STRAWBERRY HILL, _July_ 10, 1774.
The month is come round, and I have, besides, a letter of yours to
answer; and yet if I were not as regular as a husband or a merchant in
paying my just dues, I think I should not perform the function, for I
certainly have no natural call to it at present. Nothing in yours
requires a response, and I have nothing new to tell you. Yet, if one
once breaks in upon punctuality, adieu to it! I will not give out, after
a perseverance of three-and-thirty years; and so far I will not resemble
a husband.
The whole blood royal of France is recovered from the small-pox. Both
Choiseul and Broglie are recalled, and I have some idea that even the
old Parliament will be so. The King is adored, and a most beautiful
compliment has been paid to him: somebody wrote under the statue of
Henri Quatre, _Resurrexit_.[1]
[Footnote 1: "_Resurrexit._" A courtly picture-dealer, eager to make a
market of the new sovereign's popularity, devised even a neater
compliment to him, issuing a picture of the three sovereigns--Louis
XII., Henri IV., and the young king--with an explanation that 4 and 12
made 16.]
Lord Holland is at last dead, and Lady Holland is at the point of death.
His sons would still be in good circumstances, if they were not _his_
sons; but he had so totally spoiled the two eldest, that they would
think themselves bigots if they were to have common sense. The
prevailing style is not to reform, though Lord Lyttelton [the bad Lord]
pretends to have set the example. Gaming, for the last month, has
exceeded its own outdoings, though the town is very empty. It will be
quite so to-morrow, for Newmarket begins, or rather the youth adjourn
thither. After that they will have two or three months of repose; but if
they are not severely blooded and blistered, there will be no
alteration. Their pleasures are no more entertaining to others, than
delightful to themselves; one is tired of asking every day, who has won
or lost? and even the portentous sums they lose, cease to make
impression. One of them has committed a murder, and intends to repeat
it. He betted £1,500 that a man could live twelve hours under water;
hired a desperate fellow, sunk him in a ship, by way of experiment, and
both ship and man have not appeared since. Another man and ship are to
be tried for their lives, instead of Mr. Blake, the assassin.
Christina, Duchess of Kingston, is arrived, in a great fright, I
believe, for the Duke's nephews are going to prove her first marriage,
and hope to set the Will aside. It is a pity her friendship with the
Pope had not begun earlier; he might have given her a dispensation. If
she loses her cause, the best thing he can do will be to give her the
veil.
I am sorry all Europe will not furnish me with another paragraph. Africa
is, indeed, coming into fashion. There is just returned a Mr. Bruce,[1]
who has lived three years in the Court of Abyssinia, and breakfasted
every morning with the Maids of Honour on live oxen. Otaheite and Mr.
Banks are quite forgotten; but Mr. Blake, I suppose, will order a live
sheep for supper at Almack's, and ask whom he shall help to a piece of
the shoulder. Oh, yes; we shall have negro butchers, and French cooks
will be laid aside. My Lady Townshend [Harrison], after the Rebellion,
said, everybody was so bloodthirsty, that she did not dare to dine
abroad, for fear of meeting with a rebel-pie--now one shall be asked to
come and eat a bit of raw mutton. In truth, I do think we are ripe for
any extravagance. I am not wise enough to wish the world reasonable--I
only desire to have follies that are amusing, and am sorry Cervantes
laughed chivalry out of fashion. Adieu!
[Footnote 1: When Bruce's "Travels" were first published, his account of
the strange incidents which had occurred to him was very generally
disbelieved and ridiculed; "Baron Munchausen" was even written in
derision of them; but the discoveries of subsequent travellers have
confirmed his narrative in almost every respect.]
_DISCONTENT IN AMERICA--MR. GRENVILLE'S ACT FOR THE TRIAL OF ELECTION
PETITIONS--HIGHWAY ROBBERIES._