BATH, December 9, 1766.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received, two days ago, your letter of the 26th past. I
am very glad that you begin to feel the good effects of the climate where
you are; I know it saved my life, in 1741, when both the skillful and the
unskillful gave me over. In that ramble I stayed three or four days at
Nimes, where there are more remains of antiquity, I believe, than in any
town in Europe, Italy excepted. What is falsely called ‘la maison
quarree’, is, in my mind, the finest piece of architecture that I ever
saw; and the amphitheater the clumsiest and the ugliest: if it were in
England, everybody would swear it had been built by Sir John Vanbrugh.
This place is now, just what you have seen it formerly; here is a great
crowd of trifling and unknown people, whom I seldom frequent, in the
public rooms; so that I may pass my time ‘tres uniment’, in taking the
air in my post-chaise every morning, and in reading of evenings. And ‘a
propos’ of the latter, I shall point out a book, which I believe will
give you some pleasure; at least it gave me a great deal. I never read it
before. It is ‘Reflexions sur la Poesie et la Peinture, par l’Abbee de
Bos’, in two octavo volumes; and is, I suppose, to be had at every great
town in France. The criticisms and the reflections are just and lively.
It may be you expect some political news from me: but I can tell you that
you will have none, for no mortal can comprehend the present state of
affairs. Eight or nine people of some consequence have resigned their
employments; upon which Lord C-----made overtures to the Duke of
B-----and his people; but they could by no means agree, and his Grace
went, the next day, full of wrath, to Woburn, so that negotiation is
entirely at an end. People wait to see who Lord C-----will take in, for
some he must have; even HE cannot be alone, ‘contra mundum’. Such a state
of affairs, to be sure, was never seen before, in this or in any other
country. When this Ministry shall be settled, it will be the sixth
Ministry in six years’ time.
Poor Harte is here, and in a most miserable condition; those who wish him
the best, as I do, must wish him dead. God bless you!