ſtrange and unaccountable conduct, rendered the beſt endeavours to ſerve him ineffectual. In a letter which that gentleman wrote to a friend in London, he concludes with a melancholy repreſentation of the duke’s preſent circumſtances;
‘However, notwithſtanding what I have ſuffered, and what my brother madman has done to undo himſelf, and every body who was ſo unlucky as to have the leaſt concern with him, I could not help being ſenſibly moved on ſo extraordinary a viciſſitude of fortune, to ſee a great man fallen from that ſhining light, in which I have beheld him in the houſe of lords, to ſuch a degree of obſcurity, that I have beheld the meaneſt commoner here decline his company; and the Jew he would ſometimes fatten on, grow tired of it, for you know he is a bad orator in his cups, and of late he has been ſeldom ſober. A week before he left Paris, he was ſo reduced, that he had not one ſingle crown at command, and was forced to thruſt in with any acquaintance for a lodging: Walſh and I have had him by turns, all to avoid a crowd of duns, which he had of all ſizes, from 1400 livres to 4, who hunted him ſo cloſe, that he was forced to retire to ſome of the neighbouring villages for ſafety. I, ſick as I was, hurried about Paris to get him money, and to St. Germains to get him linen. I bought him one ſhirt and a cravat, which, with 500 livres, his whole ſtock, he and his ducheſs, attended by one ſervant, ſet out for Spain. All the news I have heard of him ſince, is, that a day or two after he ſent for captain Brierly, and two or three of his domeſtics to follow him; but none but the captain obeyed the ſummons. Where they are now I cannot tell, but I fear they muſt be in great diſtreſs by this time, if he
