little idea I have of quantity. I will tell you one more story of myself, and you will comprehend what sort of a head I have! Mrs. Leneve said to me one day, " There is a vast waste of coals in your house; you should make the servants take off the fires at night." I recollected this as I was going to bed, and, out of economy, put my fire out with a bottle of Bristol water! However, as I certainly will neglect nothing to oblige you, I went to Sisson and gave him the letter. He has undertaken both the engine and the drawing, and has promised the utmost care in both. The latter, he says, must be very large, and that it will take some time to have it performed very accurately. He has promised me both in six or seven weeks. But another time, don't imagine, because I can bespeak an enamelled bauble, that I am fit to be entrusted with the direction of the machine at Marli. It is not to save myself trouble, for I think nothing so for you, but I would have you have credit, and I should be afraid of dishonouring you.

There! there is the King of Prussia has turned all our war and peace topsy-turvy! If Mr. Pitt will conquer Germany too, he must go and do it himself. Fourteen thousand soldiers and nine generals taken, as it were, in a partridge net! and what is worse, I have not heard yet that the monarch owns his rashness. As often as he does, indeed, he is apt to repair it. You know I have always dreaded Daun-one cannot make a blunder but he profits of it-and this just at the moment that we heard of nothing but new bankruptcy in France. I want to know what a kingdom is to do when it is forced to run away?

14th.-Oh! I interrupt my reflections-there is another bit of a victory! Prince Henry, who has already succeeded to his brother's crown, as king of the fashion, has beaten a parcel of Wirtemberghers and taken four battalions. Daun is gone into Bohemia, and Dresden is still to be ours. The French are gone into winter quarters-thank God! What weather is here to be lying on the ground! Men should be statues, or will be so, if they go through it. Hawke is enjoying himself in Quiberon Bay, but I believe has done no more execution. Dr. Hay says it will soon be as shameful to beat a Frenchman as to beat a woman. Indeed, one is forced to ask every morning what victory there is, for fear of missing one. We talk of a congress at Breda, and some think Lord Temple will go thither: if he does, I shall really believe it will be peace; and a good one, as it will then be of Mr. Pitt's making.

I was much pleased that the watch succeeded so triumphantly, and beat the French watches, though they were two to one. For the Fugitive pieces: the Inscription for the Column was written when I was with you at Florence, though I don't wonder that you have forgotten it after so many years. I would not have it talked of, for I

It was not Frederick's fault; he was not there; but that of General Finck, who had placed himself so injudiciously, that he was obliged to capitulate to the Austrians with fourteen thousand men.-D.

The Inscription for the neglected Column in St. Mark's Place at Florence.-E.

find some grave personages are offended with the liberties I have taken with so imperial a head. What could provoke them to give a column Christian burial? Adieu!

TO GEORGE MONTAGU, ESQ.

Strawberry Hill, Dec. 23, 1759.

How do you do? are you thawed again? how have you borne the country in this bitter weather? I have not been here these three weeks till to-day, and was delighted to find it so pleasant, and to meet a comfortable southeast wind, the fairest of all winds, in spite of the scandal that lies on the east; though it is the west that is parent of all ugliness. The frost was succeeded by such fogs, that I could not find my way out of London.

Has your brother told you of the violences in Ireland? There wanted nothing but a Massaniello to overturn the government; and luckily for the government and for Rigby, he, who was made for Massaniello, happened to be first minister there. Tumults, and insurrections, and oppositions,

Like arts and sciences, have travelled west.

Pray make the general collect authentic accounts of those civil wars against he returns-you know where they will find their place, and that you are one of the very few that will profit of them. I will grind and dispense to you all the corn you bring to my mill.

We good-humoured souls vote eight millions with as few questions, as if the whole House of Commons was at the club at Arthur's; and we live upon distant news, as if London was York or Bristol. There is nothing domestic, but that Lord George Lennox, being refused Lord Ancram's consent, set out for Edinburgh with Lady Louisa Kerr, the day before yesterday; and Lord Buckingham is going to be married to our Miss Pitt of Twickenham, daughter of that strange woman who had a mind to be my wife, and who sent Mr. Raftor to know why I did not marry her. I replied, "Because I was not sure that the two husbands, that she had at once, were both dead." Apropos to my wedding, Prince Edward asked me at the Opera, t'other night, when I was to marry Lady Mary Coke: I answered, as soon as I got a regiment; which, you know, is now the fashionable way.

