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<h2> LETTER CCXCIV </h2>
<h3> BATH, December 9, 1766. </h3>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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!</p>
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<h2> LETTER CCXCV </h2>
<h3> LONDON, February 13, 1767. </h3>
<p>MY DEAR FRIEND: It is so long since I have had a letter from you, that I
am alarmed about your health; and fear that the southern parts of France
have not done so well by you as they did by me in the year 1741, when they
snatched me from the jaws of death. Let me know, upon the receipt of this
letter, how you are, and where you are.</p>
<p>I have no news to send you from hence; for everything seems suspended,
both in the court and in the parliament, till Lord Chatham's return from
the Bath, where he has been laid up this month, by a severe fit of the
gout; and, at present, he has the sole apparent power. In what little
business has hitherto been done in the House of Commons, Charles Townshend
has given himself more ministerial airs than Lord Chatham will, I believe,
approve of. However, since Lord Chatham has thought fit to withdraw
himself from that House, he cannot well do without Charles' abilities to
manage it as his deputy.</p>
<p>I do not send you an account of weddings, births, and burials, as I take
it for granted that you know them all from the English printed papers;
some of which, I presume, are sent after you. Your old acquaintance, Lord
Essex, is to be married this week to Harriet Bladen, who has L20,000 down,
besides the reasonable expectation of as much at the death of her father.
My kinsman, Lord Strathmore, is to be married in a fortnight, to Miss
Bowes, the greatest heiress perhaps in Europe. In short, the matrimonial
frenzy seems to rage at present, and is epidemical. The men marry for
money, and I believe you guess what the women marry for. God bless you,
and send you health!</p>
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