"Paris, January 18th, 1830. "MY DEAR, DEAR FRIEND,-A report has reached me that has filled my mind with terror and regret, and perhaps, of all created beings, I am the one who can the most truly and deeply sympathize in your feelings at this crisis. It is because I know, by bitter experience, the utter hopelessness of all attempts at consolation at such a moment, that my writing to you has only one object --that of assuring you that my heart bleeds for and with you; and as I know the sincerity of your affection for me, my sympathy, which is, God knows, true and heartfelt, can not be deemed obtrusive. You, like me, have lost the kindest and truest of friends—a loss that will be felt with anguish all your days. I, who knew your affection and devotion to him, can well feel all the bitterness of your grief; and I, who knew also how well he merited it, and who felt for him the most sincere friendship and respect, can fully estimate your cruel bereavement. But you, my dearest friend, have a consolation that was denied to me; you have a son, who will share, and, if possible, lighten your sorrow, while I am alone, with estranged and ungrateful friends. Think of Charles, who has only you left him for consolation, and let this thought give you force to bear up against your grief. Change of scene would, I am certain, be of use to you; my house and heart are open to receive you, and here you will meet with the truest sympathy. M. BLESSINGTON."

"Paris, May 7th, 1830.

"I lose not a moment in replying to your letter of the 3d, and regret that I can not at all enlighten you on the subject you name. All that has occurred on the subject of the attacks in the ‘Age' I shall now lay before you. Mr. P is the only person to whom I ever named you as having given me any information relative to the subject; and this I only did because I conceived, from a passage in one of your letters, that he had had a conversation with you on the affair. I wrote to Mr. P—, urging him to commence a prosetion against the editor, and stated to him that Lord S de R had advised me to do so, as the only means of putting a stop to these attacks. Mr. P was of a different opinion, and advised our treating the attack with contempt; and so the affair ended. I never heard of Lord S- writing to England on the subject, and am sure he is too indolent to take the trouble, when he was in no way interested.

"When Colonel C returned to Paris in February, and came to see me, I told him my information as to his being the author of the attacks; but this I did without ever even hinting at my informant. He declared his innocence in the most positive terms, gave his word of honor that he had never written a line in his life of scandal for any paper, and never could lend himself to so base and vile a proceeding. His manner of denial was most convincing, and so it ended. Two months ago, Captain G——, of the Guards, who had been very severely attacked in the 'Age,' went to London, and took a friend with him to the editor of the 'Age,' who even gave him a small piece of the letter

sent from Paris, which Captain G― sent Comte D'Orsay, and which is a totally different writing from Colonel C's; and so here ended the business, as it was useless to do any thing more, except commence a prosecution, which I still think ought to have been done. Mr. P—— has never given either Comte D'Orsay or myself the least information, since last January, on this subject; and now you know all that I do on this point. I have never seen a single number of the Age,' do not know a single person who takes it in, and never hear it named, so that I am in total ignorance as to the attacks it contains.

"I can name as yet no definite period for my going to England. Pecuniary affairs prevent me at present, though I am anxious to go, in the hope that change of air may do me good, my health and spirits being very, very poorly. This month, as your heart may tell you, is a great trial to me; it has renewed my grief with a vividness that you can understand; for it is dreadful to see all nature blooming around, and to think that the last time I welcomed the approach of spring, I was as happy as heart could wish, blessed with the best and most delicate of friends, while now all around me wears the same aspect, and all within my heart is blighted forever! M. BLESSINGTON."

"Paris, Monday, August 9th, 1830. "Thanks, my dearest Mrs. Mathews, for the kind solicitude expressed in your letter of the 2d, which reached me this day, and which I hasten to remove as speedily as possible, by assuring you that we never were, during the whole tumult, exposed to the least personal danger, and that now every thing is so perfectly tranquil here that we have nothing to dread. The scenes we have witnessed form an epoch in our lives; we may truly say the Revolution was a triumph of liberty over despotism, and unstained by a single act of cruelty or pillage. Private property has been respected in every instance; and while the mass of the people have been, as it were, animated but by one feeling, a just indignation against their oppressors, no example of robbery or cruelty can be cited against them. It is impossible to have witnessed their conduct without feelings of warm admiration and respect, and without remarking the striking effects of the march of intellect. M. BLESSINGTON."

