LETTER CCCCXXXIII.

Berkeley Square, April 8, 1785. YOUR letter of March 15th, written by your own hand, came most welcome to me yesterday; for your nephew, who, I trust, is now with you, received one written by your servant just before he set out for Florence. As it mentioned a return of your bleeding, it alarmed me, for that is no gouty symptom; but, as you again write, I flatter myself the discharge will be a remedy instead of a disorder. My gout is gone, but has left a vicegerent more persecuting than itself; I mean the rheumatism. In short, you must not talk of age to me, who am as much broken as if I was a hundred. General Oglethorpe, who sometimes visits me, and who is ninety-five, has the activity of youth when compared with me. His eyes, ears, articulation, limbs, and memory would suit a boy, if a boy could recollect a century backwards. His teeth are gone; he is a shadow, and a wrinkled one; but his spirits and his spirit are in full bloom: two years and a half ago, he challenged a neighbouring gentleman for trespassing on his manor. I could carry a cannon as easily as let off a pistol. There is indeed a circumstance that makes me think myself an antediluvian; I have literally seen seven descents in one family. I do believe Oglethorpe can boast of recollecting a longer genealogy. In short, I was schoolfellow of the last two Earls of Waldegrave, and used to go to play with them in the holidays when I was about twelve years old. They lived with their grandmother, natural daughter of James the Second. One evening while I was there, came in her mother, Mrs. Godfrey,* that King's mistress-ancient, in truth, and so superannuated that she scarce seemed to know where she was. I saw her another time in her chair in St. James's park, and have a perfect idea of her face, which was pale, round, and sleek. Begin with her; then count her daughter, Lady Waldegrave; then the latter's son, the Ambassador; his daughter, Lady Harriot Beard;† her daughter, the present Dowager Countess of Powis ; and her daughter, Lady Clive-there are six; and the last now lies in of a son, and might have done so six or seven years ago, had she married at fourteen. When one has beheld such a pedigree, one may say, " And yet I am but sixty-seven!" I don't know whether it is not another patriarchal characteristic to tell you, that my great-niece, Mrs. Fitzroy, is brought to bed of the fifty-sixth of my nephews and nieces,

* Mrs. Godfrey was sister of John Duke of Marlborough, and by King James was mother of the Duke of Berwick and the first Lady Waldegrave; she afterwards married Colonel Godfrey, by whom she had Lady Falmouth and Mrs. Dunch. See an account of Mrs. Godfrey in the Memoires de Grammont.

Henrietta, only daughter of James, first Earl of Waldegrave, was married to Lord Edward Herbert, brother of the last Marquis of Powis, by whom she had an only daughter, Barbara, first Countess of Powis.

Laura Keppel.

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 authort 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; 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.

LETTER CCCCXXXIII.

Berkeley Square, April 8, 1785. YOUR letter of March 15th, written by your own hand, came most welcome to me yesterday; for your nephew, who, I trust, is now with you, received one written by your servant just before he set out for Florence. As it mentioned a return of your bleeding, it alarmed me, for that is no gouty symptom; but, as you again write, I flatter myself the discharge will be a remedy instead of a disorder. My gout is gone, but has left a vicegerent more persecuting than itself; I mean the rheumatism. In short, you must not talk of age to me, who am as much broken as if I was a hundred. General Oglethorpe, who sometimes visits me, and who is ninety-five, has the activity of youth when compared with me. His eyes, ears, articulation, limbs, and memory would suit a boy, if a boy could recollect a century backwards. His teeth are gone; he is a shadow, and a wrinkled one; but his spirits and his spirit are in full bloom: two years and a half ago, he challenged a neighbouring gentleman for trespassing on his manor. I could carry a cannon as easily as let off a pistol. There is indeed a circumstance that makes me think myself an antediluvian; I have literally seen seven descents in one family. I do believe Oglethorpe can boast of recollecting a longer genealogy. In short, I was schoolfellow of the last two Earls of Waldegrave, and used to go to play with them in the holidays when I was about twelve years old. They lived with their grandmother, natural daughter of James the Second. One evening while I was there, came in her mother, Mrs. Godfrey,* that King's mistress-ancient, in truth, and so superannuated that she scarce seemed to know where she was. I saw her another time in her chair in St. James's park, and have a perfect idea of her face, which was pale, round, and sleek. Begin with her; then count her daughter, Lady Waldegrave; then the latter's son, the Ambassador; his daughter, Lady Harriot Beard;† her daughter, the present Dowager Countess of Powis ; and her daughter, Lady Clive-there are six; and the last now lies in of a son, and might have done so six or seven years ago, had she married at fourteen. When one has beheld such a pedigree, one may say, "And yet I am but sixty-seven!" I don't know whether it is not another patriarchal characteristic to tell you, that my great-niece, Mrs. Fitzroy, is brought to bed of the fifty-sixth of my nephews and nieces,

* Mrs. Godfrey was sister of John Duke of Marlborough, and by King James was mother of the Duke of Berwick and the first Lady Waldegrave; she afterwards married Colonel Godfrey, by whom she had Lady Falmouth and Mrs. Dunch. See an account of Mrs. Godfrey in the Memoires de Grammont.

