Letters to His Son 1766-71 | Page 9

of the cutaneous vessels; and he must apply
strengtheners instead of emollients. Accordingly, he ordered me to put
my legs up to the knees every morning in brine from the salters, as hot
as I could bear it; the brine must have had meat salted in it. I did so;
and after having thus pickled my legs for about three weeks, the
complaint absolutely ceased, and I have never had the least swelling in
them since. After what I have said, I must caution you not to use the
same remedy rashly, and without the most skillful advice you can find,
where you are; for if your swelling proceeds from a gouty, or rheumatic
humor, there may be great danger in applying so powerful an astringent,
and perhaps REPELLANT as brine. So go piano, and not without the
best advice, upon a view of the parts.
I shall direct all my letters to you 'Chez Monsieur Sarraxin', who by his
trade is, I suppose, 'sedentaire' at Basle, while it is not sure that you will
be at any one place in the south of France. Do you know that he is a
descendant of the French poet Sarrazin?
Poor Harte, whom I frequently go to see here, out of compassion, is in
a most miserable way; he has had a stroke of the palsy, which has
deprived him of the use of his right leg, affected his speech a good deal,
and perhaps his head a little. Such are the intermediate tributes that we
are forced to pay, in some shape or other, to our wretched nature, till
we pay the last great one of all. May you pay this very late, and as few
intermediate tributes as possible; and so 'jubeo te bene valere'. God
bless you!

LETTER CCXCIV
BATH, December 9, 1766.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received, two days ago, your letter of the 26th
past. I am very glad that you begin to feel the good effects of the
climate where you are; I know it saved my life, in 1741, when both the
skillful and the unskillful gave me over. In that ramble I stayed three or
four days at Nimes, where there are more remains of antiquity, I
believe, than in any town in Europe, Italy excepted. What is falsely
called 'la maison quarree', is, in my mind, the finest piece of
architecture that I ever saw; and the amphitheater the clumsiest and the
ugliest: if it were in England, everybody would swear it had been built
by Sir John Vanbrugh.
This place is now, just what you have seen it formerly; here is a great
crowd of trifling and unknown people, whom I seldom frequent, in the
public rooms; so that I may pass my time 'tres uniment', in taking the
air in my post-chaise every morning, and in reading of evenings. And 'a
propos' of the latter, I shall point out a book, which I believe will give
you some pleasure; at least it gave me a great deal. I never read it
before. It is 'Reflexions sur la Poesie et la Peinture, par l'Abbee de Bos',
in two octavo volumes; and is, I suppose, to be had at every great town
in France. The criticisms and the reflections are just and lively.
It may be you expect some political news from me: but I can tell you
that you will have none, for no mortal can comprehend the present state
of affairs. Eight or nine people of some consequence have resigned
their employments; upon which Lord C----- made overtures to the Duke
of B----- and his people; but they could by no means agree, and his
Grace went, the next day, full of wrath, to Woburn, so that negotiation
is entirely at an end. People wait to see who Lord C----- will take in, for
some he must have; even HE cannot be alone, 'contra mundum'. Such a
state of affairs, to be sure, was never seen before, in this or in any other
country. When this Ministry shall be settled, it will be the sixth
Ministry in six years' time.
Poor Harte is here, and in a most miserable condition; those who wish
him the best, as I do, must wish him dead. God bless you!

LETTER CCXCV
LONDON, February 13, 1767.
MY DEAR FRIEND: It is so long since I have had a letter from you,
that I am alarmed about your health; and fear that the southern parts of
France have not done so well by you as they did by me in the year 1741,
when they snatched me from the jaws of death. Let me know, upon the
receipt of this letter, how you are, and where you are.
I have no news to send you from hence; for