ting? They can only add to this obligation that of provocation to print my letter, which, however strong in facts, I have taken care to make very decent in terms, because it imports us to have the candid (that is, I fear, the mercenary) on our side.—No, that we must not expect, but at least disarmed.

Lord Tavistock has flung his handkerchief to lady Elizabeth Keppel. They all go to Woburn on Thursday, and the ceremony is to be performed as soon as her brother, the bishop, can arrive from Exeter. I am heartily glad the duchess of Bedford does not set her heart on marrying me to any body; I am sure she would bring it about. She has some small intentions of coupling my niece and ***, but I have forbidden the banns.

The birth-day, I hear, was lamentably empty. We had a funereal loo last night in the great chamber at lady Bel. Finch's ; the Duke, princess Emily, and the duchess of Bedford were there. The princess entertained her grace with the joy the duke of Bedford will have in being a grandfather; in which reflection, I believe, the grandmotherhood was not forgotten. Adieu !

To GEORGE MONTAGU, Esq.

Strawberry-hill, June 18, 1764.

I TRUST that you have thought I was dead, it is so long since you heard of me. In truth, I had nothing to talk of but cold and hot weather, of rain and want of rain-subjects that have been our summer conversation for these twenty years. I am pleased that you was content with your pictures, and shall be glad if you have begotten ancestors out of them. You may tell your uncle Algernon that I go to-morrow where he would not be ashamed to see me; as there are not many such spots at present; you and he will guess it is to Park-place.

Strawberry, whose glories perhaps verge towards their setting, has been more sumptuous to-day than ordinary, and banquetted their representative majesties of France and Spain. I had

2 Sister of the earl of Albemarle. The marriage took place on the 7th June 1764. [Ed.]

monsieur and madame de Guerchy,'. mademoiselle. de Nangis their daughter, two other French gentlemen, the prince of Maserano, his brother and secretary, lord March, George Selwyn, Mrs. Ann Pitt, and my niece Waldegrave. The refectory never was so crowded; nor have any foreigners been here before that comprehended Strawberry. Indeed, every thing succeeded to a hair. A violent shower in the morning laid the dust, brightened the green, refreshed the roses, pinks, orangeflowers, and the blossoms, with which the acacias are covered. A rich storm of thunder and lightning gave a dignity of colouring to the heavens; and the sun appeared enough to illuminate the landscape, without basking himself over it at his length. During dinner, there were French-horns and clarionettes in the cloister, and after coffee I treated them with an English, and to them a very new collation, a syllabub milked under the cows that were brought to the brow of the terrace. Thence, they went to the printing-house, and saw a new fashionable French song printed. They drank tea in the gallery, and at eight went away to Vauxhall.

They really seemed quite pleased with the place and the day; but I must tell you, the treasury of the abbey will feel it, for without magnificence, all was handsomely done. I must keep maigre; at least till the interdict is taken off from my convent. I have kings and queens, I hear in my neighbourhood, but this is no royal foundation. Adieu!

Your poor beadsman,

THE ABBOT OF STRAWBERRY.

P.S. Mr. T * * *'s servile poem is rewarded with one hundred and sixty pounds a-year in the Post-office.

To GEORGE MONTAGU, Esq.

Strawberry-hill July, 16, 1764.

MR. CHUTE says you are peremptory that you will not cast a look southwards. Do you know that in that case you will not

1 The comte de Guerchy, who had arrived in the October preceding, as ambassador from the court of France. [Ed.]

set eyes on me the Lord knows when? My mind is pretty much fixed on going to Paris the beginning of September. I think I shall go, if it is only to scold my lord and lady Hertford for sending me their cousins, the duke and duchess of Berwick,1 who say they are come to see their relations. By their appearance, you would imagine they were come to beg money of their family. He has just the sort of capacity which you would expect in a Stuart engrafted on a Spaniard. He asked me which way he was to come to Twickenham? I told him through Kensington, to which I supposed his geography might reach. He replied, “Oh! du côté de la mer." She, who is sister of the duke of Aloa, is a decent kind of a body; but they talk wicked French. I gave them a dinner here t'other day, with the marquis of Jamaica, their only child, and a fat tutor, and the few Fitzroys I could amass at this season. They were very civil and seemed much pleased. To-day they are gone to Blenheim by invitation. I want to send you something from the Strawberry press; tell me how I shall convey it;-it is nothing less than the most curious book that ever set its foot into the world. I expect to hear you scream hither: if you don't I shall be disappointed, for I have kept it a most profound secret from you, till I was ready to surprise you with it; I knew your impatience, and would not let you have it piecemeal. It is the life of the great philosopher, lord Herbert, written by himself. Now are you disappointed? Well, read it-not the first forty pages, of which you will be sick-I will not anticipate it, but I will tell you the history. I found it a year ago at lady Hertford's, to whom lady Powis had lent it. I took it up, and soon threw it down again, as the dullest thing I ever saw. She persuaded me to take it home. My lady Waldegrave was here in all her grief; Gray and I read it to amuse her. We could not get on for laughing and screaming. I begged to have it to print; lord Powis, sensible of the extravagance, refused—I insisted—he persisted. I told my lady

