To say the truth, I cannot resume the thread with much interest. Nothing has happened here during the seven weeks of my confinement worth repeating. The Parliament is met, but as quietly as a quarter session. The Opposition seems quelled, or to despair; nor has the town contributed more than the two Houses to the fund of news.

The great scene that Europe expected is said to be laid aside, and that France has signified to the Dutch that they must submit to the Emperor, and that they will,-happy news for one or two hundred thousand of the living! Whether the mass of murder will be diminished in future by that arrangement is another question. The revival of the kingdom of Austrian Lombardy* looks as if the Eagle's eastern wing would expand itself as well as the western; and so I recollected I hinted to you two years ago that I expected it would.

If the town does not do something odd and worth repeating within these two days, I must send away my letter, squab as it is. I cannot coin news, though so easy a practice, as our newspapers prove by the daily lies they publish-I will not say invent; for thousands, who get nothing by the manufacture, help the printers to numberless falsehoods. Our newspapers are deservedly forbidden in France for impudent scandal on the French Queen. I am always ashamed that such cargoes of abuse should be dispersed all over Europe; and frequently our handsomest women are the themes. What Iroquois must we seem to the rest of the world!

Jan. 4th.

London is very perverse, and will not furnish me with another paragraph; one would think it had taken spite to our immortal correspondence. Formerly, after a long vacation, people used to be impatient to signalize themselves by some extravagance or absurdity. They are as tame now as if the Millennium was commenced.†

*Which is what the Emperor meditated.

Mrs. Hannah More writing to her sister about this time tells her, "I believe I mentioned that a foreign ambassador, Count Adhemar, had a stroke of palsy, and that he was to have had a great assembly on the night of the day on which it happened; it is shocking to relate the sequel. It was on Sunday. The company went-some hundreds. The man lay deprived of sense and motion; his bed-chamber joins the great drawing-room, where was a faro bank held close to his bed's head. Somebody said they thought they made too much noise. 'Oh no,' another answered, ‘it will do him good; the worst thing he can do is to sleep.' A third said, I did not think Adhemar had been a fellow of such rare spirit; palsy and faro together is spirited indeed, this is keeping it up!' I was telling this to Mr. Walpole the other day, and lamenting it as a national stigma, and one of the usual signs of the times I had met with. In return, he told me of a French gentleman at Paris, who, being in the article of death, had just signed his will, when the lawyer who drew it up was invited by his wife to stay supper. The table was laid in the dying man's apartment; the lawyer took a glass of wine, and, addressing himself to the lady, drank à la santé de notre aimable agonisant! I told Mr. Walpole he invented the story to out-do me, but he protested it was literally true."-Memoirs of Hannah More, vol. i. p. 396. Perhaps the lady was right.-Ed.

Last

I went out yesterday to take the air, but it fatigued me. night it snowed again, and I have staid at home: but I shall recover; my appetite is perfect, and my sleep is marvellous. I don't know why I am not as sleek as a dormouse. Pray give me as good an account of yourself. Have you driven yet in your coach to the Cascines or the foot of Fiesoli? or about the streets to the Duomo and Annunziata, as I used to do in the heat of the day, for the mere pleasure of looking at the buildings, when every body else was gone into bed? What a thousand years ago that was! yet I recollect it as if but yesterday! I sometimes think I have lived two or three lives. My thirteen months at Florence was a pleasant youth to one of them. Seven months and a-half at Paris, with four or five journeys thither since, was a middle age, quite different from five and twenty years in Parliament which had preceded-and an age since! Besides, as I was an infant when my father became Minister, I came into the world at five years old; knew half the remaining Courts of King William and Queen Anne, or heard them talked of as fresh; being the youngest and favourite child, was carried to almost the first operas, kissed the hand of George the First, and am now hearing the frolics of his great-great-grandson ;*I-no, all this cannot have happened in one life! I have seen a mistress of James the Second,† the Duke of Marlborough's burial, three or four wars, the whole career, victories, and death of Lord Chatham, the loss of America, the second conflagration of London by Lord George Gordon-and yet I am not so old as Methusalem by four or five centuries! In short, I can sit and amuse myself with my own memory, and yet find new stores at every audience that I give to it. Then, for private episodes, varieties of characters, political intrigues, literary anecdotes, &c., the profusion that I remember is endless; in short, when I reflect on all I have seen, heard, read, written, the many idle hours I have passed, the nights I have wasted playing at faro, the weeks, nay months, I have spent in pain, you will not wonder that I almost think I have, like Pythagoras, been Panthoides Euphorbus, and have retained one memory in at least two bodies. Adieu!

