In spite of so many reasons for melancholy, one thing that struck the English people was the extraordinary gaiety of nature displayed by most of the _émigrés_ so soon as they found themselves in security. These good folk, many of whom landed half-starved, exhausted and ragged, were somehow not entirely disheartened, and, indeed, on commencing life afresh, displayed an extraordinary spirit and cheerfulness. Very quickly, even in the alien country, they formed into circles of friends who saw each other every day,[32] eager to exchange impressions, reminiscences, and hopes, to get news from the Homeland and from those members of their families who had not been able to leave it; they felt keenly the need of a common existence, in which they could cheer and encourage one another. And what a kindly grace they showed, what a brave spirit, amid all the little disagreeables of a way of life so different from that of the good old days! At the dinners which they gave one another, each would bring his own dish. “’Twas made,” says the Count d’Haussonville, “into a little attention to the visitors of the house for a man to take a taper from his pocket, and put it, lighted, on the chimney-piece!” In the daytime the men-folk gave lessons or worked as secretaries (or bookbinders, like the Count de Caumont, for instance). The women did needlework, which the English ladies, their patronesses, busied themselves in selling at bazaars.[33] But side by side with the gentlemen who took their exile so patiently and philosophically, there was a whole group of _émigrés_ who longed to play a less passive part. These were the men and women who had fled from France and brought their illusions with them--those inconceivable illusions which mistook so entirely the true character, importance, and extent of the Revolution, and could still, therefore, cherish the hope of some kind of revenge. Totally misunderstanding the feelings of the English Government, unable to comprehend the line taken by Pitt and his Cabinet, and blinded by their stubborn hatred, these men and women actually imagined that, to their importunate appeals, Great Britain could respond by furnishing them with arms, soldiers, and money to equip a fleet, form an army, and go back to France as the avengers of the “hideous Revolution.” They assailed the Minister with offers, counsels, and schemes--for the most part quite impracticable; were refused, but still cherished their delusion. Some of them were honest, but many were of that class of adventurer with which the Emigration was swarming, and which was the thorn in the side of all the anti-revolutionary agencies. The well-warned Government could give them but one reception. Pitt had not the least idea of listening to the proposals of these gentry and personally intervening in favour of the Royalists of France.[34]