the post, unfortunately, goes from hence but twice a week. What a consoling reflection must it be to you to think how much your tenderness alleviated the misfortunes of our dear friend! without you, how unhappy must have been the last years of his life! It is a comfort even to me to reflect that if he had never known me, he would have been less happy than he was. Though his friendship has been to me a source of infinite uneasiness and affliction, I thank God that I was blessed with it; his life was happier, and mine, I am sure, will be better for it. I do not seek to divert my attention from the cause of my sorrows. I know that to be a resource as vain and ineffectual as it is unworthy. I rather consider what is the amount of my loss, and examine what is real and what imaginary in the terrors of death. I know that my dear brother's virtues had made him invulnerable to its sting. I know that he is immortal, I know that he still lives; and I carry the idea so far as to read over all his former letters. I think with myself he is still only in a foreign country,—we shall soon meet again; not so soon, indeed, as we intended; but what can be late that is circumscribed by the limits of life, and what can be distant that lies no farther than the grave? I reflect that my dear brother is now more present with me than ever, that he looks down upon me from Heaven, is the witness of all my actions, knows all that passes in my mind, and sees the sincerity of my affection for him; that he will still be the guardian and director of my conduct; and that, whenever I am doubtful how to act, I will consider how he would have acted in such a situation, and I shall then be certain always to determine for what is just and virtuous. It is a pleasure to me to reflect that by this means his will be the merit of the laudable actions which I may perform; and that perhaps it will be part of those joys which are to reward his good works to contemplate their extensive effects, and to see the good fruits of the virtues which his friendship has inspired me with, and to behold his own virtues reviving again in his children, by the happy effects of that wise and judicious education which he had begun, and which he has taught you how to perfect. I

do not exhort you, my dear sister, to dismiss all sad reflections, but rather to turn them to another object-to think of your friends in this country, to think how your return among them will revive and cheer them. Think of our dear parents, and comfort them in their old age. Think of your sweet children, and bring them amongst protectors who are anxious to devote themselves to their care and service. When, my dear Kitty, will you set out upon your journey hither? To perform it alone must be painful; I will come to bear you company. I will be with you by the end of July, or sooner if you desire it, though it would be inconvenient to me. All the months of August, September, and October shall be devoted wholly to your service. If you choose, we will return to London immediately; or, if you prefer it, I will stay with you for some time at Lausanne, or any other place, till the hottest weather has passed over. Above all things, let me entreat you to be careful of your health, think of your children, and remember that at their age the loss of a mother is much greater than of a father; think what endearing duties you have to discharge. We shall certainly join our dear friend again soon, (for what are a few years, what is a whole life, compared to that eternity which we shall pass with him ?) but let us endeavour, first, to have done all that we know will afford him pleasure, and not to leave unperformed those offices for which he would chiefly have desired to live. In the midst of our affliction, and under the hard lot which has befallen us, we will find out serious, nay melancholy pleasures, which might be envied by those who seem more the favourites of fortune. Once more let me entreat you to be careful of your health, and not to cause another affliction to your dearest friends, greater than they will be able to bear,—at least, if I may judge of their hearts by that of your most affectionate brother,

SAML. ROMILLY.

Since you left me, I have not known what in the world to do with myself. The first morning I verily believe I should have been tempted to throw myself into the Seine, had I not, luckily, met with an acquaintance,

The following account of Mr. Baynes is extracted from a letter of Dr. Parr, dated March 2, 1820. See antè, p. 48.

"John Baynes was born at Skipton, in Yorkshire, where his father was a prosperous attorney. He was a member of Trinity College; and, at a time of life unusually early, he gained the highest, or nearly the highest, honours, mathematical and classical. He had great ardour of mind, great singleness of heart, great variety of research. He was an antiquary as well as a scholar. He was for a time suspected of having written the celebrated Epistle to Sir William Chambers: he disclaimed the authorship, but confessed that he superintended the press. He had a very fine, commanding person, the tones of his voice were impressive, his dress was at all times becoming, his manners were unaffected, and yet dignified. He was now and then fond of paradoxes, and would defend them resolutely, when they had all the properties of improbability and even absurdity. He was a steady advocate for civil and religious liberty.