1 The duke of Berwick was introduced at St. James's on the 5th July. [Ed.]

2 The life of lord Herbert, of Cherbury, written by himself. Strawberryhill, 4to, 1764. This was the first edition of this celebrated autobiography. It was reprinted at Edinburgh, in 1807, with a prefatory notice, said to be by sir Walter Scott, and an edition, which also contained his letters, written during his residence at the French court, was published in 1826. [Ed.]

Hertford, it was no matter, I would print it, I was determined. I sat down and wrote a flattering dedication to lord Powis, which I knew he would swallow: he did, and gave up his ancestor. But this was not enough; I was resolved the world should not think I admired it seriously, though there are really fine passages in it, and good sense, too; I drew up an equivocal preface, in which you will discover my opinion, and sent it with the dedication. The earl gulped down the one under the palliative of the other, and here you will have all. Pray take notice of the pedigree, of which I am exceedingly proud; observe how I have clearly arranged so involved a descent: one may boast of one's heraldry. I shall send you, too, lady Temple's poems.3 Pray keep both under lock and key, for there are but two hundred copies of lord Herbert, and but one hundred of the poems suffered to be printed.

I am almost crying to find the glorious morsel of summer that we have had, turned into just such a watery season as the last. Even my excess of verdure, which used to comfort me for every thing, does not satisfy me now, as I live entirely alone. I am heartily tired of my large neighbourhood, who do not furnish me two or three rational beings at most, and the best of them have no vivacity. London, whither I go at least once a fortnight for a night, is a perfect desert. As the court is gone into a convent at Richmond, the town is more abandoned than ever. I cannot, as you do, bring myself to be content without variety, without events: my mind is always wanting new food; summer does not suit me; but I will grow old some time or other. Adieu !

Yours ever.

DEAR SIR,

TO THE REV. MR. COLE.

Strawberry-hill, July 16, 1764.

You must think me a brute to have been so long without taking any notice of your obliging offer of coming hither. The truth is, I have not been at all settled here for three days toge

3 "Poems by Anna Chambers, countess Temple." Stawberry-hill, 1764, 4to. [Ed.]

ther: nay, nor do I know when I shall be. I go to-morrow into Sussex; in August into Yorkshire, and in September into France. If, in any interval of these jaunts, I can be sure of remaining here a week, which I literally have not been this whole summer, I will certainly let you know, and will claim your promise.

I

Another reason for my writing now, is, I want to know how may send you lord Herbert's Life, which I have just printed. Did I remember the favour you did me of asking for my own print? if I did not, it shall accompany this book. Adieu!

DEAR SIR,

TO THE REV. MR. COLE.

Arlington-street, July 21, 1764.

I must never send you trifles; for you always make me real presents in return. The beauty of the coin surprises me. Mr. White must be rich, when such are his duplicates. I am acquainted with him, and have often intended to visit his collection: but it is one of those things one never does, because one always may. I give you a thousand thanks in return, and what are not worth more, my own print, Lord Herbert's Life, (this is curious, though it cost me little) and some orangeflowers. I wish you had mentioned the latter sooner: I have had an amazing profusion this year, and given them away to the right and left by handfulls. These are all I could collect to-day, as I was coming to town; but you shall have more, if you want them.

I consign these things as you ordered: I wish the print may arrive without being rumpled; it is difficult to convey mezzotintos :-but if this is spoiled, you shall have another.

If I make any stay in France, which I do not think I shall, above six weeks at most, you shall certainly hear from me:— but I am a bad commissioner for searching you out a hermitage. It is too much against my interest: and I had much rather find you one in the neighbourhood of Strawberry. Adieu!

Dear sir, yours most sincerely.