LETTER CCCCXXXII.

Berkeley Square, March 5, 1785.

YOUR letter of the 8th of last month, telling me that your great illness had not been the gout, surprised me much, as we had had no other account of it. I had indeed wondered at your being blooded for it, which is not the treatment of the gout in the stomach here. Whatever your disorder was, thank God it is gone!

* George, Prince of Wales.

Mrs. Godfrey, mother of the Duke of Berwick and Lady Waldegrave.

For my part, I am still a prisoner, and have been so above three entire months; the longest fit I ever had but one. Indeed, the third relapse is but now going off. Relapses! no wonder! from the beginning of December we have had such a succession of vicissitudes of all kinds of bad weather as I never remember; repeated snows, severe frosts, fogs, sudden rains, and assassinating winds have made every body ill, or kept them so. All my hope is from the almanack, which tells me that spring is at hand; yet the month of March, like the fast on the vigil of a saint's festival, is very apt to prepare one by rigour for rejoicing.

I have heard nothing lately about your nephew. I fear his holidays too are not arrived yet. His friends and mine, the poor Duke and Duchess of Montrose, are exceedingly happy: Lord Graham is just married to Lord Ashburnham's daughter, a pretty amiable young women. They have long been anxious to see him settled. He is a pattern of sons, and their sole remaining comfort under such a complication of miseries as they have been, and are, afflicted with.*

Though we are nearer to the promised field of battle than you are, we know no more of the Dutch war, nor whether it is to be accommodated. The politicians of our coffee-houses are easily diverted from Continental objects when they have the least food at home, as is natural; and we have a few topics that are not quite indifferent. The most recent, and consequently the theme of the day, is the demolition of the scrutiny for Westminster: the Opposition renewed the motion for ordering the High Bailiff to make the return, and carried the question by a majority of thirty-eight; and yesterday he did return Lord Hood and Mr. Fox.t At night there were great illuminations. I expected to have catched a great cold; for, the mob at eleven at night knocking at my door with their commands, I rung my bell in great haste for candles, for fear of having my windows broken, as they were two years ago, when I had the gout too; and the servants running in to draw up the curtains, and leaving all the doors open, turned my room from a hot-house to an ice-house: however, I got no damage.

Sunday, 6th.

We are threatened with illuminations again to-morrow night, as they talk of Mr. Fox being carried in procession to the House of Commons in the morning. I wish some mischief do not happen; our new generation are rather bacchanalian, and not averse to being riotous under the Princeps Juventutis. However, what is foreseen,

*The Duke of Montrose had been totally blind for above thirty years, was very deaf, and had lost the use of his legs. His Duchess Lady Lucy Manners, was paralytic; and they had lost their only daughter Lady Lucy, wife of Mr. Archibald Douglas.

The Court had instituted the scrutiny in favour of Sir Cecil Wray, the third candidate, to exclude Mr. Charles Fox, whom the King detested for being attached to the Prince of Wales.

The Prince.

seldom happens. I believe that, of Argus's hundred eyes, those saw best that looked backward-and wise prophets took the hint. We know pretty well that dreams, that used to pass for predictions, are imperfect recollections.

Being no soothsayer, I will anticipate nothing about Ireland, which is to be the next great question. However it has happened, we have for some years resembled gamesters of fortune, who play to know whether their own shall remain theirs.

Tuesday, 8th.

