he parliamentary debates, a practice
contrary to the Standing Orders of Parliament, passed as far back as the
reign of Elizabeth, but the violation of which had lately begun to be
attempted.]

The serious war is at last absolutely blown over. Spain has sent us word
she is disarming. So are we. Who would have expected that a courtesan at
Paris would have prevented a general conflagration? Madame du Barri has
compensated for Madame Helen, and is _optima pacis causa_. I will not
swear that the torch she snatched from the hands of Spain may not light
up a civil war in France. The Princes of the Blood[1] are forbidden the
Court, twelve dukes and peers, of the most complaisant, are banished, or
going to be banished; and even the captains of the guard. In short, the
King, his mistress, and the Chancellor, have almost left themselves
alone at Versailles. But as the most serious events in France have
always a ray of ridicule mixed with them, some are to be exiled _to_
Paris, and some to St. Germain. How we should laugh at anybody being
banished to Soho Square and Hammersmith? The Chancellor desired to see
the Prince of Conti; the latter replied, "Qu'il lui donnoit rendezvous a
la Greve."[2]

[Footnote 1: The "Princes of the Blood" in France were those who, though
of Royal descent, were not children of a king--such, for instance, as
the Dukes of Orleans and Bourbon; and they were reckoned of a rank so
inferior to the princes of the Royal Family, that, as Marie Antoinette
on one occasion told the Duke of Orleans, in a well-deserved reproof for
his factious insolence, Princes of the Blood had never pretended to the
honour of supping with the King and herself. (See the Editor's "Life of
Marie Antoinette," c. 10). Their offence, in this instance, was having
protested against the holding and the proceedings of a _Lit de Justice_,
which had been held on April 15th, about three months after the
banishment of all the members of Parliament (Lacretelle, c. 13).]

[Footnote 2: La Greve was the place of execution in Paris.

Who has e'er been at Paris must needs know the Greve,
The fatal retreat of th' unfortunate brave;
Where honour and justice most oddly contribute
To ease hero's pains by a halter and gibbet (PRIOR).]

If we laugh at the French, they stare at us. Our enormous luxury and
expense astonishes them. I carried their Ambassador, and a Comte de
Levi, the other morning to see the new winter Ranelagh [The Pantheo