ARLINGTON STREET, _Jan._ 31, 1769.
The affair of Wilkes is rather undecided yet, than in suspense.[1] It
has been a fair trial between faction and corruption; of two such common
creatures, the richest will carry it.
[Footnote 1: Wilkes had been elected a member of the Common Council.]
The Court of Aldermen set aside the election of Wilkes on some
informality, but he was immediately re-chosen. This happened on Friday
last, the very day of his appearance at the House of Commons. He went
thither without the least disturbance or mob, having dispersed his
orders accordingly, which are obeyed implicitly. He did not, however,
appear at the bar till ten at night, the day being wasted in debating
whether he should be suffered to enter on his case at large, or be
restrained to his two chief complaints. The latter was carried by 270
to 131, a majority that he will not easily reduce. He was then called
in, looked ill, but behaved decently, and demanded to take the oaths and
his seat. This affair, after a short debate, was refused; and his
counsel being told the restrictions imposed, the House adjourned at
midnight. To-day he goes again to the House, but whatever steps he takes
there, or however long debates he may occasion, you may look upon his
fate as decided in that place.
We are in hourly expectation of hearing that a nymph, more common still
than the two I have mentioned, has occasioned what Wilkes has failed in
now, a change in an administration. I mean the Comtesse du Barri.[1] The
_grands habits_ are made, and nothing wanting for her presentation
but--what do you think? some woman of quality to present her. In that
servile Court and country, the nobility have had spirit enough to
decline paying their court, though the King has stooped _à des
bassesses_ to obtain it. The Duc de Choiseul will be the victim; and
they pretend to say that he has declared he will resign _à l'Anglaise_,
rather than be _chassé_ by such a creature. His indiscretion is
astonishing: he has said at his own table, and she has been told so,
"Madame du Barri est très mal informée; on ne parle pas des Catins chez
moi." Catin diverts herself and King Solomon the wise with tossing
oranges into the air after supper, and crying, "_Saute, Choiseul! saute,
Praslin_!" and then Solomon laughs heartily. Sometimes she flings powder
in his sage face, and calls him _Jean Farine_! Well! we are not the
foolishest nation in Europe yet! It is supposed that the Duc d'Aiguillon
will be the successor.
[Footnote 1: This woman, one of the very lowest of the low, had caught
the fancy of Louis XV.; and, as according to the curious etiquette of
the French Court, it was indispensable that a king's mistress should be
married, the Comte du Barri, a noble of old family, but ruined by
gambling, was induced to marry her.]
I am going to send away this letter, because you will be impatient, and
the House will not rise probably till long after the post is gone out. I
did not think last May that you would hear this February that there was
an end of mobs, that Wilkes was expelled, and the colonies quieted.
However, pray take notice that I do not stir a foot out of the province
of gazetteer into that of prophet. I protest, I know no more than a
prophet what is to come. Adieu!
_A GARDEN PARTY AT STRAWBERRY--A RIDOTTO AT VAUXHALL._