white; lady Albemarle very genteel; nay, the middle age had some good representatives in lady Holderness, lady Rochford, and lady Strafford, the perfectest little figure of all. My lady Suffolk ordered her robes, and I dressed part of her head, as I made some of my lord Hertford's dress; for you know, no profession comes amiss to me, from the tribune of a people to a habit-maker. Don't imagine that there was not figures as excellent on the other side: old Exeter, who told the king he was the handsomest man she ever saw; old Effingham and a lady Say and Seale, with her hair powdered and her tresses black, were an excellent contrast to the handsome. Lord B * ** * put on rouge upon his wife and the duchess of Bedford in the painted chamber; the duchess of Queensbury told me of the latter, that she looked like an orange-peach, half red and half yellow. The coronets of the peers and their robes disguised them strangely; it required all the beauty of the dukes of Richmond and Marlborough to make them noticed. One there was, though of another species, the noblest figure I ever saw, the highconstable of Scotland, lord Errol; as one saw him in a space capable of containing him, one admired him. At the wedding, dressed in tissue, he looked like one of the giants in Guildhall, new gilt. It added to the energy of his person, that one considered him acting so considerable a part in that very hall, where so few years ago one saw his father, lord Kilmarnock, condemned to the block. The champion acted his part admirably, and dashed down his gauntlet with proud defiance. His associates, lord E****, lord Talbot, and the duke of Bedford, were woful; lord Talbot piqued himself on backing his horse down the hall, and not turning his rump towards the king, but he had taken such pains to dress it to that duty, that it entered backwards: and at his retreat the spectators clapped, a terrible indecorum, but suitable to such Bartholomew-fair doings. He had twenty demelés, and came out of none creditably. He had taken away the tables of the knights of the Bath, and was forced to admit two in their old place, and dine the others in the court of

1 James, lord Boyd, fourteenth earl of Errol, equally celebrated for his extraordinary stature and symmetry, as for his personal and mental accomplishments. [Ed.]

2 The earl of Effingham, whose place it was, as earl marshal, to accompany the champion. [Ed.]

requests. Sir William Stanhope said, "We are ill-treated. for some of us are gentlemen." Beckford told the earl, it was hard to refuse a table to the city of London, whom it would cost ten thousand pounds to banquet the king, and that his lordship would repent it, if they had not a table in the hall; they had. To the barons of the Cinque-ports, who made the same complaint, he said, "If you come to me as lord steward, I tell you, it is impossible; if, as lord Talbot, I am a match for any of you;" and then he said to lord Bute, "If I were a minister, thus I would talk to France, to Spain, to the Dutchnone of your half measures." This has brought me to a melancholy topic. Bussy goes to-morrow, a Spanish war is hanging in the air, destruction is taking a new lease of mankind-of the remnant of mankind.. I have no prospect of seeing Mr. Conway. Adieu; I will not disturb you with my forebodings. You I shall see again in spite of war, and I trust in spite of Ireland.

Yours ever.

I was much disappointed at not seeing your brother John: I kept a place for him to the last minute, but have heard nothing of him.

TO THE HON. H. S. CONWAY.

Arlington-street, Sept. 25, 1761.

THIS is the most unhappy day I have known of years: Bussy goes away! Mankind is again given up to the sword! Peace and you are far from England!

Strawberry-hill.

I was interrupted this morning, just as I had begun my letter, by lord Waldegrave; and then the duke of Devonshire sent for me to Burlington-house to meet the duchess of Bedford, and see the old pictures from Hardwicke. If my letter reaches you three days later, at least you are saved from a lamentation. Bussy has put off his journey to Monday (to be sure, you know this is Friday): he says this is a strange country, he can get no waggoner to carry his goods on a Sunday. I am glad a Spanish

2

war waits for a conveyance, and that a waggoner's veto is as good as a tribune's of Rome, and can stop Mr. Pitt on his career to Mexico. He was going post to conquer it—and Beckford, I suppose, would have had a contract for remitting all the gold, of which Mr. Pitt never thinks, unless to serve a city friend. It is serious that we have discussions with Spain, who says France is humbled enough, but must not be ruined: Spanish gold is actually coining in frontier towns of France; and the privilege which Biscay and two other provinces have of fishing on the coast of Newfoundland, has been demanded for all Spain. It was refused peremptorily; and Mr. secretary Cortez' insisted yesterday se'nnight on recalling lord Bristol. The rest of the council, who are content with the world they have to govern, without conquering others, prevailed to defer this impetuosity. However, if France or Spain are the least untractable, a war is inevitable: nay, if they don't submit by the first day of the session, I have no doubt but Mr. Pitt will declare it himself on the address. I have no opinion of Spain intending it: they give France money to protract a war, from which they reap such advantages in their peaceful capacity; and I should think would not give their money if they were on the point of having occasion for it themselves. In spite of you, and all the old barons our ancestors, I pray that we may have done with glory, and would willingly burn every Roman and Greek historian who have done nothing but transmit precedents for cutting throats.

