519.
To Lord Sheffield.
Saturday, 8th December.
DISARRANGEMENT OF HIS PLANS.
I thought we might have safely depended on Caplin's daily diligence, but you could fairly conclude from his silence that we advance with a fair wind. The venom of the Gouty humour is almost dispelled, and I am going on to reduce the size and recover the strength of my feet. Mama cannot be more impatient than myself for the signal of weighing anchor: this unlucky check has disarranged all my social and litterary projects: in a lodging I am destitute of a thousand comforts: my books are few, my society precarious, my days long and often tedious, nor is any thing less pleasant than to be left solitary and motionless while the world is flying round and round me. In point of kind, civil, assiduous attendance of male and female friends Lausanne had quite spoilt me.
In the course or chain of my winter designs, I most ardently wish to hasten the Bath journey, that I may urge our family settlement in Downing street, for I have felt by experience the difference between town and country with regard to the press. But wishes are not hopes, nor are hopes equivalent to assurances. Yet I think (should no reverse of fortune take place) that I can promise to ascend my post-chaise painfully enough either Friday or Saturday next, the 14th or 15th instant, and therefore, if you hear nothing to the contrary, your Lordship cum mamma amabili may find yourself in town the Wednesday or Thursday, and we will contrive, if I am strong enough, some dinner with Lord L., Batt, or elsewhere. I am much obliged to Severy for his letter and Lausanne news. I hope he is somewhat less miserable. Adieu, I am tired. Salutations to My lady, &c. Do you know anything more of the house?