nicated to me by the papers; and your letter of the 22nd of August, directed to me at York, travelled almost half the kingdom after me before it found me, only the last post-day, returned to my parsonage. This, I trust, you will think a sufficient excuse for so late an answer, and will account for a silence which would otherwise have been highly culpable.

I should expatiate much on the character of him who is now lost to us and our country, did I not firmly believe that the person whom he selected for one of his executors must have as true a sense, and even more experience, of his invaluable qualities than myself; suffice it for me to avow, that, as youth is the season of virtue, I never saw youth more replete with moral excellence than his exhibited. The remembrance he was pleased to honour me with in his last moments will make his end only with mine. Let me entreat you, Sir, when you can do it with propriety, to make my tenderest expressions of condolence acceptable to his too justly afflicted parent, and I hope this will find both you and him somewhat recovered from so severe a stroke.

I am, Sir, with most true respect, your much obliged and obedient servant,

W. MASON.

I profit very gladly of the liberty you have allowed me of writing to you, and of writing in that language in which I can most forcibly express the sentiments of affection and gratitude which I entertain for you and your family. The hours which I spent with them were by far the happiest that I passed in France; and though. my frequent visits to Passy must have shown that I thought them such, and have made this declaration unnecessary, yet I make it because I find a pleasure in doing so, and in transporting myself, though but in imagination, once again amongst you. If anything could be wanting to make me feel how much I lost in quitting Paris, it was our unpropitious journey. We had the misfortune to be kept six days by adverse winds at Boulogne; and, notwithstanding all the philosophy we could summon to our assistance, and a pretty large number of books with which we were provided, the contrast between our late residence at Paris, and our then condition, imprisoned in a miserable inn, and, to add to our mortification, with the coast of England full in our view, was too striking not to provoke very frequently our impatience. Our only resource was to talk of Paris and Passy, and in idea to live over again

1 These letters were written to a lady with whom and with whose family Mr. Romilly formed, during his stay at Paris, in 1781, a friendship which continued uninterrupted to the end of his life. * M. Dumont accompanied Mr. Romilly on this journey.

VOL. I.

S

the time which was passed. A few hours' more delay would have prevented the possibility of my arriving at Warwick in time for the sessions, and have totally disappointed the only object for which I was in so great a hurry to get from Paris. However, by travelling two nights, and not stopping in London even to unpack my trunks, I arrived time enough; and the only misfortune produced by this delay (but which, indeed, I feel as no small one) is, that I have been prevented delivering Miss D's letters till my return from Warwick.

With respect to public affairs, I interest myself so much in them, that I am as impatient to read the foreign gazettes as if the preservation of our liberties depended upon the recovery of those of France. I have found M. Seguier's speech (for which I return you many thanks) much more curious than edifying. What has most shocked me in it, even more than his legislative volonté du Roi, is the doctrine which he takes so much trouble to enforce, that les abus naissent du sein des innovations; because it appears to me to be a doctrine which is pernicious everywhere, but which in France is destructive not only of all public good, but even of every hope of good for the people to be happy and free would certainly be, in France, the greatest of all innovations.

Permit me, Madam, to beg that you would present my most affectionate compliments to all your family, to M. Guyot and to M. Gautier, to whom I hope to have the pleasure of writing by the next post. I have the honour to be, with the sincerest respect and affection, Madam, Yours, &c.

LETTER XLIX.

TO THE SAME.

SAML. ROMILLY.

Madam,

Miss D

London, Feb. 27, 1789.

does me great injustice in supposing

that the late situation of our affairs, or indeed any possible situation of them, could make me forget your family.

It has not been forgetfulness, but the fear of tiring you, which has prevented my writing sooner. Perhaps I may still have that to fear; but even at so great a risk, I cannot any longer delay telling you the pleasure I always feel in hearing from you.

Our situation in England begins to wear a very happy appearance. The King, if not quite recovered, is very nearly so. There will be no regency, and consequently no change of ministry. The joy which has taken place throughout the nation is very sincere and very general: it is not, however, universal. A number of persons had made themselves sure of coming into great and lucrative offices, and of long enjoying them: these have now waked from their dream of grandeur, and find themselves condemned still to toil on in an unsuccessful opposition.

in her judgment of the

I quite concur with Miss DKing of Prussia's letters. It is certain that the King everywhere gives his philosophical correspondents indirect lessons of toleration and forbearance. The historical parts of his works, though certainly not written in the proper style for history, are very instructive. The description he gives of his own desolated dominions at the end of that war of seven years in which he reaped so much glory, seems better calculated to inspire mankind with a detestation of war than any arguments or any elo

quence.

Gray's Letters I have never read since they were first published; but I remember at that time being very much delighted with them; and particularly with some frag ments of poems which are nearly equal to his finished performances. I cannot say that I am acquainted with the Abbé de Mably's Observations on the History of France, although I have bought them, for I have not yet had time to look into them. I entertain much more respect for the Abbé de Mably's memory on account of his private character than his literary talents. I have never much admired anything I have read of his, not even his famous Entretiens de Phocion. If this letter were by any accident to fall into M. Gautier's hands, I fear it would quite

ruin me in his good opinion. May I beg of you, Madam, when you see him, to assure him that however erroneous my judgment may be with respect to others, it is very just with respect to himself, and that I always entertain the warmest friendship for him.

But it is time for me to put an end to this letter; permit me to do it with the most earnest assurances of the respect and attachment with which I am, &c.

LETTER L.

TO THE SAME.

SAML. ROMILLY.

Abergavenny, April 18, 1789.

I write to you, Madam, from a place, the name of which is, I fancy, hardly known to you. It is a little town on the borders of Wales, which I have hurried to from the circuit in order to pass a week with my sister. She has lately come hither for the sake of her children's breathing the pure air which blows from the Welsh mountains, and enjoying the pleasures which this beautiful country affords. It is the most beautiful that I have seen in England, or anywhere else, except in Switzerland: indeed, it very much resembles some parts of Switzerland, but everything is on a smaller scale; the mountains are less high, the rocks less craggy, and the torrents less rapid. The valleys are perfectly Swiss, and are enchanting scattered over with villages and farm-houses, and portioned out into a multitude of small fields, they bespeak a happy equality of property, and transport one back in idea to the infancy of society. You will easily imagine that, at this time of the year, I cannot have seen this country to its greatest advantage. We have had a very long winter; it has quitted us little more than a week ago, and though the summer has burst upon us all at once, yet the trees are but just beginning to put out their leaves; and, though the outline of the landscape may be seen, all its colouring, except the rich verdure of the fields, is wanting. Butthe most beautiful objects in