The kingdom of beauty is in as great disorder as the kingdom of Ireland. My Lady Pembroke looks like a ghost-poor Lady Coventry is going to be one; and the Duchess of Hamilton is so altered I did not know her. Indeed, she is big with child, and so big, that as my Lady Northumberland says, it is plain she has a camel in her belly, and my Lord Edgecumbe says, it is as true it did not go through the eye of a needle. That Countess has been laid up with a hurt in her

leg; Lady Rebecca Paulett pushed her on the birthnight against a bench: the Duchess of Grafton asked if it was true that Laby Rebecca kicked her? "Kick me, Madam! when did you ever hear of a Percy that took a kick?" I can tell you another anecdote of that house, that will not divert you less. Lord March making them a visit this summer at Alnwick Castle, my lord received him at the gate, and said, "I believe, my lord, this is the first time that ever a Douglas and a Percy met here in friendship." Think of this from a Smithson to a true Douglas!

I don't trouble my head about any connexion; any news into the country I know is welcome, though it comes out higlepigledy, just as it happens to be packed up. The cry in Ireland has been against Lord Hilsborough, supposing him to mediate an union of the two islands; George Selwyn, seeing him set t'other night between my Lady Harrington and Lord Barrington, said, "Who can say that my Lord Hilsborough is not an enemy to an union?"

I will tell you one more story, and then good night. Lord Lyttelton was at Covent Garden; Beard came on: the former said, "How comes Beard here? what made him leave Drury Lane ?" Mr. Shelley, who sat next him, replied, "Why, don't you know he has been such a fool as to go and marry a Miss Rich? He has married Rich's daughter." My lord coloured; Shelley found out what he had said, and ran away.

I forgot to tell you, that you need be in no disturbance about Müntz's pictures; they were a present I made you. Good night!

SIR,

TO THE REV. HENRY ZOUCH.

Strawberry Hill, Dec. 23, 1759.

I own I am pleased, for your sake as well as my own, at hearing from you again. I felt sorry at thinking that you was displeased with the frankness and sincerity of my last. You have shown me that I made a wrong judgment of you, and I willingly correct it.

You are extremely obliging in giving yourself the least trouble to make collections for me. I have received so much assistance and information from you, that I am sure I cannot have a more useful friend. For the Catalogue, I forgot it, as in the course of things I suppose it is forgot. For the Lives of English Artists, I am going immediately to begin it, and shall then fling it into the treasury of the world, for the amusement of the world for a day, and then for the service of any body who shall happen hereafter to peep into the dusty drawer where it shall repose.

For my Lord Clarendon's new work, of which you ask me, I am

Lord Lyttelton married a daughter of Sir Robert Rich.

The Life of Edward Earl of Clarendon, &c. Dr. Johnson, in the sixty-fifth number

charmed with it. It entertains me more almost than any book I ever read. I was told there was little in it that had not already got abroad, or was not known by any other channels. If that is true, I own I am so scanty an historian as to have been ignorant of many of the facts; but sure, at least, the circumstances productive of, or concomitant on several of them, set them in very new lights. The deductions and stating of arguments are uncommonly fine. His language I find much censured-in truth, it is sometimes involved, particularly in the indistinct usage of he and him. But in my opinion his style is not so much inferior to the former History as it seems. But this I take to be the case; when the former part appeared, the world was not accustomed to a good style as it is now. I question if the History of the Rebellion had been published but this summer, whether it would be thought so fine in point of style as it has generally been reckoned. For his veracity, alas! I am sorry to say, there is more than one passage in the new work which puts one a little upon one's guard in lending him implicit credit. When he says that Charles I. and his Queen were a pattern of conjugal affection, it makes one stare. Charles was so, I verily believe; but can any man in his historical senses believe, that my Lord Clarendon did not know that, though the Queen was a pattern of affection, it was by no means of the conjugal kind. Then the subterfuges my Lord Clarendon uses to avoid avowing that Charles II. was a Papist, are certainly no grounds for corroborating his veracity. In short, I don't believe him when he does not speak truth; but he has spoken so much truth, that it is easy to see when he does not.

