a distinct nation themselves, and like no other.

I dined yesterday with Mrs. F----d, her mother and husband. He is an
athletic Hibernian, handsome in his person, but excessively awkward and
vulgar in his air and manner. She inquired much after you, and, I
thought, with interest. I answered her as a 'Mezzano' should do: 'Et je
pronai votre tendresse, vos soins, et vos soupirs'.

When you meet with any British returning to their own country, pray send
me by them any little 'brochures, factums, theses', etc., 'qui font du
bruit ou du plaisir a Paris'. Adieu, child.

LETTER CLVII

LONDON, January 23, O. S. 1752.

MY DEAR FRIEND: Have you seen the new tragedy of Varon,--[Written by the
Vicomte de Grave; and at that time the general topic of conversation at
Paris.]--and what do you think of it? Let me know, for I am determined to
form my taste upon yours. I hear that the situations and incidents are
well brought on, and the catastrophe unexpected and surprising, but the
verses bad. I suppose it is the subject of all conversations at Paris,
where both women and men are judges and critics of all such performances;
such conversations, that both form and improve the taste, and whet the
judgment; are surely preferable to the conversations of our mixed
companies here; which, if they happen to rise above bragg and whist,
infallibly stop short of everything either pleasing or instructive.

I take the reason of this to be, that (as women generally give the 'ton'
to the conversation) our English women are not near so well informed and
cultivated as the French; besides that they are naturally more serious
and silent.

I could wish there were a treaty made between the French and English
theatres, in which both parties should make considerable concessions. The
English ought to give up their notorious violations of all the unities;
and all their massacres, racks, dead bodies, and mangled carcasses, which
they so frequently exhibit upon their stage. The French should engage to
have more action and less declamation; and not to cram and crowd things
together, to almost a degree of impossibility, from a too scrupulous
adherence to the unities. The English should restrain the licentiousness
of their poets, and the French enlarge the liberty of theirs; their poets
are the greatest slaves in their country, and that is a bold word; ours
are the most tumultuous subjects in England, and that is saying a good
deal. Under such regulatio