167.
To his Stepmother.
Bentinck Street, May the 5th, 1773.
Dear Madam,
Your kind letter and just reproaches, instead of making me do immediately what I had resolved to do every post-night for a fortnight before, put off my letters two or three days longer. The Snail of Love-lane, I saw this morning, and he tells me that he had sent you a satisfactory explanation of his conduct; if it appears otherwise to you, and that his delays are still inconvenient to you, I beg that you would draw upon me, and hope you are persuaded that, as I have two hundred pounds in Fleet Street, you are welcome to one of them.
With Holroyd's assistance, who is determined to extricate me out of all my troubles, the sale of Lenborough by auction at Buckingham is fixed for the 24th of this month. He goes down with me, and the Estate has been carefully divided into four lots, rising successively in value above each other, so that, if any parts should remain upon my hands a while longer, they will be the best. These precautions are requisite in the present scarcity of money, which gives me little hopes of selling the whole together, and even the sanguine Holroyd is apprehensive that I shall be obliged to buy it in again and provide for the mortgage by some other measures, at least of the procrastinating kind.
A HAPPY MAN.
Were it not for these worldly cares, I should be a very happy man. I never formed any great schemes of avarice, ambition or vanity: and all the notions I ever formed of a London life in my own house, and surrounded by my books, with a due mixture of study and society, are fully realised. I have seen the Eliotts several times, and think he and I take to one another very well this year. They both express great pleasure at the thoughts of seeing us in Cornwall. I shall be glad to know whether the time I mentioned will suit. I am obliged to you for your invitation to Bath, and am lost in admiration at the size of your house, which enables you to spare a bed-chamber and drawing-room; tho' after all, I can offer you the same apartment in my little Palace, which is absolutely the best house in London. The Waste-coats are sincerely pretty, without gratitude or compliment. The Madeira I have got from Oliver; it is incomparable, but saddled with nine or ten pounds due for cellarage ever since Mr. Scott's arrival in England. Where was the Rum, for Oliver knows nothing about it? Apropos the Beriton pictures; should you think it worth while to frame and put them up at Bath? They will not suit my rooms and will be soon spoilt in a Lumber-room. If you do not chuse them, I believe I shall let them take their choice at Christie's, though I find by a very good painter's opinion that we much over-rated their value. My compliments to the Goulds, &c. Poor Mrs. Porten has long and frequent attacks, but her spirits are still good.
I am, Dear Madam,
Ever yours,
E. G.