clothes; but I am to pay the additional price of being ridiculous, to which I submit; she has chosen me a white ground with purple and green flowers. I represented that, however young my spirits may be, my bloom is rather past; but the moment I declared against juvenile colours, I found it was determined I should have nothing else: so be it. T'other night I had an uncomfortable situation with the Duchess of Bedford: we had played late at loo at Lady John Scot's; I came down stairs with their two graces of Bedford and Grafton: there was no chair for me: I said I will walk till I meet one. "Oh!" said the Duchess of Grafton, "the Duchess of Bedford will set you down:" there were we charmingly awkward and complimenting: however, she was forced to press it, and I to accept it; in a minute she spied a hackney chair-" Oh! there is a chair, but I beg your pardon, it looks as if I wanted to get rid of you, but indeed I don't; only I am afraid the Duke will want his supper." You may imagine how much I was afraid of making him wait. The ball at Bedford-house, on Monday, was very numerous and magnificent. The two Princes were there, deep hazard, and the Dutch deputies, who are a proverb for their dulness: they have brought with them a young Dutchman, who is the richest man of Amsterdam. I am amazed Mr. Yorke has not married him! But the delightful part of the night was the appearance of the Duke of Newcastle, who is veering round again, as it is time to betray Mr. Pitt. The Duchess was at the very upper end of the gallery, and though some of the Pelham court were there too, yet they showed so little cordiality to this revival of connexion, that Newcastle had nobody to attend him but Sir Edward Montagu, who kept pushing him all up the gallery. From thence he went into the hazard-room, and wriggled, and shuffled, and lisped, and winked, and spied, till he got behind the Duke of Cumberland, the Duke of Bedford, and Rigby; the first of whom did not deign to notice him; but he must come to it. You would have died to see Newcastle's pitiful and distressed figure,-nobody went near him: he tried to flatter people, that were too busy to mind him; in short, he was quite disconcerted; his treachery used to be so sheathed in folly, that he was never out of countenance; but it is plain he grows old. To finish his confusion and anxiety, George Selwyn, Brand, and I, went and stood near him, and in half whispers, that he might hear, said, "Lord, how he is broke! how old he looks!" then I said, This room feels very cold: I believe there never is a fire in it." Presently afterwards I said, "Well, I'll not stay here; this room has been washed to-day." In short, I believe we made him take a double dose of Gascoign's powder when he went home. Next night Brand and I communicated this interview to Lord Temple, who was in agonies; and yesterday his chariot was seen in forty different parts of the town. I take for granted that Fox will not resist these overtures, and then we shall see the paymastership, the secretaryship of Ireland, and all Calcraft's regiment once more afloat.

66

a Gertrude Duchess of Bedford, daughter of Earl Gower.

May 1. I did not finish this letter last week, for the picture could not set out till next Thursday. Your kin brought Lord Mandeville with them to Strawberry; he was very civil and good-humoured, and I trust I was so too. My nuptialities dined here yesterday. The wedding is fixed for the 15th. The town, who saw Maria set out in the Earl's coach, concluded it was yesterday. He notified his marriage to the Monarch last Saturday, and it was received civilly. Mrs. Thornhill is dead, and I am impatient to hear the fate of Miss Mildmay. The Princes Ferdinand and Henry have been skirmishing, have been beaten, and have beat, but with no decision.

The ball at Mr. Conolly's was by no means delightful. The house is small, it was hot, and was composed of young Irish. I was retiring when they went to supper, but was fetched back to sup with Prince Edward and the Duchess of Richmond, who is his present passion. He had chattered as much love to her as would serve ten balls. The conversation turned on the Guardian-most unfortunately the Prince asked her if she should like Mr. Clackit-" No, indeed, Sir," said the Duchess. Lord Tavistock burst out into a loud laugh, and I am afraid none of the company quite kept their countenances. Adieu! This letter is gossiping enough for any Mrs. Clackit, but I know you love these details.

TO SIR HORACE MANN.

Strawberry Hill, May 10, 1759.

