(559) As viceroy.

247 Letter 129
To Sir Horace Mann. 
Arlington Street, April 22, 1755.

My dear sir, Your brother and Mr. Chute have just left me in the design of writing to you; that is, I promised your brother I would, if I could make out a letter.  I have waited these ten days, expecting to be able to send you a war at least, if not an invasion.  For so long, we have been persuaded that an attempt would be made on Ireland; we have fetched almost all the troops from thence; and therefore we have just now ordered all the officers thither, and the new Lord Lieutenant is going to see if he has any government left:  the old Lord Lieutenant goes on Sunday to see whether he has any Electorate left.  Your brother says, he hears to-day that the French fleet are sailed for America:  I doubt it; and that the New-Englanders have been forming a secret expedition, and by this time have taken Cape Breton again, or something very considerable.  I remember when the former account came of that conquest, I was stopped in my chariot, and told, “Cape Breton is taken.”  I thought the person said “Great Britain is taken.”  “Oh!” said I, “I am not at all surprised at that; drive on, coachman.”  If you should hear that the Pretender and the Pretend@e have crossed over and figured in, shall you be much more surprised?

Mr. Chute and I have been motto-hunting(560) for you, but we have had no sport.  The sentence that puns the best upon your name, and suits the best with your nature, is too old, too common, and belongs already to the Talbots, Humani nihil alienum.  The motto that punning upon your name suits best with your public character, is the most heterogeneous to your private, Homo Homini Lupus—­forgive my puns, I hate them; but it shows how I have been puzzled, and how little I have succeeded.  If I could pity Stosch, it would be for the edict by which Richcourt incorporates his collection-but when he is too worthless to be pitied living, can one feel for a hardship that is not to happen to him till he is dead?  How ready 1 should be to quarrel with the Count for such a law, if I was driving to Louis,(561) at the Palazzo Vecchio!

Adieu! my dear child; I am sensible that this is a very scrap of a letter; but unless the Kings of England and France will take more care to supply our correspondence, and not be so dilatory, is it my fault that I am so concise?  Sure, if they knew how much postage they lost, by not supplying us with materials for letters, they would not mind flinging away eight or ten thousand men every fortnight.

(560) It was necessary for him to have a motto to his arms, as a baronet.

(561) Louis Siriez, a French goldsmith at Florence, who sold curiosities, and lodged in the old palace at Florence.

248 Letter 130 To Richard Bentley, Esq.  Arlington Street, April 24, 1755.