Henrietta, only daughter of James, first Earl of Waldegrave, was married to Lord Edward Herbert, brother of the last Marquis of Powis, by whom she had an only daughter, Barbara, first Countess of Powis.

Laura Keppel.

and the present Lady Waldegrave is in a fair way of adding another to the catalogue.

I am not surprised that Mozzi finds there is some difference between being the gallant, when young, of an old woman,-and the husband, when elderly, of a girl: methinks, he might have concluded so without making the experiment. Mr. Duane has, I believe, left his collection to his nephew, and money enough to preserve it;* and the man is a lawyer too, so not likely to be ruined: therefore, Mozzi's present, which is handsome, will be welcome.

Your Lord Cowper and his Knighthood of St. Hubert is peddling lunacy. I find that our madmen, though they do not come to their senses abroad, degenerate by transplantation. Garters and orders are simple things in themselves, but succedaneums to them are quite contemptible. An English Earl stooping to be a Knight of St. Hubert is as if a tiger should be proud of being admitted into some order among cats! I think he had better have bought one of the Pope's hats; and then, at least, he would not have been papable. I literally remember a mad foreigner at Paris (I forget of what country,) who had a rage of universal knighthood, and used to appear at the theatres with a different coloured riband every night. The Government forbad his being a Knight of the St. Esprit, but left all the other stripes in Europe's rainbow to his option. I have seen him Companion of the Garter, Bath, and Thistle by turns.

I have no news to send to you or your nephew. The House of Commons could not adjourn for Easter, as for ten days they could not get a House to choose a committee on the Buckinghamshire Petition; so, the Speaker and two clerks were forced to go and sit every day in empty walls: your nephew must explain this paragraph to you, as it would be too long for a letter. A committee is chosen at last, but nothing is advanced. The motion of Reform of Parliament is deferred till next week. The Irish business hangs off too; and the House sits now till midnight hearing counsel from Manchester against some of the late taxes. The east wind lasts too, so that in every respect it looks like the beginning of winter; and one so long neither Oglethorpe nor I remember. The sight of your nephew, I hope, has revived you; it is more than I can say that my fifty-six have affected for me.

LETTER CCCCXXXIV.

May 7, 1785.

As I have received a letter from yourself since your nephew set out, and none from him, I flatter myself that he found you well. I

* Most of it, however, consisting of pictures, drawings by Hussey, and antiques, were sold by auction. His gold antique medals Mr. Duane had sold himself to Dr. Hunter.

have had nothing to tell you worth writing; and, though I begin a letter from my usual regularity, I know not how it will get on, nor whether I shall be able to despatch it without more ballast. I know nothing but what all Europe knows, that there is a general drought and no grass. Of conversation, the chief topic is air-balloons. A French girl, daughter of a dancer, has made a voyage into the clouds, and nobody has yet broken a neck; so, neither good nor harm has hitherto been produced by these aerial enterprises. Neither politics. nor fashion have furnished any novelties; so that, if I continue my monthly tribute, you must be content with its being of no more value than a peppercorn.

I am inclined to wish that Mrs. Damer would make you another visit. She is very delicate, and often out of order; and certainly was better for her Italian journey. She is engaged on an extraordinary work. There is just built a new bridge of stone over the Thames, at Henley, which is close to Park Place. Mrs. Damer offered to make two gigantic masks of the Thame and Isis, for the key-stones, and actually modelled them; and a statuary was to execute them. I said, "Oh! it will be imagined that you had little hand in them: you must perform them yourself." She consented. The Thame is an old marine god, is finished, and put up; and, they say, has a prodigious effect. She is now at work on the Isis; a most beautiful nymph's face, simple as the antique, but quite a new beauty. The idea was taken from Mrs. Freeman, of Fawley Court, a neighbour of General Conway. The key-stones of a county bridge carved by a young lady is an unparallelled curiosity! The originals in terra cotta are now exhibiting at the Royal Academy; with a model of the same material of two kittens, by her too. She has a singular talent for catching the characters of animals. I have two dogs sleeping, by her, (which she has since executed in marble for her brother,† the Duke of Richmond,) that are perfection. We have besides a young statuary, one Proctor, who is marvellous. He has gained the prizes in drawing, painting, and sculpture; and now exhibits a model in terra cotta of Ixion, less than life, which is a prodigy of anatomy, with all the freedom of nature. Miss Boyle, a grand-daughter of Sir Charles Hanbury Williams, and a Miss Ogle, scholar of Mrs. Damer, model admirably too, and the first paints in oil. My brother, Sir Edward, said, that we have so many miracles in painting and music, that they cease to be any miracles at all. I confess, in the former I see few that attain the degree of doctor; of the others I am no judge.

There has been an enormous fire in Southwark, which has de

* The seat of General Conway, Mrs. Damer's father.

Charles, third Duke of Richmond, married Lady Mary Bruce, daughter of Lady Ailesbury, and half-sister to Mrs. Damer.

Charlotte, second daughter of Sir Ch. H. Williams, married Captain Walsingham Boyle, brother of the Earl of Shannon.

VOL. II.-31