Opposition rejoiced; but they ought to have been better acquainted with
one educated in their own school. Lord North has since accepted the
seals--and the reversion of his father's pension.

[Footnote 1: Lord North succeeded Townshend as Chancellor of the
Exchequer; and, when the Duke of Grafton retired, he became First Lord
of the Treasury also, and continued to hold both offices till the spring
of 1782.]

While that eccentric genius, Charles Townshend, whom no system could
contain, is whirled out of existence, our more artificial meteor, Lord
Chatham, seems to be wheeling back to the sphere of business--at least
his health is declared to be re-established; but he has lost his
adorers, the mob, and I doubt the wise men will not travel after his
light.

You, my dear Sir, will be most concerned for the poor Duke of York,[1]
who has ended his silly, good-humoured, troublesome career, in a piteous
manner. He had come to the camp at Compiegne, without his brother's
approbation, but had been received here not only with every proper mark
of distinction, but with the utmost kindness. He had succeeded, too, was
attentive, civil, obliging, lively, pleased, and very happy in his
replies. Charmed with a Court so lively in comparison of the monastic
scene at home, he had promised to return for Fontainebleau, and then
scampered away as fast as he could ride or drive all round the South of
France, intending to visit a lady at Genoa, with whom he was in love,
whenever he had a minute's time. The Duc de Villars gave him a ball at
his country-house, between Aix and Marseilles; the Duke of York danced
at it all night as hard as if it made part of his road, and then in a
violent sweat, and without changing his linen, got into his postchaise.
At Marseilles the scene changed. He arrived in a fever, and found among
his letters, which he had ordered to meet him there, one from the King
his brother, forbidding him to go to Compiegne, by the advice of the
Hereditary Prince. He was struck with this letter, which he had
ignorantly disobeyed, and by the same ignorance had not answered. He
proceeded, however, on his journey, but grew so ill that his gentlemen
carried him to Monaco, where he arrived on the third, and languished
with great suffering until the seventeenth. He behaved with the most
perfect tranquillity and courage, made a short will, and the day before
he died dictated to Colonel St. John, a letter to the King, in which he
begged