THE laurels we began to plant in Guadaloupe do not thrive-we have taken half the island, and despair of the other half which we are gone to take. General Hobson is dead, and many of our men-it seems all climates are not equally good for conquest-Alexander and Cæsar would have looked wretchedly after a yellow fever! A hero that would have leaped a rampart, would perhaps have shuddered at the thought of being scalped. Glory will be taken in its own way, and cannot reconcile itself to the untoward barbarism of America. In short, if we don't renounce expeditions, our history will be a journal of miscarriages. What luck must a general have that escapes a flux, or being shot abroad-or at home! How fatal a war has this been! From Pondicherry to Canada, from Russia to Senegal, the world has been a great bill of mortality? The King of Prussia does not appear to have tapped his campaign yet-he was slow last year; it is well if he concludes this as thunderingly as he did the last.

Our winter-politics are drawn to the dregs. The King is gone to

a Thomas Conolly, Esq., son of Lady Anne Conolly, sister of Thomas Earl of Strafford, and who inherited great part of her brother's property. Mr. Conolly was married to Lady Louisa Lenox, sister of the Duke of Richmond, and of Lady Holland. They died without issue.-E.

b Francis Marquis of Tavistock, only son of John Duke of Bedford. He died before his father, in 1767, in consequence of a fall from his horse when hunting.-E.

Kensington, and the Parliament is going out of town. The ministers who don't agree, will, I believe, let the war decide their squabbles Mr. Pitt will take Canada and the cabinet-council together, or miscarry in both. There are Dutch deputies here, who are likely to be here some time: their negotiations are not of an epigrammatic nature, and we are in no hurry to decide on points which we cannot well give up, nor maintain without inconvenience. But it is idle to describe what describes itself by not being concluded.

I have received yours of the 7th of last month, and fear you are quite in the right about a history of the house of Medici-yet it is pity it should not be written! You don't, I know, want any spur to incite you to remember me and any commission with which I trouble you; and therefore you must not take it in that light, but as the consequence of my having just seen the Neapolitan book of Herculaneum, that I mention it to you again. Though it is far from being finely engraved, yet there are bits in it that make me wish much to have it, and if you could procure it for me, I own I should be pleased. Adieu! my dear Sir.

SIR,

TO THE REV. HENRY ZOUCH.

Strawberry Hill, May 14, 1759.

You accuse me with so much delicacy and with so much seeming justice, that I must tell you the truth, cost me what it will. It is in fact, I own, that I have been silent, not knowing what to say to you, or how not to say something about your desire that I would attend the affair of the navigation of Calder in Parliament. In truth, 1 scarce ever do attend private business on solicitation. If I attend, I cannot help forming an opinion, and when formed I do not care not to be guided by it, and at the same time it is very unpleasant to vote against a person whom one went to serve. I know nothing of the merits of the navigation in question, and it would have given me great pain to have opposed, as it might have happened, a side espoused by one for whom I had conceived such an esteem as I have for you, Sir. I did not tell you my scruples, because you might have thought them affected, and because, to say the truth, I choose to disguise them. I have seen too much of the parade of conscience to expect that an ostentation of it in me should be treated with uncommon lenity. I cannot help having scruples; I can help displaying them; and now, Sir, that I have made you my confessor, I trust you will keep my secret for my sake, and give me absolution for what I have committed against you.

