At last I have seen le beau Gibberne:  I was extremely glad to see him, after I had done contemplating his person, which surely was never designed to figure in a romance.  I never saw a creature so grateful!  It is impossible not to be touched with the attachment he has for you.  He talks of returning; and, indeed, I would advise it for his sake:  he is quite spoiled for living in England, and had entirely forgot what Visigoths his countrymen are.  But I must drop him to thank you for the charming intaglio which you have stolen for me by his means:  it is admired as much as it deserves; but with me it has all the additional merit of coming from you.  Gibberne says you will be frightened at a lamentable history(84 that you will read of me in the newspapers; but pray don’t be frightened:  -the danger, great as it was, was over before I had any notion of it; and the hurt did not deserve mentioning.  The relation is so near the truth, that I need not repeat it; and, indeed, the frequent repetition has ’Been much worse than the robbery.  I have at last been relieved by the riots(85) at the new French theatre, and by Lord Coke’s lawsuit.(86) The first has been opened twice; the latter to-day.  The young men of fashion, who espouse the French players, have hitherto triumphed:  the old ladies, who countenance Lady Mary Coke, are likely to have their gray beards brought with sorrow to the grave.  It will ,be a new aera, (or, as my Lord Baltimore calls it, a new area,) in English history, to have the mob and the Scotch beat out of two points that they have endeavoured to make national.  I dare say the Chevalier Lorenzi will write ample accounts to Florence of these and all our English phenomena.  I think, if possible, we brutalize more and more:  the only difference is, that though every thing is anarchy, there seems to be less general party than ever.  The humours abound, but there wants some notable physician to bring them to a head.

The Parliament met yesterday:  we had opposition, but no division on the address.

Now the Barrets have left you, Mr. Chute and I will venture to open our minds to you a little; that is, to comfort you for the loss of your friends — we will abuse them—­that is enough in the way of the world.  Mr. Chute had no kind of acquaintance with Mr. Barret till just before he set out:  I, who have known him all my life, must tell you that all those nerves are imaginary, and that as long as there are distempers in the world, he will have one or two constantly upon his list.  I don’t know her; I never heard much of her understanding, but I had rather take your opinion; or at least, if I am not absolutely so complaisant, I will believe that you was determined to like them on Mr. Chute’s account.  I would not speak so plainly to you (and have not I been very severe?) if I were not sure that your good nature would not relax any offices of friendship to them.  You will scold me black and blue; but you know I always tell you when the goodness of your heart makes you borrow a little from that of other people to lend to their heads.  Good night!