June 12th, 1773.
Dear H.,
A BUYER FOR LENBOROUGH.
*Lenborough is no more.—Lrd. Temple acted like a Jew, and I dare say now repents of it. In his room Way found me a better man, a rich brutish honest horse Dealer, who has got a great fortune by serving the cavalry. On Thursday he saw Lenborough, on Friday came to town with R. W., and this morning at nine o'clock we struck at £20,000, after a very hard battle, in which he squeezed from me a promise of throwing him back a hundred for trouble, &c. As times go I am not dissatisfied; the worst of it is the time of payment, which I could not prevail on him to fix sooner than November, though he gave me hopes of getting it somewhat earlier. Gosling must wait till then. R[ichard] W[ay] and the new Lord of Lenborough (by name Lovegrove) dined with me; and though we did not speak the same language, yet by the help of signs, such as that of putting about the bottle, the natives seemed well satisfied.
The whole world is going down to Portsmouth,[187] where they will enjoy the pleasure of smoke, noise, heat, bad lodgings, and expensive reckonings. For my own part, I have firmly resisted importunity, declined parties, and mean to pass the busy week in the soft retirement of my bocage de Bentinck Street.
Yesterday the East India Company positively refused the Loan,—a noble resolution, could they get money anywhere else.[188]
They are violent, and it was moved, and the motion heard with some degree of approbation, that they should instantly abandon India to Lord North, Sujah Dowlah, or the Devil, if he chose to take it.*
My respectfull salutations wait on Madame. If with the handkerchiefs she was to bring me over some Irish linnen for shirts, it would be an action worthy of her humanity. Adieu.
E. G.