Lucan is in poor forwardness. I have been plagued with a succession of bad printers, and am not got beyond the fourth book. It will scarce appear before next winter. Adieu! Sir. I have received so much pleasure and benefit from your correspondence, that I should be sorry to lose it. I will not deserve to lose it, but endeavour to be, as you will give me leave to be, your, &c.

TO GEORGE MONTAGU, ESQ.

Arlington Street, Jan. 7, 1760.

You must not wonder I have not written to you a long time; a

of the Idler, has also celebrated the appearance of this interesting and valuable work.-C.

Mr. Walpole had early taken up this opinion; witness that gross line in his dull epistle to Aston, written in 1740, "The lustful Henrietta's Romish shade;" but we believe that no good authority for this imputation can be produced: there is strong evidence the other way and if we were even to stand on mere authority, we should prefer that of Lord Clarendon to the scandalous rumours of troublesome times, which were, we believe, the only guides of Mr. Walpole.-C.

b Nor for impugning it; for the very fact, brought to light in later times, of Charles's having, with great secrecy and mystery, reconciled himself to the church of Rome on his deathbed, proves that up to that extreme hour he was not a Papist.-C.

person of my consequence! I am now almost ready to say, We, instead of I. In short, I live amongst royalty-considering the plenty, that is no great wonder. All the world lives with them, and they with all the world. Princes and Princesses open shops in every corner of the town, and the whole town deals with them. As I have gone to one, I chose to frequent all, that I might not be particular, and seem to have views; and yet it went so much against me, that I came to town on purpose a month ago for the Duke's levee, and had engaged Brand to go with me-and then could not bring myself to it. At last, I went to him and the Princess Emily yesterday. It was well I had not flattered myself with being still in my bloom; I am grown so old since they saw me, that neither of them knew me. When they were told, he just spoke to me (I forgive him; he is not out of my debt, even with that): she was exceedingly gracious, and commended Strawberry to the skies. To-night, I was asked to their party at Norfolk House. These parties are wonderfully select and dignified: one might sooner be a knight of Malta than qualified for them; I don't know how the Duchess of Devonshire, Mr. Fox, and I, were forgiven some of our ancestors. There were two tables at loo, two at whist, and a quadrille. I was commanded to the Duke's loo; he was sat down: not to make him wait, I threw my hat upon the marble table, and broke four pieces off a great crystal chandelier. I stick to my etiquette, and treat them with great respect; not as I do my friend, the Duke of York. But don't let us talk any more of Princes. My Lucan appears to-morrow; I must say it is a noble volume. Shall I send it you-or won't you come and fetch it?

There is nothing new of public, but the violent commotions in Ireland, whither the Duke of Bedford still persists in going. Eolus to quell a storm!

I am in great concern for my old friend, poor Lady Harry Beauclerc; her lord dropped down dead two nights ago, as he was sitting with her and all their children. Admiral Boscawen is dead by this time. Mrs. Osborn and I are not much afflicted; Lady Jane Coke too is dead, exceedingly rich; I have not heard her will yet.

If you don't come to town soon, I give you warning, I will be a lord of the bedchamber, or a gentleman usher. If you will, I will

Walpole, in his Memoires, vol. ii. p. 401, gives a particular account of these commotions. Gray, in a letter to Dr. Wharton, of the 23d of January, says, "They placed an old woman on the throne, and called for pipes and tobacco; made my Lord Chief Justice administer an oath (which they dictated) to my Lord Chancellor; beat the Bishop of Killaloe black and blue; played at foot-ball with Chenevix, the old refugee Bishop of Waterford; rolled my Lord Farnham in the kennel; pulled Sir Thomas Prendergast by the nose (naturally large) till it was the size of a cauliflower; and would have hanged Rigby if he had not got out of a window. At last the guard was obliged to move (with orders not to fire), but the mob threw dirt at them. Then the horse broke in upon them, cutting and slashing, and took seventeen prisoners. The notion that had possessed the crowd that an union was to be voted between the two nations, and they should have no more parliaments there." Works, vol. iii. p. 233.-E.

was,

This distinguished admiral survived till January 1761.-E.

Daughter of Lord Torrington, and sister of the unfortunate Admiral Byng. She was married to the son of Sir John Osborn, of Chicksand Priory.-E.