“‘My dear Sir,—Though ’tis somewhat hopeless work writing, under the present aspect of affairs, I will send another letter, wishing that it may by some means reach you in safety. We still look out perpetually, with Constant Anxiety, for any sort of news of yourselves, which indeed but seldom arrives. These passing years are tru’ly melancholy to think upon. Molly is now fifteen, and has not seen Roy for a space of three years and more! Who could have thought——’ O I say, can’t I skip this? She does go on so. Well, I won’t, if you’d rather not; but it’s no good, you know. ‘Who could have thought it, my dear Sir, when you and your wife unhappily decided to make that doleful excursion to France, intending to stay but one fortnight, which resulted in this continued separation? Alas, how little man knows ever what lies Before him, in the Future!’ But what’s the good of her saying all that?
“‘The late tremendous storms about Lonn have caused much Alarm, but these terrors seem to be now somewhat Abating.... I have been to the Pump Room and to the Circulating Library, and find people are not much elevated at the prospect of Mr. Fox concluding a Peace in the present dolorous situation, it being confidently said he cannot live a fortnight, and that he knows his situation.
“‘Mackbeth said Lady Mackbeth
Should have died yesterday.’
“‘I presume that you with ourselves greatly lamented the death of Mr. Pitt last spring; a sad event at so critical a period.’ But I don’t see what she means about Macbeth—do you, Den? It’s so funny. O do you know, we got the Times with all about the ‘obsequies’ of Mr. Fox, and a picture of the hearse; and I kept it. I can show it to you by-and-by.
“‘A laughable jest was not long since in circulation here, that Bonaparte intended to compel the Pope to marry his Mother.... There are a society of monied people in Bath, buying all the Houses they can meet with, on Speculation, which raises them and also Lodgings, which, with the taxes, are high beyond any former period, and in the end will be a disadvantage to Bath; for the Keepers of Lodging-houses, if they can’t raise the price of rooms, oblige the strangers to take or at least pay for more than they want. The times do indeed afford a Melancholy Prospect. And still Bonaparte exists![2]
“‘If you have not, do read the Secret History of the Cabinet of St. Cloud.... I have had quite a levee this morning; two ladies quite in a pet that they cannot get genteel Lodgings for themselves and Maids under 80 or 90 pounds a year. Bath fills with Company.... It is rumoured that the Country Bankers are expected to have a run upon them for a little time; on what account I don’t clearly understand; therefore shall endeavour to get as many of their five-pound notes changed as I can at the Shops, by buying store of Candles, Sugar, etc., for they, the Bankers, will not part with any cash....’ O now we’re going to get to something more interesting.
“‘Jack is now with us for a fortnight, and he and Polly went this morning to the Public Library, and heard a Group of Gentlemen’s very serious opinions on the condition of Affairs at the present moment. What a succession of triumphs attends the Corsican, wicked Elf! Poor old England stands alone; but how long——?[2]
“‘General Moore, who as you doubtless are aware is now Sir John Moore, and has been these two years past, continues to Befriend Jack, when Opportunity offers. Jack is sorely Disappointed at not being of the number sent on this Expedition to Sicily. He hopes he may yet be ordered thither, if more troops are wanted. I don’t for my part know precisely what they may be doing there; but doubtless the Government has good Reasons for all that’s done. How much you in your long banishment may hear of Public News we have no means of guessing, my dear Sir, but most heartily do I wish it were over, and the Blessings of an assured Peace once more restored to Europe. Alas, while that persistent Disturber of Peace continues to flourish, what can be looked for but persistent War? ’Tis said that Mr. William Wilberforce declares that Austerlitz was the death-blow to Mr. Pitt.
“‘Polly desires me to send her due Remembrances to Captain Ivor, and her hopes that he continues well in health. She writ him but lately a long letter, tho’ ’tis disheartening work, none knowing if ever the letters sent do arrive. Polly is extremely well, and has her Roses in full Bloom, and is in vastly Good Spirits, albeit she was greatly Disappointed at the failure of the Peace negotiations, on which Mr. Fox built much, but without cause. ’Tis said that she grows a more elegant young woman each year; and for my part I know not if this be not the truth. Molly also is becoming fast a grown-up young woman; and there is in her face—altho’ she is not Handsome—an expression of such fine Moral Sensibility as cannot but gratify the Beholder.’”