^ 821 .] Unpublished Letter of Thomson . 233 
As to more important business, I 
have nothing to write you, you know 
best the course of it. Be (as you al¬ 
ways must be) just and honest; but if 
you are unhappily romantic, you shall 
come home without money, and write 
a tragedy on yourself. Mr. L. told me 
that the Gfeevillesandhe had strongly 
recommended the person the governor 
and you proposed for that considerable 
office, lately fallen vacant in your de¬ 
partment, and that there were good 
hopes of succeeding. He told me also 
that Mr. P. had said, it was not to be 
expected that offices such as that is, 
for which the greatest interest is made 
here at home, could be accorded to 
your recommendation; but that as to 
the middling or inferior offices, if there 
was not some particular reason to the 
contrary, regard would be had thereto. 
This is all that can be reasonably de¬ 
sired. And if you are not infected 
with a certain Creolian distemper, 
’(whereof I am persuaded your soul 
will utterly resist the contagion, as I 
hope your body will that of their na¬ 
tural ones) there are few men so capable 
of that imperishable happiness, that 
peace and satisfactionof mind, at least, 
that proceed from being reasonable and 
moderate in our desires, as you are. 
These are the treasures, dug from an 
inexhaustible mine in our own breasts, 
which, like those in the kingdom of 
heaven, the rust of time cannot corrupt, 
nor thieves break through and steal, 
i must learn to work at this mine a 
little more, being struck off from a 
certain hundred pounds a year, which 
you know I had. West, Mallet and I, 
were all routed in one day. If you 
would know why—out of resentment 
to our friend in Argyle-street. Yet I 
have hopes given me of having it re¬ 
stored with interest, some time or other 
■ • that some time or other is a 
great deceiver. Coriolanus has not yet 
appeared upon the stage, from the little 
dirty jealousy of Tullus, I mean of him 
who was desired to act Tullus, towards 
him who alone can act Coriolanus. 
Indeed the first has entirely jockeyed 
the last ofi the stage for this season ; 
but I believe lie will return on him 
next season, like a giant in his wrath. 
Let us have a little more patience, 
Paterson; nay, let us be cheerful. 
At last all will be well; at least all 
will be over—here I mean : God forbid 
it should be hereafter. But as sure as 
there is a God, that will not be so. 
Now that I am prating of myself, know 
Monthly Mag, No. 359. 
that after fourteen or fifteen years, the 
Castle of Indolence comes abroad in a 
fortnight. It will certainly travel as 
far as Barbadoes : you have an apart¬ 
ment in it as a night pensioner, which 
you may remember I fitted up for you 
during our delightful party at North 
Ha. Will ever those days return again ? 
Don’t you remember our eating the raw 
fish that were never catched ? All our 
friends are pretty much in statu quo , 
except it be poor Mr. Lyttleton. He 
has had the severest trial a human 
tender heart can have; but the old 
physician, Time, will at last close up his 
wounds, though there must always re¬ 
main an inward smarting. Mitchell is 
in the house for Aberdeenshire, and has 
spoken modestly well. I hope he will 
be in something else soon, none deserves 
better; true friendship and humanity 
dwell in his heart. Gray is working 
hard at passing his account; I spoke to 
him about that affair. If he gives yon 
any trouble about it, even that of dun¬ 
ning, I shall think strangely, but I 
dare say he is too friendly ito do it; he 
values himself justly on being friendly 
to his old friends, and you are among 
the oldest. Symmer is at last tired of 
quality, and is going to take a semi- 
country house at Hammersmith. I am 
sorry that honest, sensible Warrender, 
(who is in town) seems to be stunted 
in church preferment. He ought to be 
a tall cedar in the house of the Lord ; 
if he is not so at last it will add more 
fuel to my indignation, that burns al¬ 
ready too intensely, and throbs towards 
an eruption. Peter Murdoch is in 
town, tutor to Admiral Vernon’s son. 
and is in good hopes of another living 
in Suffolk, that country of tranquillity 
where he will then burrow himself in 
a wife, and be happy. Good-natured, 
obliging Millar is as usual. Though 
the Doctor increases in his business, he 
does not decrease in spleen : but there 
is a certain kind of spleen that is both 
humane and agreeable; like Jaques in 
the play, I sometimes have a touch of 
it. But I must break off this chat 
with you about our friends, which, 
were I to indulge in, would be endless. 
As for politics, we are, I believe, upon 
the brink of a peace. The French are 
vapouring at present in the siege of 
Maestrielit, at the same time they are 
mortally sick in their marine, and 
through all the vitals of France. It is 
a pity we cannot continue the war a 
little longer, and put their agonising 
trade quite to death. This siege, i 
2 G take 
