“... I am sure you will be desirous to hear a true account of Lord Chatham’s accident in ye House, and of his present condition of health. The newspapers are in but little credit in general, but their account of that affair has been very exact. His lordship had been long confined by a fit of the gout, so was debilitated by illness and want of exercise. The House was invaded by numbers who went to hear him on so critical a state of affairs. The thunder of his eloquence was abated, and the lightning of his eyes was dimmed in a certain degree, when he rose to speak; but the glory of his former administration threw a mellow lustre around him, and his experience of publick affairs gave the force of an oracle to what he said, and a reverential silence reigned through the senate. He spoke in answer to the Duke of Richmond. The Duke of Richmond replied. Then his lordship rose up to speak again. The genius and spirit of Britain seemed to heave in his bosom, and he sank down speechless. He continued half an hour in a fit. His eldest and second sons and Lord Mahon were in great agony, waiting the doubtful event. At last, he happily recovered; and though he is very weak still, I am assured by his family, that he looks better than he did before this accident. The next day, Lord Shelburne and the Duke of Richmond carried on the same debate, and Lord Shelburne’s speech was much admired.
“... It is said my friend, Mr. Pulteney, has been twice at Paris, negotiating with Doctor Franklin; but the result is not known. Mrs. Pulteney was here last night, but I was too discreet even to mention the affair.
“... Montagu came home to-day. The school in a manner broke up yesterday, but as the weather is hot, the town sickly, and I was to have an assembly, I would not bring him home. He goes to Sandleford on Tuesday, and I am to follow him on Wednesday. The weather is inviting, and I hate this season of the year in London. If I am here, I am obliged often to have company, and my eating-room is not large enough nor high enough for large dinners and numerous guests.
“... Doctor Robinson, who call’d on me this morning, told me, a gentleman he met in Berkely Square just before, assured him the French had taken two of our armed ships. The doctor is an historian of great veracity, but in an affair of this kind, he could not examine the evidence.
“... Lord Kerry’s fine furniture sold very dear these bad times. I bought a large glass at the French ambassador’s sale, and some other things for my new house, pretty cheap. I suppose so great a sale just before made the second sale more reasonable.”
October 10, 1778. Mrs. Scott to Mrs. W. Robinson.—“... He” (Rev. Wm. Robinson, who had published a political pamphlet,) “has won the heart of the wax-worker, Mrs. Wright. Mr. Roweller went to see her performances, and, in conversation, asked her if she had seen the pamphlet. She told him she was charmed with it, had sent over a great number into her country, and assured him the author would be adored there; and desired, if he knew him, that he would tell him, that if he liked her or either of her daughters, they were entirely at his service. One of the girls cried out, ‘Lord, mamma, we never saw the gentleman. We may not like him!’ ‘I don’t care a farthing for that,’ replied Mrs. Wright; ‘if he likes you, you shall marry him!’”
Ladies of another quality come upon the stage in the following chapter.
CHAPTER X.
December 20, 1778. Mrs. Scott to Mrs. Robinson, Denton.—“... Miss Coke is a most extraordinary character, and, in my opinion, a most contemptible one, though I suppose she thinks herself a heroine. I have great compassion on one who blushes at her frailties, or rather her vices, for I hate those mincing names, designed only to palliate wrong actions; but I detest a woman who glories in her shame, and sets the world at defiance. Such desperate spirits should not be clad in feminine bodies. They are fit only for Sixteen-string Jack and his brother ruffians. Your daughter may in due time fall in love; nay, tho’ not very probable, she may even fall, in a stronger sense of the word; ... but I will venture to answer for her never being one of those intrepid damsels who brazen out their vices, and, without any change of countenance, raise blushes on the cheeks of all their sex. If she ever does ill, she will do it sneakingly; will feel the censure of others, and, suffering for her own, will rectify her errors. However, I am apt to believe she will escape clear of any of this nature.