There were illuminations again last night, but I hear of no riot or mischief except of some fractures of glass in my square: a few panes were broken at my next door, in the windows of her Dowager Grace of Beaufort, who would not put out lights; and many in those of Lady Mary Coke, who never misses an opportunity of being an amazon, or a martyr, or a tragedy-queen. She puts me in mind of the Duchess of Albemarle,† who was mad with pride. The first Duke of Montagu married her as Emperor of China; and to her death she was served on the knee, taking her maids for ladies of the bedchamber.

We have still such parching easterly winds that I dare not venture abroad, but I shall take the air the moment the sun lands.

9th.

This letter was written, and was going to the Secretary's office, when your nephew came in, just arrived in town; and, as he sets out on Saturday on his visit to you, I detained my despatch, as I can write more freely by him than I would by French, German, or Tuscan post-offices.

We are certainly in a very embarrassing situation with Ireland. Our raw boy of a Minister has most rashly and unadvisedly plunged himself into a great difficulty, and promised to that country much more than was necessary. The dissatisfaction, however, is not near so great here as might have been expected; as it will certainly meet with many other discontents, which Mr. Pitt's ignorance and in expe

* Miss Berkeley, sister of the late Lord Bottetort, and widow of Lord Noel Somerset, Duke of Beaufort.

+ Widow of Christopher, second Duke of Albermarle. As she was a coheiress of the last Cavendish, Duke of Newcastle, she enjoyed an immense fortune; and, being mad, was confined at Montagu House, but served with royal state. Her relations pretended she was dead, and the Duke was forced to produce her in Westminster Hall. After his death, she lived at Clerkenwell, and 30007. a-year was allowed for her imaginary court. The rest was laid up, and went to her own relations. The story of her second marriage was introduced into the last act of Cibber's comedy of Sir Courtly Nice. Lady Mary Coke endeavoured to persuade people that she had been married to Edward, Duke of York, the King's brother; and after his death signed her letters and notes Marye, with an almost invisible e in the tail of the y.

+ Mr. Pitt.

The famous propositions for equal trade with Ireland.

rience, not at all cooled by his vanity and insolence, have sown, his situation grows but tottering. The rapidly-chosen Parliament seems by no means firm; and the outrageous injustice of the scrutiny at Westminster, which was solely set on and maintained by royal vengeance, has fallen on the Ministers, who wished to be rid of it, but not to be beaten by 38.* However, I fancy the authorf is still more mortified than they are: Fox has triumphed over him, as Wilkes did. Monday last did not pass so quietly as I had heard at first; the new Marquis of Buckingham, who had been profuse of lights last Friday, thought he had done enough, and would not exhibit one on Monday. The mob demolished his windows. Two young rioters of rank, who said they were only innocent spectators, were beaten and taken prisoners by the Marquis's domestics, and carried before him. He assuming great dignity, the two young gentlemen let loose a torrent of very coarse appellations. Next morning he recollected himself, and made submissions in proportion to the abuse he had received, not given. This is the story on one side. On the other, it is affirmed, that only one young gentleman was carried into the house, and, being taken for one of the mob, was threatened with a constable by the Marquis, who, on discovering his error, made proper excuses. In short, in such a season of party violence, one cannot learn the truth of what happens in next street: future historians, however, will know it exactly, and, what is more, people will believe them!

We have a mass of matters besides on the carpet; as, India in several branches, the reform of Parliament, the late taxes, and more to be laid. Pitt has certainly amazing Parliamentary abilities; he has not yet given any indication of others; and if he gains experience, it is likely to be at his own cost. His measures hitherto have been precipitate and indigested.

The latest colour of affairs on the Continent is crimson. Maestricht is said to be invested by the Emperor. As this letter will not pass under your Great-Duke's eye, to whom it would not be wellbred to say so, I may tell you that I abhor his brother, whose rapine and reformations are conducted with equal injustice and cruelty; and, when they are so, I suspect the former to be the motive of the latter. I am only comforted by hoping he vexes the King of Prussia. If those two men and the Czarina could plague one another without consequences to thousands, one should delight in their broils.

I hope, for yours, his, and my sake, that your nephew will find you quite recovered: his impatience to see you is most amiable; but you deserve it. Adieu!

*The number of the majority for closing the scrutiny.

+ The King.

The Great-Duke opened all letters before they were delivered.