"Sunday, 14th August, 1831.

"I fully enter into all the feelings and troubles that have oppressed you up to the last. Perhaps I can the more deeply enter into them at this period, as your letter found me sinking under all the nervous excitation natural for a sensitive person to feel under such painful and embarrassing circumstances as I find myself placed in. M. BLESSINGTON."

"Seamore Place, December 7th, 1831. "What shall I say in return for the many sweet but too flattering things your partiality has prompted you to address to me? All I shall say is, that

if it had been my lot in life to have met with many hearts like yours, I might have become all that your affection leads you to believe me; or if, in my near relations, I had met with only kind usage or delicacy, I should now not only be happier, but a better woman, for happiness and goodness are more frequently allied than we think. But I confess to you, my beloved friend, a great part of the milk and honey of nature with which my heart originally overflowed is turned into gall; and though I have still enough goodness left to prevent its bitterness from falling even on those who have caused it, yet have I not power to prevent its corroding my own heart, and rusting many of the qualities with which Nature had blessed me. To have a proud spirit, with a tender heart, is an unfortunate union, and I have not been able to curb the first or steel the second; and when I have felt myself the dupe of those for whom I sacrificed so much, and in return only asked for affection, it has soured me against a world where I feel alone-misunderstood—with my very best qualities turned against me. If an envious or a jealous crowd misjudge or condemn, a proud spirit can bear up against injustice, conscious of its own rectitude; but if, in the most inveterate assailants, one finds those whom we believe to be our trusted friends, the blow is incurable, and leaves behind a wound that will, in spite of every effort, bleed afresh, as memory recalls the cruel conduct that inflicted it. Cæsar defended himself against his foes, but when he saw his friend Brutus strike at him, he gave up the struggle. If any thing can preserve me from the mildew of the soul that is growing on me, it will be your affection, which almost reconciles me to human M. BLESSINGTON."

nature.

"Monday, 14th November, 1831.

"Count D'Orsay has just arrived, and has described to me (not without tears) the distressing scene he witnessed at Ivy Cottage.

"I am miserable at your continuing there this night, and would give any thing on earth that you were with me. Do let me entreat of you to come to me to-morrow, and remain here until all is over; believe me, it is best for every reason. As long as your presence could be of use to the faithful and excellent creature who is departed, I would not have proposed your leaving him for a day; but now all is over, your staying in such a scene will only destroy your already shattered nerves and injured health, which must be preserved to console poor dear Charles. M. BLESSINGTON."

"Thursday evening, April 26th, 1832.

"It is strange, my dearest friend, but it is no less strange than true, that there exists some hidden chord of sympathy, some lightning of the mind,' that draws kindred souls toward each other when the bodies are separated. I have been for the last four days thinking so much of you, that, had this day been tolerable, I should have gone to you, as I had a thousand misgivings that something was wrong, when lo! your little note arrives, and I find that you

too have been thinking of your absent friend. I shall be so glad to hear that Mr. Mathews is returned, and in better health and spirits. I feel all that you have had to undergo; that wear and tear of the mind, that exhausts both nerves and spirits, is more pernicious in its effects than greater trials. The latter call forth our energies to bear them, but the former wear us out without leaving even the self-complacency of resisted shocks. I shall be most glad to see you again, and to tell you that, in nearness as in distance, your affection is the cable that holds my sheet anchor, and reconciles me to a world where I see much to pity and little to console. La Contessa Guiccioli is arrived in England, and this day came to see me. She is a very interesting person, gentle, amiable, and unhappy; you would, I am sure, like her, and, if you think so, you shall meet her here at dinner with me when you like.

"M. BLESSINGTON."

