(720) Lady Yarmouth.

289 Letter 86
                                        To Sir Horace Mann. 
Houghton, Oct. 18, 1742.

I have received two letters from you since last post; I suppose the wind stopped the packet-boat.

Well! was not I in the right to persist in buying the Dominichin? don’t you laugh at those wise connoisseurs, who pronounced it a copy?  If it is one, where is the original? or who was that so great master that could equal Dominichin?  Your brother has received the money for it, and Lord Orford is in great impatience for it; yet he begs, if you can find any opportunity, that it may be sent in a man-of-war.  I must desire that the statue may be sent to Leghorn, to be shipped with it, and that you will get Campagni and Libri to transact the payment as they did for the picture, and I will pay your brother.

Villettes’ important despatches to you are as ridiculous as good Mr. Matthews’s devotion. — I fancy Mr. Matthews’s own god (722) would make as foolish a figure about a monkey’s neck, as a Roman Catholic one.  You know, Sir Francis Dashwood used to say that Lord Shrewsbury’s providence was an old angry man in a blue cloak:  another person-that I knew, believed providence was like a mouse, because he is invisible.  I dare to say Matthews believes, that providence lives upon beef and pudding, loves prize-fighting and bull-baiting, and drinks fog to the health of Old England.

I go to London in a week, and then will send you cart-loads of news:  I know none now, but that we hear to-day of the arrival of Duc d’Aremberg-I suppose to return my Lord Carteret’s visit.  The latter was near being lost; he told the King that being in a storm, he had thought it safest to put into Yarmouth roads, at which he laughed, hoh! hoh! hoh!

For want of news, I live upon ballads to you; here is one that has made a vast noise, and by Lord Hervey’s taking great pains to disperse it, has been thought his own-if it is,(723) he has taken true care to disguise the niceness of his style.

1.  O England, attend. while thy fate I deplore, Rehearsing the schemes and the conduct of power.  And since only of those who have power I sing, I am sure none can think that I hint at the King.

2.  From the time his son made him old Robin depose, All the power of a King he was well-known to lose; But of all but the name and the badges bereft, Like old women, his paraphernalia are left.

3.  To tell how he shook in St. James’s for fear, When first these new Ministers bullied him there, Makes my blood boil with rage, to think what a thing They have made of a man We ’obey as a King.

4.  Whom they pleas’d they put in, whom they pleas’d they put out, And just like a top they all lash’d him about, Whilst he like a top with a murmuring noise, Seem’d to grumble, but turn’d to these rude lashing boys.

5.  At last Carteret arriving, spoke thus to his grief, If you’ll make me your Doctor, I’ll bring you relief; You see to your closet familiar I come, And seem like my wife in the circle-at home.”