A journey to Paris Sounds youthful and healthy. I have certainly mended much this last week, though with no pretensions to a recovery of youth. Half the view of my journey is to re-establish my health—the other half, to wash my hands of politics, which I have long determined to do whenever a change should happen. I would not abandon my friends while they were martyrs; but, now they have gained their crown of glory, they are well able to shift for themselves; and it was no part of my compact to go to that heaven, St. James’s, with them. Unless I dislike Paris very much, I shall stay some time; but I make no declarations, lest I should be soon tired of it, and coming back again. At first, I must like it, for Lady Mary Coke will be there, as if by assignation. The Countesses of Carlisle and Berkeley, too, I hear, will set up their staves there for some time; but as my heart is faithful to Lady Mary, they would not charm me if they were forty times more Disposed to it.
The Emperor’ is dead,(858)—but so are all the Maximilians and Leopolds his predecessors, and with no more influence on the present state of things. The EmpressQueen will still be master-Dowager unless she marries an Irishman, as I wish with all my soul she may.
The Duke and Duchess of Richmond will follow me in about a fortnight: Lord and Lady George Lennox go with them; and Sir Charles Banbury and Lady Sarah are to be at Paris, too, for some time: so the English court there will be very juvenile and blooming. This set is rather younger than the dowagers with whom I pass so much of my summers and autumns; but this is to be my last sally into the world and when I return, I intend to be as sober as my cat, and purr quietly in my own chimney corner.
Adieu, my dear lord! May every happiness attend you both, and may I pass some agreeable days next summer with you at Wentworth Castle!
(858) Francis the First, Emperor of Germany, died at Inspruck, on Sunday the 18th of August. He was in good health the greater part of the day, and assisted at divine service; but, between nine and ten in the evening, he was attacked by a fit of apoplexy, and expired in a few minutes afterwards in the arms of his son, the King of the Romans.-E.
The trouble your ladyship has given yourself so immediately, makes me, as I always am, ashamed of putting you to any. There is no persuading you to oblige moderately. Do you know, Madam, that I shall tremble to deliver the letters you have been so good as to send me? If you have said half so much of me, as you are, so partial as to think of me, I shall be undone. Limited as I know myself, and hampered in bad French, how shall I keep up to any character at all? Madame d’Aiguillon and Madame Geoffrin will never believe that I am the true messenger, but will