conter ses malheurs. Il est, d'ailleurs, dans la nature humaine de trouver je ne sais quelle consolation, je ne sais quel soulagement, à faire des aveux, dont on n'a rien à craindre. Il semble que l'âme oppressée du poids de ses remords le rejette, et s'en délivre, en faisant l'aveu de ses fautes; et c'est ainsi que la confession m'a toujours paru d'institution de nature, quoique bien dangereuse comme institution divine ou politique.

Mais, mon ami, voici le troisième bavardage volumineux que vous recevez de moi; il est temps avant de continuer de savoir si cela vous déplait ou vous dérange. A votre réponse donc.

M. Hardy' laisse a toutes les portes un libelle Anglais contre moi.

L'histoire de Genève m'est irrévocablement et exclusivement abandonnée, mais Dyer n'a pas remis une ligne.

Dimanche, 5.

all men in relating their misfortunes. It is, moreover, a part of human nature to find I know not what of consolation and relief in making confessions from which there is nothing to be feared. It would seem that the mind, oppressed by the load of remorse, shrinks from it, and throws it off by confessing its faults; and thus it is that the practice of confession has always appeared to me to have had its origin in nature, however dangerous as a religious or political institution.

But this is the third long rhapsody which you will have received from me, my friend; it is high time, before I go on, to know if this annoys or disturbs you. I await your answer.

Mr. Hardy is leaving at every door an English libel against me. The History of Geneva is finally and exclusively given up to me; but Dyer has not sent me one line.

1 See antè, p. 81.

LETTER XXXVIII.

Dear Romilly,

FROM MR. BAYNES.

London, March 7. 1785.

I dined yesterday with your brother; we had, as usual, a very agreeable afternoon; he is to go in your stead with Mr. M. into the House of Commons, in case of your absence. It was your mother's birthday; they did not intend to tell me; but I happened to have found it out by accident previously, and, all on a sudden, I drank your mother's health, congratulating her on the occasion. They were all surprised, and we laughed most heartily, an art in which, if loudness and frequency are any merit, I surely excel. However, they soon guessed that I had got my information at Kensington, whither I had been on a walk with the Count.1

I dare say you are no more sorry than myself that the scrutiny is ended. Mr. Fox's party keep within no bounds of joy; they have illuminated two or three nights, and yesterday, the rabble drew Mr. Fox to the House of Commons.

The Count called upon me to-day, to desire me to write to Johnson to insist on his finishing the translation, and publishing it immediately.2 Hardy has printed an English libel against him, apparently translated from the French of Linguet : -this, I trust, will be of no great service to H. if he should bring his cause to a trial. The Count 2 See antè, p. 79.

1 Mirabeau.

complains bitterly of his hard fate, in losing Madame de * * * and you at once. By his letter to you, he seems to think my heart harder than adamant or Marpesian rocks, in being so insensible to his distress. For my part, as I well know that there are many persons who possess much finer feelings than myself, so, I trust, I am far from being that unfeeling philosophizing mass of clay which the Count seems to imagine me; and though I doubt not in the least the sincerity of his sorrow, yet I own I am, on this occasion, much more disposed to wish he had no greater cause of uneasiness. One reason why he seems to think thus of me is probably a certain reserve or backwardness (which, in other respects, I do not possess,) in expressing my affections either of pity or regard to any other person. This is perhaps a weakness, perhaps a fault, which I feel I possess, and which I cannot help attributing to the circumstance of my not meeting with a friend whose disposition exactly suited me, till very late in life. This, however, if a fault, will I trust be readily excused by you; particularly as, on many occasions, I cannot help fancying that I have seen you feel much more than you have ventured, or had the courage, to express. I do not know whether I am not much bolder on paper than in conversation, in expressing as well my own uneasinesses as my regards. I think I have observed the same in However this may be, I hope you you. will not think me the more insensible because I do not always express my sensations; nor insincere, when I assure you that I do really feel a great want of your company. I have even the

pleasure to hope you will believe me, when I assure you that your friendship is the principal source of my present happiness; and that it is my greatest consolation to reflect that we shall never probably be far or long separated during our lives.

"Equidem ex omnibus rebus, quas mihi aut fortuna aut natura tribuit, nihil habeo, quod cum amicitiâ Scipionis possum comparare. In hâc mihi de republicâ consensus, in hâc rerum privatarum consilium; in eâdem requies plena oblectationis fuit" (I wish I might add, " nunquam illum ne minimâ quidem re offendi, quod quidem senserim"); "nihil audivi ex eo ipse, quod nollem. Una domus erat, idem victus, isque communis: neque solum militia, sed etiam peregrinationes rusticationesque communes."1

Yours, dear Romilly, ever sincerely,

Tuesday, 8th.

LETTER XXXIX.

J. B.

Dear Romilly,

FROM MR. BAYNES.

Gray's Inn, March 16. 1785.

The Count is delighted with your letter; he is determined you shall be a great man; and, from the conversation I had with him this morning in confidence, I have great reason to think that he has spoken of you in such terms to Lord Shelburne, as to induce Lord S. to offer you a seat in Parliament. I doubt not but that you will be astonished at this information; it is, however, my 2 See antè, p. 87.

2

Cic. de Amicit.

firm opinion that some such plan is in agitation. I collect it only from what passed between the Count and me this morning. The terms offered will, I doubt not, be very liberal. Though my information is founded only on the Count's ideas, which are in general very sanguine, yet I see no reason to doubt his accuracy in this account. At all events, I thought it would be the best to tell you my suspicions; as it would be very unpleasant for you to be attacked unprepared upon so important a subject. I wish you would give me a line, immediately or as soon as possible, with the rough sketch of your ideas of this proposal. Pray consider it well. I will then tell you mine very freely. Yours sincerely,

J. B.

LETTER XL.

FROM THE COUNT DE MIRABEAU.'

Mon Ami,

[Londres,] 18 Mars, 1785.

Je ne vous répondrai pas, parceque je suis écrasé d'ouvrage inattendu; mais je vous dirai du moins combien votre lettre m'a touché, combien elle porte l'empreinte d'un cœur tendre et d'une

LETTER XL.

My dear Friend,

London, March 18. 1785.

I will not reply to you, because I am overwhelmed with unexpected business; but I will at least tell you how much your letter has touched me, how deeply it bears the stamp of a tender heart and an