(580) Mr. West died in less than a month from the date of this letter, in the twenty-sixth year of his age. (see ant`e, p. 121, Letter 1.) In his last letter to Grey, written a few days before his death, he says, “I will take my leave of you for the present, with a vale et vive paulisper cum vivis:”  so little was he aware of the short time that he himself would be numbered among the living.  But this is almost constantly the case with those who die of that most flattering of all diseases, a consumption.  “Shall humanity,” says Mason, “be thankful or sorry that it is so?  Thankful, surely! for as this malady generally attacks the young and the innocent, it seems the merciful intention of Heaven, that to these death should come unperceived, and, as it were, by stealth; divested of one of its sharpest stings, the lingering expectation of their dissolution."-E.

252 Letter 66 To Sir Horace Mann.  Downing Street, May 6, 1742.

I have received a long letter from you of the 22d of April.  It amazes me! that our friends of Florence should not prove our friends.(581) Is it possible?  I have always talked of their cordiality, because I was convinced they could have no shadow of interest in their professions:—­of that, indeed, I am convinced still-but how could they fancy they had?  There is the wonder!  If they wanted common honesty, they seem to have wanted common sense more.  What hope of connexion could there ever be between the British ministry and the Florentine nobility!  The latter have no views for being, or knowledge for being envoys, etc.  They are too poor and proud to think of trading with us; too abject to hope for the restoration of their liberty from us-and, indeed, however we may affection our own, we have showed no regard for their liberty-they have had no reason ever to expect that from us!  In short, to me it is mystery!  But how could you not tell me some particulars?  Have I so little interested myself with Florence, that you should think I can be satisfied without knowing the least particulars?  I must know names.  Who are these wretches that I am to scratch out of my list?  I shall give them a black blot the moment I know who have behaved ill to you.  Is Casa Ferroni of the number?  I suspect it:-that was of your first attachments.  Are the prince and princess dirty?-the Suares?-tell me, tell me!  Indeed, my dear Mr. Chute, I am not of your opinion, that he should shut himself up and despise them; let him go abroad and despise them.  Must he mope because the Florentines are like the rest of the world?  But that is not true, for the world in England have not declared themselves so suddenly.  It has not been the fashion to desert the earl and his friends:  he has had more concourse, more professions, and has still, than in the height of his power.  So your neighbours have been too hasty:  they are new style, at least, eleven days before us.  Tell them, tell Richcourt, tell his Cleopatra,(582) that all their hopes are vanished, all their faith in Secret Committees-the reconciliation is made, and whatever reports their secretships may produce, there will be at least above a hundred votes added to our party.  Their triumph has been but in hope, and their hope has failed in two months.