you may guess, turned to the story of Bianca Capello.* It is a little palliated, yet I think was clearly an empoisonnement. I find, too, more freedom than I expected, though promised. I did apprehend that the characters of Princes, drawn under the eye of a Prince, would be softened and softened, till scarce a speck would remain; but, by that of Duke Francis, I perceive that the Great-Duke has surmounted many royal prejudices. The style seems simple and natural, and does not aspire to dignity or beauty of diction. One term, often repeated, sounds very vulgar. The author talks of the impudenza of Bianca's arts and conduct. This is a very gross word, in spite of the Italian liquids in the termination. In England and France we are too refined to use so coarse a phrase. Mr. Gibbon would not use it on a Pope or a Father of the Church ; and to employ it on a lady, and a sovereign lady! mercy on us! What would Galluzzi say of the legis

* The story of Bianca Capello has been variously related. The following is Walpole's version, written in a cartouche on the frame of a painting of Bianca, bought out of the Vitelli palace at Florence by Sir Horace Mann, and sent to Strawberry Hill: "Bianca Capello, a Venetian lady, who, having disobliged her family by marrying a Florentine banker, was reduced to maintain him by washing linen. Francis, the Great-Duke, saw, fell in love with, and made her his mistress, and her husband his minister: but the latter, after numberless tyrannies, for which she obtained his pardon, and after repeated ill-usage of her, for which she pardoned him, having murdered a man, and being again protected by her, the Great-Duke told her, that, though he would remit her husband's punishment, he would pardon whoever should kill him. The relations of the deceased murdered the assassin, and Francis married his widow Bianca, who was poisoned with him at a banquet by Cardinal Ferdinand, afterwards called the Great, brother and successor of Duke Francis.”— ED.

latress Catharine of Russia? Of that idol of modern philosophers? Whose ascent Voltaire called, only a family squabble, with which he would not meddle. This is the way in which the good-breeding of the present age mentions atrocious deeds;

Just hints a crime, and hesitates dislike.

The torpor of the times has been a little roused this week by some packets of events. The Admirals Graves and Hood have attacked a superior French fleet at the mouth of the Chesapeak, and have not beaten it. It is the business of the French, not ours, to say who did beat. I doubt we did not gain a naval crown, and have lost a seventy-four gun ship. In return, Commodore Johnstone has taken four rich Dutchmen, and our India fleet is arrived-which Johnstone is not. However, he is the hero of the day, as Admiral Rodney has a little over-gilt his own statue,* and Lord Cornwallis is trying to scramble to New York, without having quite conquered America. Lord Hawke + is dead,

*By the plunder of St. Eustatia. [The conduct of Admiral Rodney and General Vaughan, in seizing and confiscating all the property at St. Eustatia, had, shortly before the close of the session, been brought before the House of Commons by Mr. Burke. As the motion, though it was only for papers necessary for an inquiry into that transaction, led to a censure upon the Ministry, if the orders of confiscation were sent from hence, and if not, to a censure upon Rodney and Vaughan, it was rejected upon a division, by 160 to 86.-Ed.]

+ A capital naval hero in the war of 1759. [Of the glorious victory obtained in 1759, by Admiral Hawke, over the French squadron off Quiberon Bay, Walpole, in his Memoirs of George II., has given a spirited description: "On the first notice," he says, " that the French fleet had escaped out of Brest, that prudent and active officer, Sir Edward Hawke, sailed in quest of it. He had twenty-three ships; they twenty-one. He

and does not seem to have bequeathed his mantle to anybody.

I do not find the least curiosity stirring about Minorca. If it is lost, the public will be content, should it produce a court-martial, which is found to be an excellent soporific on all our disasters.-We have wherewithal to pass the winter very agreeably. Adieu!

LETTER CCCLXII.

Strawberry Hill, Oct. 29, 1781.

I HAVE received a letter to-night from the younger

came up with them on their own coast; and, before half his fleet had joined him, began the attack. Conflans at first made a show of fighting, but soon took the part of endeavouring to shelter himself among the rocks, of which that coast was full. It was the 20th of November, and the shortness of the day prevented the total destruction of the enemy; but neither darkness nor a dreadful tempest that ensued could call off Sir Edward from pursuing his blow. The roaring of the elements was redoubled by the thunder from our ships; and both concurred, in that scene of horror, to put a period to the navy and hopes of France. Seven ships of the line got into the river Vilaine, eight more escaped to different ports. Conflans's own ship and another were run on shore and burnt. One we took. Two of ours were lost in the storm, but the crews saved. Lord Howe, who attacked the Formidable, bore down on her with such violence, that her prow forced in his lower tier of guns. Captain Digby, in the Dunkirk, received the fire of twelve of the enemy's ships, and lost not a man. Keppel's was full of water, and he thought it sinking: a sudden squall emptied his ship, but he was informed all his powder was wet; 'Then,' said he, 'I am sorry I am safe.' They came and told him, a small quantity was undamaged: Very well,' said he, then attack again.' Not above eight of our ships were engaged in obtaining that decisive victory." From 1765 to 1771, Hawke was First Lord of the Admiralty. He was created a baron in 1776. His monument at Stoneham records, that "a Prince, unsolicited, conferred on him dignities he disdained to ask."-ED.]

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Sir Horace, and answer it to both or either, for this reason: the courier may be detained here, like the last, for several days; in which case, nay, without that, the nephew will probably have left Florence before the courier gets back, as Mrs. Noel says the junior Sir is to be here by the meeting of Parliament. To him, if not set out, I must say, that nothing could be more unnecessary than an apology to me for not advertising me of this journey; and, having been so constantly kind to me, I was not in the least suspicious of his wanting any of his usual goodness for me. I must again quote Mrs. Noel, who, not having heard of his setting out till some time after he was gone, concluded, from its being so late in the season, that he would not go at all. Had I had anything particular to send, I should certainly have informed myself more carefully. In good truth, I never am diffident of my friends, nor ever saw the smallest ground in Sir Horace for being so.

Now, my old correspondent, to you. I am charmed with the good account your nephew gives me of you. He says you have no complaint but a little trembling of your hand. I, who am so nervous, that the sudden clapping of a door makes me shudder all over, call that nothing. I have lost the use of several joints of my fingers, and often fear I shall lose entirely the service of my right hand. Such alarms, amongst other reflections, reconcile one to the parting with one's whole self;

but what everybody that has common sense must feel, it is idle to detail.

I must own, I do expect the loss of Minorca. It is

true, nothing can be more bungling than our enemies. I have often thought, and, I believe, said to you, that Russia, Prussia, and Austria must look with infinite contempt on our western warfare. They divided a kingdom in fewer months than we have been years in fighting drawn battles. They give us room to make a kind of figure by letting us make head at all against France, Spain, Holland, and America. Yet I am not so sanguine as your nephew. I think it would be phrenzy for our fleet to pass the Straits at this time of year for the relief of Minorca. Separated they are, I believe, the combined fleets; but when we did not venture to encounter them at the mouth of our own channel that was! would it be wise to invite them to reassemble and empound us in the Mediterranean, or reduce us to fight our way against their superiority at the door of it? Clumsy as they are, I doubt they are not dull to that degree. Nay, I fear they do know that, even in this dilatory way, they will ruin us by the expense we are at. I should have thought they might have done their business sooner, unless they look on our exhausting ourselves as more permanent destruction. Little as they have done for America, which shows how injudicious our perseverance has been, we are almost at the last gasp there, and tremble for Lord Cornwallis. I should not say so much as this but by your own courier; for I have too much fierté to allow to enemies even what they know. We have no particular news at present, and I will not make my letter longer than is necessary; as it is past