(copy).
to the right honourable lord viscount ****, &c., &c., &c., whitehall.
may it please your lordship,
i humbly beg a thousand pardons and apologies for so great a liberty, and taking up time so valuable to the nation with the present application. nothing short of absolute necessity could compel to such a course; but i make bold to say, a case of greater hardship never had the honour to be laid before official eyes. my poor husband, however, is totally unaware of my writing; as he would certainly forbid any such epistolary step, whether on my part or his own; though in point of fact the shattered state of his nerves is such as to preclude putting pen to paper if ever so inclined. but as a wife and a mother, it would not become me to preserve silence, with my husband perishing by inches before my eyes; and particularly when a nobleman of your lordship’s rank would be sure to sympathise for an unfortunate gentleman, of birth and breeding, that after waiting above forty odd years for his rights, has only come at last into a public post that must, and will be his death!
“one black ball excludes.”
to favour with the particulars, my husband has the honour to
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be related very distantly to the peerage; and as your lordship knows, it is the privilege of aristocracy to provide for all their connexions by comfortable public situations, which are sometimes enjoyed very early in life. to such mr. d. had a hereditary right from his cradle, for his noble relative the duke of——, was so condescending as to stand sponsor by proxy; and instead of the usual spoons, or a silver mug, made a promise to the infant of some office suited to its tender age; for instance a superannuation, or the like, where there is nothing to do, but the salary to receive. in point of fact, the making the baby a retired king’s messenger was verbally undertaken at the font: but before the child could come into office his grace unfortunately went out of power, by dying of apoplexy, leaving nothing but a promise, which a new ministry was unjust and ungrateful
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enough not to make good. in this shocking manner, your lordship, was my husband thrown upon the world, without proper provision according to his station and prospects, and was degraded to the necessity of his own exertions for support, till his fortieth year, when the new duke thought proper to stir in his behalf. the truth is, a severe illness had left mr. d.’s mind and nerves in such a pitiful shattered state, as to make him unfit for any business whatever, except public affairs; and accordingly it became the duty of his friends to procure him some post under government. so a proper application was made to his grace, and through his influence and the fortunate circumstance of an election at the time, mr. d. was appointed to the dreadful situation he at present enjoys. of course we entirely acquit his grace, who never set eyes on my husband in his life, and therefore could not be expected to know the precise state of his constitution; but i appeal to your lordship, whether it was proper patronage for a man shattered in mind and nerves, and subject to tremors, and palpitations, and bodily shocks of all sorts, to be made a superintendent of powder-mills, with the condition of living attached to the works?
for my own part, your lordship, i looked on the duke’s letter of congratulations as neither more nor less than my poor husband’s death-warrant. indeed he was so dreadfully alarmed himself, as to be quite distressing to witness. he did nothing, the whole afternoon, but walk up and down the room, shaking his head at himself in the looking-glass, or looking up at the ceiling, and muttering, as if he was already exploding sky high along with the mills. but a refusal was out of the question, as it would have afforded his grace too good an excuse for neglecting our interests for the future. to aggravate the case, the very day after our taking possession, there was what is called a blow at the works, and though so trifling as only to carry a roof off a shed, it struck a cord on mr. d.’s nerves that has never done
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vibrating ever since. i do not exaggerate to say, that if he had been struck with the palsy and st. vitus, both at once, he could not have showed more corporeal agitation. he trembled in every limb like an aspen tree; while his eyes rolled, and his head went from side to side, like the china mandarin’s; besides scouring up and down stairs, and rushing out of doors and in again, and trying all the chairs but could not sit any where, and stamping, and muttering, and dancing about, till i really expected he would scramble up the walls of the room, and fly across the ceiling, like our tortoiseshell cat in her fits. if i lived to methusalem, your lordship, i should never forget it! unluckily, being new to his office, a mistaken notion of duty possessed him that he ought not to quit the spot; indeed he solemnly declared, that if a blow was to take place in his absence, he would rather commit his own suicide than face the report of it in the newspapers, which had already indulged in some seditious sneers at his appointment. all that could be done, therefore, was to pack off lucy, and emily and eliza, on week’s visits among friends; myself remaining behind, as a wife’s proper post, near my poor husband; but on the discomfortable condition of keeping under ground in the cellar, because gunpowder in convulsions always blasts upwards. what my feelings were, as we are troubled with rats, your lordship may suppose; particularly when mr. d. was officially called upon to inspect the damage; and never shall i forget his gashly appearance when he returned from his awful task! he was literally as white as a sheet; and totally incapable to get out a word, till he had swallowed three whole glasses of brandy! that settled his reason,—but it was only to tell me that lie had scraped and grazed the skin off every nubble of his back-bone, by a bad fall from a ladder, which he had attempted to come down in wooden safety shoes. such, your lordship, was our miserable day; and it brought as wretched a night. bed would not be heard
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of—and we set up in two easy chairs, shuddering with fright and cold, being december, and every door and window thrown wide open, to give a thorough vent through the house, in case of another shock. for mr. d. was unfortunately possessed that one blow always leads to another; and what with fancying flying sparks, for it was starlight, and sniffing fire, he had worked himself up, before morning, into a high fever and a light head. the nearest medical man was obliged to be called in—and he had to give frightful doses of laudanum before mr. d.’s nerves could be lulled into a startlish sort of doze;—and at waking, he was ordered to drink the strongest stimuluses; as indeed are in use to the present time. but this continual brandy, brandy, brandy, as your lordship knows, is a dreadful remedy; though, as my poor husband says, he cannot fill up his place without its help. at times i could almost believe, tho’ i would not breathe such a thing except to your lordship, that between the stimuluses, and the delirium, and the whole shock to the system, mr. d. is a little beside his senses. the mad doctors do say, that we are all, every one of us, crazy on a certain subject; and if such is the case, there can be no doubt that my husband’s weak point is explosions, the extravagance of his precautions making him an everlasting torment to himself as well as to all about him. of course it is to his disadvantage, and magnifies his terrors, not to have been brought regularly up to the business; not that he receives much comfort from those who have, for he says custom and habit have made them so daring and hardened, that they would not mind playing at snap-dragon in the magazine, or grinding their knives on the millstone that crushes the gunpowder into grains.