I certainly do propose to digest the materials that Vertue had col

lected' relating to English arts; but doubting of the merit of the subject, as you do, Sir, and not proposing to give myself much trouble about it, I think, at present, that I shall still call the work his. However, at your leisure, I shall be much obliged to you for any hints. For nobler or any other game, I don't think of it; I am sick of the character of author; I am sick of the consequences of it; I am weary of seeing my name in the newspapers; I am tired with reading foolish criticisms on me, and as foolish defences of me; and I trust my friends will be so good as to let the last abuse of me pass unanswered. It is called "Remarks" on my Catalogue, asperses the Revolution more than it does my book, and, in one word, is written by a nonjuring preacher, who was a dog-doctor. Of me he knows so little, that he thinks to punish me by abusing King William! Had that Prince been an author, perhaps I might have been a little ungentle to him too. I am not dupe enough to think that any body wins a crown for the sake of the people. Indeed, I am Whig enough to be glad to be abused; that is, that any body may write what they please; and though the Jacobites are the only men who abuse outrageously that liberty of the press which all their labours tend to demolish, I would not have the nation lose such a blessing for their impertinences. That their spirit and projects revive is certain. All the histories of England, Hume's, as you observe, and Smollett's more avowedly, are calculated to whiten the house of Stuart. All the magazines are erected to depress writers of the other side, and as it has been learnt within these few days, France is preparing an army of commentators to illustrate the works of those professors. But to come to what ought to be a particular part of this letter. I am very sensible, Sir, to the confidence you place in me, and shall assuredly do nothing to forfeit it; at the same time, I must take the liberty you allow me, of making some objections to your plan. As your friend, I must object to the subject. It is heroic to sacrifice one's own interest to do good, but I would be sure of doing some before I offered myself up. You will make enemies; are you sure you shall make proselytes? I am ready to believe you have no ambition now--but may you not have hereafter? Are bishops corrigible or placable? Few men are capable of forgiving being told their faults in private; who can bear being told of them publicly?-Then, you propose to write in Latin: that is, you propose to be read by those only whom you intend to censure, and whose interest it will be to find faults in your work. If I proposed to attack the clergy, I would at least call in the laity to hear my arguments, and I fear the laity do not much listen to Latin. In short, Sir, I wish much to see something of your writing, and conse

Mr. Walpole, in his dedication of the "Anecdotes of Painting," says, he is rather an Editor than an Author; but much as he certainly derived from Vertue, his own share in this interesting work entitles him to the thanks of every lover of the fine arts, and of British antiquities.-C.

b The French were at this time attempting to play the farce of invasion. Flat-bottomed boats were building in all the ports of Normandy and Brittany, calculated to transport an army of a hundred thousand men.-C.

quently I wish to see it in a shape in which it would give me most pleasure.

You will say, that your concealing your name is an answer to all I have said. A bad author may be concealed, but then what good does he do? I am persuaded you would write well-ask your heart, Sir, if you then would like to conceal yourself. Forgive my frankness; I am not old, but I have lived long enough to be sure that I give you good advice.

There is lately published a voluminous history of Gustavus Adolphus, sadly written, yet very amusing, from the matter.

TO GEORGE MONTAGU, ESQ.

Arlington Street, May 16, 1759.

I PACKED up a long letter to you in the case with the Earl of Manchester, which I suppose did not arrive at Greatworth before you left it. Don't send for it, for there are private histories in it, that should not travel post, and which will be full as new to you a month hence.

Well! Maria was married yesterday. Don't we manage well? the original day was not once put off: lawyers and milliners were all ready canonically. It was as sensible a wedding as ever was. There was neither form nor indecency, both which generally meet on such occasions. They were married at my brother's in Pall-Mall, just before dinner, by Mr. Keppel; the company, my brother, his son, Mrs. Keppel, and Charlotte, Lady Elizabeth Keppel, Lady Betty Waldegrave, and I. We dined there; the Earl and new Countess got into their postchaise at eight o'clock, and went to Navestock alone, where they stay till Saturday night: on Sunday she is to be presented, and to make my Lady Coventry distracted, who, t'other day, told Lady Anne Connolly how she dreaded Lady Louisa's arrival; "But," said she, "now I have seen her, I am easy."

Maria was in a white silver gown, with a hat very much pulled over her face; what one could see of it was handsomer than ever; a cold maiden blush gave her the sweetest delicacy in the world. I had liked to have demolished the solemnity of the ceremony by laughing, when Mr. Keppel read the words, "Bless thy servant and thy handmaid ;" it struck me how ridiculous it would have been, had Miss Drax been the handmaid, as she was once to have been.

Did I ever tell you what happened at my Lord Hertford's wedding? You remember that my father's style was not purity itself. As the bride was so young and so exceedingly bashful, and as my Lord Hertford is a little of the prude himself, great means were used to keep Sir Robert within bounds. He yawned, and behaved decently. When the dessert was removed, the Bishop, who married them, said, "Sir Robert, what health shall we drink?" It was just after Vernon's