[Footnote 1:  The ridotto was a Venetian entertainment—­

    They went to the Ridotto—­’tis a hall
      Where people dance, and sup, and dance again;
    Its proper name, perhaps, was a masqued ball,
      But that’s of no importance to my strain;
    ’Tis (on a smaller scale) like our Vauxhall,
      Excepting that it can’t be spoilt by rain;
    The company is “mix’d”—­the phrase I quote is
      As much as saying, they’re below your notice.

Beppo, st. 38.]

[Footnote 2:  “Vestimenta.” Imitating Horace, who relates of himself—­

        Me tabula sacer
    Votiva paries indicat uvida
        Suspendisse potenti
        Vestimenta maris Deo (Od. i. 5).]

PAOLI—­AMBASSADORIAL ETIQUETTE.

TO SIR HORACE MANN.

STRAWBERRY HILL, June 14, 1769.

I thank you for the history of the Pope and his genealogy, or, rather, for what is to be his genealogy; for I suppose all those tailors and coachmen his relations will now found noble families.  They may enrich their blood with the remaining spoils of the Jesuits, unless, which would not surprise me, his new Holiness should now veer about, and endeavour to save the order; for I think the Church full as likely to fall by sacrificing its janissaries, as by any attacks that can be made upon it. Deme unum, deme etiam unum.

If I care little about your Roman politics, I am not so indifferent about your Corsican.  Poor brave Paoli!—­but he is not disgraced!  We, that have sat still and seen him overwhelmed, must answer it to history.  Nay, the Mediterranean will taunt us in the very next war.  Choiseul triumphs over us and Madame du Barri; her star seems to have lost its influence.  I do not know what another lady[1] will say to Choiseul on the late behaviour of his friend, the Ambassador, here.  As the adventure will make a chapter in the new edition of Wiquefort, and, consequently, will strike you, I will give you the detail.  At the ball on the King’s birthday, Count Czernichew was sitting in the box of the Foreign Ministers next to Count Seilern, the Imperial Ambassador.  The latter, who is as fierce as the Spread Eagle itself, and as stiff as the chin of all the Ferdinands, was, according to his custom, as near to Jupiter as was possible.  Monsieur du Chatelet and the Prince de Masserano came in.  Chatelet sidled up to the two former, spoke to them and passed behind them, but on a sudden lifted up his leg and thrust himself in between the two Imperials.  The Russian, astonished and provoked, endeavoured to push him away, and a jostle began that discomposed the faces and curls of both; and the Russian even dropped the word impertinent.  Czernichew, however, quitted the spot of battle, and the Prince de Masserano, in support of the family-compact, hobbled into the place below Chatelet.  As the two champions retired, more words at the door.  However, the