"John Baynes was perhaps the most intimate friend Sir S. Romilly had in early life; and in consequence of their connexion, my own acquaintance at Warwick with Sir Samuel began at some assizes or sessions. Sir Samuel spoke of him with affection and admiration; and doubtless, if he had lived, he would have been a bright luminary in the literature and politics of England. He had not yet been called to the bar, but practised at Gray's Inn, I believe as a conveyancer. He died, to my sorrow, of a fever; and his resignation at the approach of death was worthy of his intellectual, moral, and religious excellences. I wrote his epitaph in Latin."

Sept. 1783.

LETTERS FROM MIRABEAU, ETC.

219

who was at the Hôtel d'Espagne in the next street, at the Café Conti. I called on M. Romilly,' and was very sorry to find Madame Romilly was very ill; so I did not stay, but promised to call the next day, which I did, and saw her much better, but he was not at home. The next morning I called at Passy, but Dr. Franklin was gone to Paris. I set off for Pontoise, and arrived there on Wednesday. I was much taken with the look of the place; the bridge, the river Oise, the rising ground on which it stands, made me very much in love with it;-began a copy of verses on the place. The next day I went to see the convents, and to make inquiries about a preceptor, but the devil a preceptor could I find; did not like Pontoise quite so well. The third day, not meeting with any better success, I thought Pontoise a most horrible place indeed;-burnt my verses, and set. off for Paris again, where I now am chez M. Villars.

I went this morning to the Chambre du Parlement, where I understood rather more than I had done before. The subject of the cause was a suit between the sheriffs of a neighbouring town and the bakers, for enhancing the price of bread. But (would you believe it?) the "avocats du Parlement de Paris" are as arrant squabblers as any of our King's Bench practitioners. I was not a little diverted with the dispute between a little dapper avocat with his own hair, and a great tall man in an enormous wig, both concerned in this cause: the tall man seemed to rely much on the prosecution being at the suit de la ville; "Ah," said the other, on sait fort bien ce que c'est que la ville; ce n'est que deux ou trois officiers de la ville."

66

I have half read through M. Henault. It is certainly a very useful book, and by a learned man; but he has two faults: 1. His principles of toleration in religion, and his ideas of government, are both very bad. 2. He is perpetually making very foolish and childish observations, qui ne prouvent rien, as he says himself. Pray tell me if you are not of the same opinion. His observations 1 See antè, p. 47.

2 Probably Abrégé Chronologique de l'Histoire de France.

on the progress of customs, laws, manners, &c., are excellent, and show him to have been a great antiquarian in that particular line.

I saw St. Denis's church, a fine light building (I speak of the inside), the roof unornamented, the windows wonderfully rich and (ut ita dicam) frequent, the church being surrounded with windows which have hardly any space between them. The ornaments on the gate are very curious, being as old as Charlemagne. The lightness of the columns and windows pleased me much. This morning I went to see the Duchess of La Vallière at the Carmelites. Oh! I had almost forgot to tell you that, on Tuesday, I went to see the Duc de la Vallière's library, which, for the number of rare and fine books, is well worth the trouble. I never saw such a magnificent collection for an individual; there are some volumes of drawings and paintings which I should think invaluable, immense numbers of ancient romances, printed and manuscript, and a fine collection of the first printed books, all in excellent condition.

Pray tell me if you have already written to Pontoise. Write immediately; be full, explicit, nay, even be tedious; have no mercy on me.

Je ne voulais plus vous écrire que je n'eusse une réponse de vous qui me dît que ce n'est pas par simple

LETTER XXXIV.

London, Thursday, 1785. I had resolved, my dear friend, not to write to you again until I had had an answer from you, telling me that you did something

Mr. Romilly became acquainted with Mirabeau in 1784. See antè, p. 57. This letter refers to the work on The Order of Cincinnatus, by Mirabeau, which Mr. Romilly was translating. The translation was published by J. Johnson,

St. Paul's Churchyard, in 1785.