“The causes of complaint given by the court of London not having ceased, and that court shewing no disposition to give reparation for them, the King has resolved, and orders his ambassador to declare, that the honour of his crown, the protection which he owes to his subjects, and his own personal dignity, do not permit him to suffer their insults to continue, and to neglect any longer the reparation of those already received; and that in this view, notwithstanding the pacific disposition of his Majesty, and even the particular inclination he has always had and expressed for cultivating the friendship of his Britannick Majesty, he finds himself under the disagreeable necessity of making use of all the means which the Almighty has intrusted him with to obtain that justice which he has solicited by so many ways without being able to acquire: in confiding on the justice of his cause, his Majesty hopes that the consequences of this resolution will not be imputed to him before God or man; and that other nations will form a suitable idea of this resolution, by comparing it to the conduct which they themselves have experienced on the part of the British ministry.
“Signed Le Marquis d’Almodovar.
“London, 16 June, 1779.”
These important papers being read, Lord Weymouth moved, That an humble address be presented to his Majesty (and Lord North moved the same in the House of Commons), to assure his Majesty of support, &c. This event, though not unexpected, occasioned warm debates in both houses. All were for agreeing to the address; but the Lords and gentlemen in opposition were for adding a condition, “provided his Majesty would discard from his councils the present ministry.” After much altercation, and many severe charges of maladministration, the condition was rejected, and the addresses, as originally moved, passed by a great majority in both houses.
SOCIETY AT BRIGHTHELMSTON (BRIGHTON) IN 1779.
Source.—Diarists quoted in History of Brighthelmston. John Ackerson Erredge. Brighton, 1862.
(A.) The Libraries.
There is a sort of rivalry between the two Librarians on the Steyne, as to their subscription books; which shall most justly deserve the title of the book of Numbers.—There is a constant struggle between them, which shall be most courteous; and the effects are those usually consequent upon an opposition. Sir Christopher Caustic, this morning was turning over the leaves, at Bowen’s, which contain the names of the subscribers. Mr. Bowen bowed a la Novarre or Gallini, and with offered pen and ink, craved the honour of—an additional name: this being his first season, and having been purposely misinformed by some would-be-witty wag; “Sir,” said Mr. Bowen, displaying, all the time, two irregular rows of remarkably white teeth, “yours will stand immediately after that of the Honourable Charles James Fox, Esq., and before that of Mrs. Franco, the rich Jew’s lady. Esquire W——d’s was to have been on the medium line, but, poor gentleman, he is unfortunately detained near London, on emergent business.” To what a degree was the dealer in stationery let down, when he was afterwards regularly rectified; when by explanatory notes, and critical commentations, he came to be fully informed that the individual Mr. Fox in question was not the celebrated senator of that name, but an Irish Jontleman, who condescends in winter to keep a chop house at the corner of the play-house passage, in Bow Street, Covent Garden; and every autumnal season, has frequent opportunities of storming and swearing at the ladies who may have the good fortune to belong to the Brighthelmstone company of Comedians, he being sole manager thereof. And such management!—Scarrons Rancour, who filled all the characters in a play by himself, was a fool to him....
Mr. Thomas, the other librarian, must be noticed in turn. He hath been years enough practising small talk with the ladies and gentlemen upon the Steyne, and hath arrived at a surprising degree of precision in pronouncing French-English. He is now reading the newspaper to some of his subscribers, with an audible voice, and repeatedly calls a detached body of troops a corpse; a tour he improves into a tower; and delivers his words in a promiscas manner. It is near seven in the evening, and the widow Fussic has just waddled into his shop, with a parasol in her right, and a spying-glass in her left hand. Thomas offers her a General Advertiser. “Lord bless me!” says she, “Mr. Thomas, how damp this paper is, tho’ it has come so far, and must have been printed so long since! What reason can you give for it?”—Mr. Thomas observes, considers and explains, in a most explicit manner, the cause and the effect, to the inquisitive lady, naturally speaking, as a body may say; proving to a demonstration, according to Candide, that there can be no effect without a cause; and that of course, damp papers, closely compressed, will continue damp a considerable time. In the interim, Miss Fanny Fussic stares and whispers to her brother Bobby, while he is subscribing to a raffle, that Mr. Thomas must be a most prodigious man monstrously intelligent, and withal, that he is amazingly communicative: “He knows but every-thing,” says she, “and tells but every-thing he knows.”
(B.) The Raffles.
Every article of convenience, every trinket of luxury, is transferred by this uncertain, quick mode of conveyance. Not a shop without its rattle-trap,—rattle, rattle, rattle, morning and evening. Here may be seen,—walk in and see,—an abridgement of the wisdom of this world;—the pomps and vanities are at large, varying like yonder evanescent clouds. Observe the fond parent initiating her forward offspring in the use of the dice-box, and herself setting the example; yet may she wonder, at some future day, and think her throw in life’s raffle extremely severe, that a propensity to that and similar habits should continue and increase.