of England, I think, are less oppressed than here.  But it needs but half an eye to see, when among them, that the foundation is laid in their dispositions for the establishment of a despotism.  Nobility, wealth, and pomp are the objects of their admiration.  They are by no means the free-minded people, we suppose them in America.  Their learned men, too, are few in number, and are less learned, and infinitely less emancipated from prejudice, than those of this country.  An event, too, seems to be preparing, in the order of things, which will probably decide the fate of that country.  It is no longer doubtful, that the harbor of Cherbourg will be complete, that it will be a most excellent one, and capacious enough to hold the whole navy of France.  Nothing has ever been wanting to enable this country to invade that, but a naval force conveniently stationed to protect the transports.  This change of situation must oblige the English to keep up a great standing army, and there is no King, who, with sufficient force, is not always ready to make himself absolute.  My paper warns me, it is time to recommend myself to the friendly recollection of Mrs. Wythe, of Colonel Taliaferro and his family, and particularly of Mr. R. T. and to assure you of the affectionate esteem, with which I am,

Dear Sir, your friend and servant,

Th:  Jefferson.

LETTER XXVIII.—­TO MRS. COSWAY, October 12, 1786

TO MRS. COSWAY.

Paris, October 12, 1786.

My Dear Madam,

Having performed the last sad office of handing you into your carriage, at the pavillion de St. Denis, and seen the wheels get actually into motion, I turned on my heel and walked, more dead than alive, to the opposite door, where my own was awaiting me.  Mr. Danquerville was missing.  He was sought for, found, and dragged down stairs.  We were crammed into the carriage, like recruits for the Bastille, and not having soul enough to give orders to the coachman, he presumed Paris our destination, and drove off.  After a considerable interval, silence was broke, with a ’Je suis vraiment afflige du depart de ces bons gens.’ This was a signal for mutual confession of distress.  We began immediately to talk of Mr. and Mrs. Cosway, of their goodness, their talents, their amiability; and though we spoke of nothing else, we seemed hardly to have entered into the matter, when the coachman announced the rue St. Denis, and that we were opposite Mr. Danquerville’s.  He insisted on descending there, and traversing a short passage to his lodgings.  I was carried home.  Seated by my fire-side, solitary and sad, the following dialogue took place between my Head and my Heart.

Head.  Well, friend, you seem to be in a pretty trim.

Heart.  I am indeed the most wretched of all earthly beings.  Overwhelmed with grief, every fibre of my frame distended beyond its natural powers to bear, I would willingly meet whatever catastrophe should leave me no more to feel, or to fear.