interdicted.  Travelling boys and self-sufficient governors would be an incumbrance to you, could you see more of your countrymen of more satisfactory conversation.  Florence probably is improved since it had a Court of its own, and there must be men a little more enlightened than the poor Italians.  Scarcely any of the latter that ever I knew but, if they had parts, were buffoons.  I believe the boasted finesse of the ruling clergy is pretty much a traditionary notion, like their jealousy.  More nations than one live on former characters after they are totally changed.

I have been often and much in France.  In the provinces they may still be gay and lively; but at Paris, bating the pert etourderie of very young men, I protest I scarcely ever saw anything like vivacity—­the Duc de Choiseul alone had more than any hundred Frenchmen I could select.  Their women are the first in the world in everything but beauty; sensible, agreeable, and infinitely informed.  The philosophes, except Buffon, are solemn, arrogant, dictatorial coxcombs—­I need not say superlatively disagreeable.  The rest are amazingly ignorant in general, and void of all conversation but the routine with women.  My dear and very old friend [Madame du Deffand] is a relic of a better age, and at nearly eighty-four has all the impetuosity that was the character of the French.  They have not found out, I believe, how much their nation is sunk in Europe;—­probably the Goths and Vandals of the North will open their eyes before a century is past.  I speak of the swarming empires that have conglomerated within our memories. We dispelled the vision twenty years ago:  but let us be modest till we do so again....

11th.

Last night I received from town the medal you promised me on the Moorish alliance.[1] It is at least as magnificent as the occasion required, and yet not well executed.  The medallist Siriez, I conclude, is grandson of my old acquaintance Louis Siriez of the Palazzo Vecchio.

[Footnote 1:  A treaty had just been concluded between the Duke of Tuscany and the Emperor of Morocco.]

Yesterday’s Gazette issued a proclamation on the expected invasion from Havre, where they are embarking mightily.  Some think the attempt will be on Portsmouth.  To sweeten this pill, Clinton has taken a fort and seventy men—­not near Portsmouth, but New York; and there were reports at the latter that Charleston is likely to surrender.  This would be something, if there were not a French war and a Spanish war in the way between us and Carolina.  Sir Charles Hardy is at Torbay with the whole fleet, which perhaps was not a part of the plan at Havre:  we shall see, and you shall hear, if anything passes.

Friday night, July 16th.