ials, but for want of writers. We have comedies without novelty,
gross satires without stings, metaphysical eloquence, and antiquarians
that discover nothing.

Boeotum in crasso jurares aere natos!

[Footnote 1: In 1770 the Chancellor, Maupeou, had abolished the
Parliament, as has been mentioned in a former note. Their conduct ever
since the death of Richelieu had been factious and corrupt. But, though
the Sovereign Courts, which Maupeou had established in their stead, had
worked well, their extinction had been unpopular in Paris; and, on the
accession of Louis XVI., the new Prime Minister, Maurepas, proposed
their re-establishment, and the Queen, most unfortunately, was persuaded
by the Duc de Choiseul to exert her influence in support of the measure.
Turgot, the great Finance Minister--indeed, the greatest statesman that
France ever produced--resisted it with powerful arguments, but Louis
yielded to the influence of his consort. The Parliaments were
re-established, and soon verified all the predictions of Turgot by
conduct more factious and violent than ever. (See the Editor's "France
under the Bourbons," iii. 413.)]

[Footnote 2: A _Lit de Justice_ was an extraordinary meeting of the
Parliament, presided over by the sovereign in person, and one in which
no opposition, or even discussion, was permitted; but any edict which
had been issued was at once registered.]

Don't tell me I am grown old and peevish and supercilious--name the
geniuses of 1774, and I submit. The next Augustan age will dawn on the
other side of the Atlantic. There will, perhaps, be a Thucydides at
Boston, a Xenophon at New York, and, in time, a Virgil at Mexico, and a
Newton at Peru. At last, some curious traveller from Lima will visit
England and give a description of the ruins of St. Paul's, like the
editions of Balbec and Palmyra; but am I not prophesying, contrary to my
consummate prudence, and casting horoscopes of empires like Rousseau?
Yes; well, I will go and dream of my visions.

_29th._

... The Parliament opened just now--they say the speech talks of the
_rebellion_ of the Province of Massachusetts; but if _they-say_ tells a
lie, I wash my hands of it. As your gazetteer, I am obliged to send you
all news, true or false. I have believed and unbelieved everything I
have heard since I came to town. Lord Clive has died every death in the
parish register; at present it is most fashionable to believe he cut his
throat. That he is d