The coronation is over: 'tis even a more gorgeous sight than I imagined. I saw the procession and the hall; but the return was in the dark. In the morning they had forgot the sword of state, the chairs for king and queen, and their canopies. They used the lord mayor's for the first, and made the last in the hall: so they did not set forth till noon; and then, by a childish compliment to the king, reserved the illumination of the hall till his entry, by which means they arrived like a funeral, nothing being discernible but the plumes of the knights of the Bath, which seemed the hearse. Lady Kildare, the duchess of Richmond, and lady Pembroke, were the capital beauties. Lady Harrington, the finest figure at a distance; old Westmoreland,

1 Mr. Pitt, then secretary of state. [Or.]

* The English ambassador at the court of Madrid. [Or.]

the most majestic. Lady Hertford could not walk, and indeed I think is in a way to give us great anxiety. She is going to Ragley to ride. Lord Beauchamp was one of the king's trainbearers. Of all the incidents of the day, the most diverting was, what happened to the queen. She had a retiring-chamber, with all conveniences, prepared behind the altar. She went thither, in the most convenient, what found she but-the duke of Newcastle! Lady Hardwicke died three days before the ceremony, which kept away the whole house of Yorke. Some of the peeresses were dressed over night, slept in arm-chairs, and were waked if they tumbled their heads. Your sister Harris's maid, lady Peterborough, was a comely figure. My lady Cowper refused, but was forced to walk with lady M***. Lady Falmouth3 was not there; on which George Selwyn said, "That those peeresses who were most used to walk, did not." I carried my lady Townshend, lady Hertford, lady Anne Connolly, my lady Harvey, and Mrs. Clive, to my deputy's house at the gate of Westminster-hall. My lady Townshend said she should be very glad to see a coronation, as she never had seen "Why," said I, "madam, you walked at the last?" Yes, child," said she, " but I saw nothing of it: I only looked to see who looked at me." The duchess of Queensbury walked! her affectation that day was to do nothing preposterous. The queen has been at the opera, and says she will go once a-week.

one.

This is a fresh disaster to our box, where we have lived so harmoniously for three years. We can get no alternative but that over miss Chudleigh's; and lord Strafford and lady Mary Coke will not subscribe, unless we can. The duke of Devonshire and I are negotiating with all our art to keep our party together. The crowds at the opera and play when the king and queen go, are a little greater than what I remember. The late royalties went to the Haymarket, when it was the fashion to frequent the other opera in Lincoln's-inn-fields. Lord Chesterfield one night came into the latter, and was asked, if he had been at the other house? "Yes," said he, "but there was nobody but the king and queen; and as I thought they might be talking business, I came away."

3 Hannah Catherine Maria, daughter of Thomas Smith of Worplesdon, county of Surrey, esq., and widow of Richard Russell, esq. [Ed.]

Thank you for your journals: the best route you can send me would be of your journey homewards. Adieu! Yours most sincerely.

P.S. If you ever hear from, or write to, such a person as lady Ailesbury, pray tell her she is worse to me in point of correspondence than ever you said I was to you, and that she sends me every thing but letters.

To THE COUNTESS OF AILESBURY.

Strawberry-hill, September 27, 1761.

You are a mean mercenary woman. If you did not want histories of weddings and coronations, and had not jobs to be executed about muslins and a bit of china and counterband

goods, one should never hear of you. When you don't want a body, you can frisk about with Greffiers and Burgomasters, and be as merry in a dyke as my lady Frog herself. The moment your curiosity is agog, or your cambric seized, you recollect a good cousin in England, and, as folks said two hundred years ago, begin to write upon the knees of your heart. Well! I am a sweet-tempered creature, I forgive you. I have already writ to a little friend in the custom-house, and will try what can be done; though, by Mr. Amyand's report to the duchess of Richmond, I fear your case is desperate. For the genealogies, I have turned over all my books to no purpose; I can meet with no lady Howard who married a Carey, nor a lady Seymour that married a Caufield. Lettice Caufield, who married Francis Staunton, was daughter of Dr. James (not George) Caufield, younger brother of the first lord Charlemont. This is all I can ascertain. For the other pedigree; I can inform your friend there was a sir Nicholas Throckmorton, who married an Anne Carew, daughter of sir Nicholas Carew, knight of the garter, not Carey.-But this Sir Nicholas Carew married Joan Courtney-not a Howard: and besides, the Careys and Throckmortons you wot of were just the reverse: your Carey was the cock, and Throckmorton the hen-mine are vice versa :otherwise, let me tell your friend, Carews and Courtneys are