"Monday evening, April 3d, 1832.

"You have such a good and kind heart, my dearest friend, that I know it will give you pleasure to hear that your friend has seen her error, made the amende honorable without any communication from me, and that all is at present couleur de rose. I could not sleep without telling you this. Why do we live so far asunder? I am sure it would add years to my life, and oh! how much happiness to those years, to see you often. Your presence not only makes me happier, but makes me better; there is a soothing influence in your looks, manner, tones, and voice, that comforts and tranquillizes my feelings, like a delicious twilight, that is so dearly valued because felt to be so fleeting; not that I should appreciate your dear society or twilight less were both as lasting as they are delightful; but, alas!

"All that's bright must fade.'

"M. BLESSINGTON."

"Sunday, June 24th, 1832.

"I have had all the horrors of authorship on my hands the last week, so that I really have not had an hour to call my own, and retire at night so fatigued as to be unable to sleep.

"I have disposed of my 'Journal of Conversations with Lord Byron' very advantageously; they are first to appear in the New Monthly,' and after in a separate volume. I tell you all this, knowing the interest your dear, kind heart takes in all that concerns me. You may be assured that it delights me to hear of dear Charles's success in every branch to which he turns his talents; and I foretold from his earliest youth that he must succeed in all that he tried. "M. BLESSINGTON."

"Seamore Place, Sept. 20th, 1832.

"I have had my father with me for the last fortnight, and he only left me to-day. My brother is at Palace Yard, but I see him every day. You must

never imagine for a single moment that there exists that person that could rival you in my affection: there is but one Mrs. Mathews in the world, though there may be, and are, a thousand amiable and charming people; and though La Contessa Guiccioli is among the thousand, and perhaps unites more good qualities than fall to the share of many of the number, still she is not formed to occupy a place that ever had been filled by you. Alfred charges me with all that is grateful, affectionate, and sincere to you. You have not, after Charles, on earth, a male heart more truly devoted to you, nor a female one that feels for you a more true, warm, and constant affection than your most cordial friend, M. BLESSINGTON."

"Friday, Sept. 20th, 1832.

"You will, I know, be sorry to hear of the death of dear, good Madame Crawford. She died at Paris on the 13th, lamented by all who knew her, and deeply so by me, to whom she was most deservedly endeared by a friendship as warm as it was unchanging, of which she gave me many proofs. Though, from her advanced age, being in her eighty-fifth year, a protracted existence was not to be expected, still her heart was so warm, and her affections so fresh and devoted, that one could never consider her as an old woman; and if age was to be considered by feelings instead of years, how much younger was dear, good Madame Crawford than many of those who have not half her years! Your friend, and I may safely use the term in its true acceptation of the word, as he is your true and affectionate friend, Cte. Alfred, is deeply grieved, for he truly loved his grandmother, as she did him. He begs me to offer you his most affectionate remembrances, and to Mr. Mathews his kind regards. Pray make mine also acceptable to him. I had seen notices of dear Charles's whereabouts in the newspapers, and was truly glad to have them confirmed by you. That his expedition will be most serviceable to his health and spirits admits not of a doubt, and that it will be advantageous to his future prospects is, I think, equally sure; for the intimacy of the influential family with whom he is domesticated can not fail to be cemented by a warm friendship, as Charles has as many solid qualities to insure esteem as he has brilliant talents to win admiration, and those he met as acquaintances he will leave as friends. M. BLESSINGTON."

"Saturday, 29th Sept., 1832.

"I wrote a line to Charles at Newport to apprise him of the necessity of his appearance at Lincoln's Inn on the 1st. I must repeat the regret I feel at taking him from you and his father, when the helplessness of the latter renders his son's attention so necessary for you. I so well know the devotedness of your affection for those you love, that a sacrifice of personal comfort costs you, perhaps, less than any one else; but when I reflect on the fearful accident, and its consequences, that has reduced Mr. Mathews to his present distressing state, I feel pained beyond expression at depriving him and you of