You perceive by my date that I am removed into my new house. It is seeming to take a new lease of life. I was born in Arlington Street, lived there about fourteen years, returned thither, and passed thirty-seven more; but I have sober monitors that warn me not to delude myself.

My four nieces are at Nuneham. I saw Mrs. Harcourt on Tuesday at Sion Hill, come up to kiss hands for General Burgoyne's regiment; no doubt to the great joy of Bishop Butler. What charming children the little Carmarthens are!

I shall return to Strawberry on Monday for about a week, and then be chiefly in London. You will not tell me your own intended motions, and therefore I shall leave you to your own vagaries.

I heard t'other day of the World as it Goes,' a poem published last spring, but which I had never seen. It is by that infamous Combe, the author of the Diaboliad.' It has many easy poetic lines, imitates Churchill, and is full as incoherent and absurd in its plan as the worst of the latter's. I do not wonder that it made no noise. Adieu! I send no compliments to your Anthems, for I am not in charity with them.'

1

TO THE HON. HORACE WALPOLE.

DEAR SIR,

York, Nov. 12, 1779.

As I could not precisely tell you how I was to regulate my motions after the end of my Residence which concluded yesterday, I deferred writing till the present month, when I have to tell you that my motions will be no motions for three months to come; as the Dean and Chapter have allowed me to take another residence immediately, by which means I save the expense and trouble of removing my family, and lay up for myself a year and three quarters of liberty-a great sum you will say of such a commodity, which is at least equivalent to what the whole nation may promise itself the enjoyment of. However this be, I shall hope that while I remain in durance you will relieve and console me with your letters, which though I do not expect that the events which they relate will be of a comfortable cast, yet still they will be my very best amusement.

My Lord Carmarthen called upon me the other day in his return from the East Riding of this great county, where he had reviewed the whole coast, and found it so totally defenceless, that he had given a ball at Beverley on the occasion; he had withal added twenty men to the militia, and by the addition of two captains, had metamorphosed a paltry battalion into a complete regiment;-a very great military manoeuvre, and which I doubt not will be attended with the most salutary consequences to this part of the island, especially as the corps with which they are to be embodied is at Coxheath. From York he retired to Kiveton, where, if he pleases, he may make another ball, and invite Lady Conyers to it, who I don't doubt will be pleased with such a fête; for you must know, at Lady Holdernesse's request, I have lent her my parsonage to reside in, while Mr. Byron is raising recruits at Sheffield

2

Captain Byron, the father of the great poet. He ran away with Amelia D'Arcy, Marchioness of Carmarthen (Lady Conyers in her own right), and afterwards married her. She died 26 January, 1784, and by Captain Byron was the mother of the Honourable Augusta Leigh-the poet's sister.-CUNNINGHAM.

1856. TO THE COUNTESS OF OSSORY.

Strawberry Hill, Oct. 27, 1779.

I AM fortunate, Madam, that you have had a parenthesis of Bedfordshire neighbours between fixed air, electricity, solar microscopes, and every topic in and out of creation; and my barren narrow conversation, which is confined to few ideas and less knowledge than any man's who has lived so long, had opportunities of seeing so much, and yet has stored but up a heap of indigested trifles, and fathomed no earthly thing to the bottom, nor any heavenly one to the top-which, in truth, I believe, can be done a very little way: however, I honour natural philosophers in every one of their walks. They aim at enlightening mankind; most other professions at deceiving.

I have always heard that Bowood was magnificent: you will not wonder that accounts of noble palaces raise a sigh in my breast, not of envy, but remembrance !-but, alas! what will all our seats be but monuments of past splendour? As I should not like to die in an unfinished moment, though perhaps preferable to the catastrophe, I wish for peace, to know what is to be left. I doubt many turbulent scenes are to pass first; and, though one expected them much sooner, it is plain that causes have at last their effects; and, though one is often disappointed in the calculations of wisdom, folly and presumption produce their natural consequences. These multiply daily; and, being so numerous and so repugnant to each other, the medicines that would, as in bodily distempers, cure some, are

and Rotherham. This was by no means a pleasant sacrifice to make on my part, but I fancy you will think with me, that, as Lady Holdernesse asked it, I could not decently refuse.

I am at present revising and correcting a verse translation of Fresnoy's Art of Painting,' which I began when I was a boy at the University and have since, at intervals of five and sometimes ten years, proceeded upon. I believe I shall now complete it, and I fancy you will like it as well as a thing so very didactic will be capable of being liked. I forget whether I ever showed you any part of it; if not, pray do not set your stomach against it, for one day or other you must swallow the whole dose. I congratulate you on your removal to Berkeley Square. May you enjoy the comforts of your new situation as long as the Phidian work,' which is placed in the centre of that square, continues to be its chief ornament. This is a new prayer of my own, which Isoffer up even with more zeal than I do that which the wisdom of the legislature has lately tagged to that about wars and tumults.

Amen.

'An equestrian statue of George III. by Wilton, long since removed.— CUNNINGHAM.

prejudicial to others. For instance, can your Ireland be redressed, without danger of producing insurrections here? Can the two islands jar, and not facilitate the views of France and Spain? I have reason to believe that the combined fleets will again appear before the conclusion of the campaign, though the Government thinks not. They still talk at Paris of invasion; and, having threatened it so often vainly, may have rendered it more facile by our incredulity. But what signify conjectures? As Cato says, Plato cannot end them, and the sword must.

