and fifty miles round, and have a very light pair of fetters, contrived to ride or dance in, and see Versailles, and every place else, except St. Germain[1]. I hear the ladies call you already nôtre prisonnier Hunter, le plus honnête garçon du monde. Will you French yet own us Britons to be a brave people? Will they allow the duke of Marlborough to be a great general? Or., are they all as partial as their gazetteers? Have you yet met any French colonel whom you remember to have formerly knocked from his horse, or shivered at least a lance against his breastplate? Do you know the wounds you have given, when you see the scars? Do you salute your old enemies with — Stetimus tela aspera contra, Contulimusque manus. Vous savez que — Monsieur d' Addison, nôtre bon ami, est fait secrétaire d'état d' Irlande; and unless you make haste over, and get my Virginian bishoprick, he will persuade me to go with him, for the Vienna project is off; which is a great disappointment to the design I had of displaying my politicks at the emperor's court. I do not like the subject you have assigned me to entertain you with. Crouder is sick, to the comfort of all quiet people, and Fraud is rêveur à Peindre. Mr. Addison and I often drink your health, and this day I did it with Will Pate[2], a certain adorer of yours, who is both a bel esprit and a woollen draper. The whigs carry all before them, and how far they will pursue their victories, we underrate whigs can hardly tell. I have not yet observed the tories noses; their number is
- ↑ Then the palace of the queen dowager of James II, and the pretender.
- ↑ See Journal to Stella, Sept. 17, Oct. 6, 1710.
