ID: | 1159 [see the .xml file] |
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Identifier: | NLW 2591E |
Editors: | Transcribed by Ffion Mair Jones; edited by Ffion Mair Jones; encoded by Vivien Williams. (2019) |
Cite: | 'Richard Bull to Thomas Pennant 28 November 1792' transcribed by Ffion Mair Jones; edited by Ffion Mair Jones; encoded by Vivien Williams. (2019) in Curious Travellers Digital Editions [editions.curioustravellers.ac.uk/doc/1159] |
Dear Sir,
North Court, Isle of Wight
November 28. 1792
We are just going to make our Journey to London, and having a Franker at my elbow, it will cost you nothing to be told so,, which in truth, is the sole purpose of my writing now, except to thank you for your last letter, which requir'd no answer, else you should have had it before this time.
I hope your little girl is quite recover'd, and that all is well at Downing; Stet Fortuna Domus!1 -----
An Evil Spirit is gone forth throughout all the regions of Europe, and I dread its influence upon
our happy Country, which, in spite of the necessary reforms wh.. it
certainly has need of, enjoys [...] enjoys ^the wisest sistem of Government, ever contriv'd by man.
Tom Paine is the Beelzebub of the times, and it grieves me to find my worthy and agreeable friend
Erskine, lowering himself to be his prime minister.. I think the French nation
began well, and had not massacrés, and crimes one shudders to think on,, stain'd with blood, every subsequent action, we should have look'd up with
reverence, to a great nation, nobly struggling for liberty, under the most oppressive, if not the most tyrannical Government, that ever existed.
The mob at Sheffield declare openly, against Kings and Nobles, and I suppose you heard they stop'd
Lord Fitzwilliams carriage, and taking away two of his horses, made him proceed with a pair, telling him nobody should pass through their town, with more. At
Birmingham they roasted an An ass,, with a label inscrib'd George Whelp,
and some of the Savages tore out the heart, and devour'd it raw – Some of the miserable Emigrants have straggled hither. they seem a quiet well meaning set of
Priests,2
quite ignorant of any World, except what they found in their own Cloysters. A whole Convent of Nuns, landed at
Shoreham a little time since, determin^ing all to live,
or to perish together;3
the Lady Abbess was more than 90 years old, and stone blind, none of the Nuns younger than 60. A person who saw, and reliev'd them, told me it was impossible to
discrib[...]e their seeming distress, and patient suffering. – my letters from
London mention that suspicion and despondency hang upon the Countenance of every body, but I am among those, who call even Croakers,
bad subjects – nil desperandum Tucro Duce –4
in the mean time, we enjoy Peace and quietness here, with a few pleasant friends, and our daily toast is:
"Confusion to all those who wish for it.
I am Dear Sir, always sincerely yours
On top of page, in Thomas Pennant's hand:
Answd