My constitution, which set out under happy stars, seems to keep pace with the change of constellations, and fail like the various members of the empire. I am now confined with the rheumatism in my left arm, and find no benefit from our woollen manufacture, which I flattered myself would always be a resource. On Monday I shall remove to Shelburne Square, and watch impatiently the opening of the Countess's windows; though with all her and her Earl's goodness to me, I doubt I shall profit little of either. I do not love to be laughed at or pitied, and dread exposing myself to numbers of strange servants and young people, who wonder what Methuselah does out of his coffin. Lady Blandford is gone;' her antediluvian dowagers dispersed; amongst whom I was still reckoned a lively young creature. Wisdom I left forty years ago to Welbore Ellis, and must not pretend to rival him now when he is grown so rich by the semblance of it. Since I cannot then act old age with dignity, I must keep myself out of the way, and weep for England in a corner.

I am glad the appearances in Miss Fox are better. The elder Lady Albemarle has had a stroke of palsy, but is better. Lady Sarah came to town with her, and still looks prettier and fresher than an angel of Correggio.

Whither are your next motions, Madam? You lately talked of not seeing London until the roses appear. That is a little perverse, and very uncomfortable to me, since, seldom dining abroad, I should be happy to sit by your fire in the long evenings; but you scarce arrive till the tourbillon of Ranelagh surrounds you. Well! I must have done with wishes, which are foolish but in youth, when time may accomplish them.

1 Maria Catherine De Jonge, a Dutch lady, was first the widow of the Marquis of Blandford, who died in 1731, and then in 1740, the widow of the celebrated Sir William Wyndham. See vol. iv. p. 271.-CUNNINGHAM.

1857. TO SIR HORACE MANN.

Strawberry Hill, Oct. 31, 1779.

YOUR last letter was so full of encomiums on my Tragedy, that, veteran author as I am, it made me blush. But I recollected your partiality, and then I accepted the motive with pleasure, though I must decline the exaggerations. It is plain that I am sincerely modest about it, for I not only never thought of its appearing on the stage, but have not published it. It has indeed received greater honour than any of its superiors; for Lady Di. Beauclerk has drawn seven scenes of it, that would be fully worthy of the best of Shakespeare's plays-such drawings, that Salvator Rosa and Guido could not surpass their expression and beauty. I have built a Closet on purpose for them here at Strawberry Hill. It is called the Beauclerk Closet; and whoever sees the drawings, allows that no description comes up to their merit-and then, they do not shock and disgust, like their original, the tragedy.

I am heartily glad you have had your nephew; I speak in the past tense, for he will certainly be set out on his return before this can reach Florence. It was uncommon merit to take so long a journey for a moment. I have sent you one to replace him, not to compensate; for a stranger cannot rival or equal your nephew: but one who, as soon as you are acquainted with him, will be a great comfort to you, from his virtues, sense, and manners. It is a young Mr. Windham, a gentleman of Norfolk, of a very considerable estate, who is in a bad state of health, and travels for it. I am not so much acquainted with him as with his character, which is excellent; and then he is a Whig of the stamp that was current in our country in my father's time. I do not always send you a tally to the letters of recommendation I am sometimes forced to give; but that which he carries to you, I confirm by this in all points. I advise you to be intimate with him; I will warrant the safety of his connection, and I beg you to assist him with recommendations wherever you can. He is a particular friend of my great-nephew, Lord Cholmondeley's cousin; but one I should have liked for my own friend, if the disparity of our ages would have allowed it; or if it were a time for me to make friends, when I could only leave them behind me.

Well; but you had rather I had been talking politics, or telling you news. The scene is not mended, for another is opened. Ireland,

taking advantage of the moment, and of forty thousand volunteers that they have in arms and regimented, has desired-that is, demanded-free trade. If we are not cured of our American visions at last, I hope we have learnt wisdom enough to perceive that prerogative is the weakest of all chimeras when opposed by free men in arms it has cost us the diadem of the Colonies, as it did James II. those of three kingdoms; and therefore I trust we shall have more sense in Ireland. We still kick at the independence of America, though we might as well pursue our title to the crown of France.

Our fleet is at sea, and a most noble one. They still talk of the re-appearance of the combined fleets from Brest. It is probable that the winds of November will be the most considerable victors; for the season has been so very serene in general, that I think the equinoctial tempests, like the squadrons, have passed the autumn in harbour, and that they will all come forth together.

Lord Stormont has got the late Lord Suffolk's seals of Secretary. There were to have been other arrangements, but they are suspended; and it is said this new preferment is more likely to produce resignations than settlement: but I only tell you common report; which is not at all favourable to Lord Stormont's promotion. He has a fair character, and is a friend of General Conway; but he is a Scot, and Lord Mansfield's nephew, which the people mind much more than his character: the other advantage they will certainly pay no regard to at all. It is great pity unpopular things are done at such a moment!

Well! I trust I shall see General Conway within a week; I go to town to-morrow, expecting him. He has acted in his diminutive islet with as much virtue and popularity as Cicero in his large Sicily, and with much more ability as a soldier, and a commanderI am heartily glad he was disappointed of showing how infinitely more he is a hero.-The conclusion of my letter on Tuesday from London.

Nov. 1, Berkeley Square.

My letter is concluded, for I have nothing to add, but that the town says Lord Gower, President of the Council, will resign. Mind, I do not warrant this, nor anything that is not actually past.