Augst. 2. my wife uses me most unmercifully—every Soul advises me to fly from her—but where can I fly If I fly not to thee? The Bishop of Cork & Ross[[35]] has made me great offers in Ireland—but I will take no step without thee—& till heaven opens us some track—He is the best of feeling tender hearted men—knows our Story—sends You his Blessing—and says if the Ship you return in touches at Cork (wch. many India men do)—he will take you to his palace, till he can send for me to join You—he only hopes, he says, to join us together for ever—but more of this good man, and his attachment to me—hereafter and of and [sic] couple of Ladies in the family &c.—&c.
Augt. 3. I have had an offer of exchanging two pieces of preferment I hold here (but sweet Cordelia’s Parish is not one of ’em) for a living of 350 pds. a year in Surry[[36]] abt. 30 miles from London—& retaining Coxwould & my Prebendaryship—wch. are half as much more—the Country also is sweet—but I will not—I cannot take any step unless I had thee my Eliza for whose sake I live, to consult with—& till the road is open for me as my heart wishes to advance—with thy sweet light Burden in my Arms, I could get up fast the hill of preferment, if I chose it—but without thee I feel Lifeless—and if a Mitre was offer’d me, I would not have it, till I could have thee too, to make it sit easy upon my brow—I want kindly to smooth thine, & not only wipe away thy tears but dry up the Source of them for ever—
Augst. 4. Hurried backwards & forwards abt. the arrival of Madame, this whole week—& then farewel I fear to this journal—till I get up to London—& can pursue it as I wish—at present all I can write would be but the History of my miserable feelings—She will be ever present—& if I take up my pen for thee—something will jarr within me as I do it—that I must lay it down again—I will give you one genl. Acct. of all my sufferings together—but not in Journals—I shall set my wounds a-bleeding every day afresh by it—& the Story cannot be too short—so worthiest best, kindest & affecte. of Souls farewell—every Moment will I have thee present—& sooth my sufferings with the looks my fancy shall cloath thee in—Thou shalt lye down & rise up with me—abt. my bed & abt. my paths, & shalt see out all my Ways.—adieu—adieu—& remember one eternal truth, My dear Bramine, wch. is not the worse, because I have told it thee a thousand times before—That I am thine—& thine only, & for ever.
L. Sterne.
[Postscript.]
Nov: 1st. All my dearest Eliza has turned out more favourable than my hopes—Mrs. S.—& my dear Girl have been 2 Months with me and they have this day left me to go to spend the Winter at York, after having settled every thing to their hearts content—Mrs. Sterne retires into france, whence she purposes not to stir, till her death.—& never, has she vow’d, will give me another sorrowful or discontented hour—I have conquerd her, as I wd. every one else, by humanity & Generosity—& she leaves me, more than half in Love wth. me—She goes into the South of france, her health being insupportable in England—& her age, as she now confesses ten Years more, than I thought being on the edge of sixty—so God bless—& make the remainder of her Life happy—in order to wch. I am to remit her three hundred guineas a year—& give my dear Girl two thousand pds.—wth. wch. all Joy, I agree to,—but ’tis to be sunk into an annuity in the french Loans—
—And now Eliza! Let me talk to thee—But What can I say, What can I write—But the Yearnings of heart wasted with looking & wishing for thy Return—Return—Return! my dear Eliza! May heaven smooth the Way for thee to send thee safely to us, & joy for Ever.