, that in your last illness in England, the
physicians mistook your case, and treated it as the gout, till Maty came,
who treated it as a rheumatism, and cured you. In my own opinion, you
have never had the gout, but always the rheumatism; which, to my
knowledge, is as painful as the gout can possibly be, and should be
treated in a quite different way; that is, by cooling medicines and
regimen, instead of those inflammatory cordials which they always
administer where they suppose the gout, to keep it, as they say, out of
the stomach.

I have been here now just a week; but have hitherto drank so little of
the water, that I can neither speak well nor ill of it. The number of
people in this place is infinite; but very few whom I know. Harte seems
settled here for life. He is not well, that is certain; but not so ill
neither as he thinks himself, or at least would be thought.

I long for your answer to my last letter, containing a certain proposal,
which, by this time, I suppose has been made you, and which, in the main,
I approve of your accepting.

God bless you, my dear friend! and send you better health! Adieu.

LETTER CCLXXIV

LONDON, February 26, 1765

MY DEAR FRIEND: Your last letter, of the 5th, gave me as much pleasure as
your former had given me uneasiness; and Larpent's acknowledgment of his
negligence frees you from those suspicions, which I own I did entertain,
and which I believe every one would, in the same concurrence of
circumstances, have entertained. So much for that.

You may depend upon what I promised you, before midsummer next, at
farthest, and AT LEAST.

All I can say of the affair between you, of the Corps Diplomatique, and
the Saxon Ministers, is, 'que voila bien du bruit pour une omelette au
lard'. It will most certainly be soon made up; and in that negotiation
show yourself as moderate and healing as your instructions from hence
will allow, especially to Comte de Flemming. The King of Prussia, I
believe, has a mind to insult him personally, as an old enemy, or else to
quarrel with Saxony, that dares not quarrel with him; but some of the
Corps Diplomatique here assure me it is only a pretense to recall his
envoy, and to send, when matters shall be made up, a little secretary
there, 'a moins de fraix', as he does now to Paris and London.

Comte Bruhl is much in fashion here; I like him mightily; he has very
much 'le ton de la bonne campagnie'. Poor Schrader died last Saturday,
with