There is nothing new of public, but the violent commotions in Ireland,(15) whither the Duke of Bedford still persists in going. AEolus to quell a storm!
I am in great concern for my old friend, poor Lady Harry Beauclerc; her lord dropped down dead two nights ago, as he was sitting with her and all their children. Admiral Boscawen is dead by this time.(16) Mrs. Osborne and I are not much afflicted; Lady Jane Coke too is dead, exceedingly rich; I have not heard her will yet.
If you don’t come to town soon, I give you warning, I will be a lord of the bedchamber, or a gentleman usher. If you will, I will be nothing but what I have been so many years-my own and yours ever.
(15) Walpole, in his Memoires, vol. ii. p. 401, gives a particular account of these commotions. Gray, in a letter to Dr. Wharton, of the 23d of January, says, “They placed an old woman on the throne, and called for pipes and tobacco; made my Lord Chief Justice administer an oath (which they dictated) to my Lord Chancellor; beat the Bishop of Killaloe black and blue; at foot-ball with Chenevix, the old refugee Bishop of Waterford; rolled my Lord Farnham in the kennel; pulled Sir Thomas Prendergast by the nose (naturally large) till it was the size of a cauliflower-; and would have hanged Rigby if he had not got out of a window. At last the guard was obliged to move (with orders not to fire), but the mob threw dirt at them. then the horse broke in upon them, cutting and slashing, and took seventeen prisoners. The notion that had possessed the crowd was, that a union was to be voted between the two nations, and they should have no more parliaments there.” Works, vol. iii. p. 233.-E.
(16) This distinguished admiral survived till January 1761.-E.
(17) Daughter of lord Torrington, and sister of the unfortunate Admiral Byng. She was married to the son of sir John Osborn of Chicksand Priory.-E.
I am very sorry your ladyship could doubt a moment on the cause of my concern yesterday. I saw you much displeased at what I had said; and felt so innocent of the least intention of offending you, that I could not help being struck at my own ill-fortune, and wit[) the sensation raised by finding you mix great goodness with great severity.
I am naturally very impatient under praise; I have reflected enough on myself to know I don’t deserve it; and with this consciousness you ought to forgive me, Madam, if I dreaded that the person Whose esteem I valued the most in the world, should think, that I was fond of what I know is not my due. I meant to express this apprehension as respectfully as I could, but my words failed me-a misfortune not too common to me, who am apt to say too much, not too little! Perhaps it is that very quality which your ladyship calls wit, and I call tinsel, for which