Wilkes had come over the last year, during the recess of Parliament, to try to obtain his pardon, and by the Duke of Grafton’s desire wrote a very submissive letter to his Grace, to be shown to the King. The Duke then told him his pardon could not be obtained without the concurrence of Lord Chatham, and wished him to write to the latter too. Wilkes, who had been abandoned and stigmatized by Lord Chatham, though formerly intimate with and flattered by him, had too much spirit to throw himself at Chatham’s feet, and refused: but, irritated at his disappointment, he published an exaggerated account of that transaction, with unjust severity on the Duke[1],--and returned to Paris. His Grace, Lord Rockingham, and others of that connexion, had yearly contributed the sum of 1000_l._ or 1100_l._ to his support. Mr. Fitzherbert collected their donations. It was now the season of collection. In defiance of the Duke, Wilkes sent over a new abusive pamphlet against the Administration. March 16th.--The Houses adjourned for the holidays. At this period happened the sudden and total expulsion of the Jesuits from Spain,--a measure so unexpected by them, that they were made prisoners in their convents throughout the kingdom, without having had the least intimation of their intended ruin; a moment of history that will ever be remarkable. The order, renowned for their subtlety and art, dreaded for the empire they had obtained over the consciences of princes and private persons, and seated in the most bigoted country upon earth, had neither sagacity to surmise their impending destruction, nor one penitent so weak and devout as to give them intelligence of what, for a whole year, was in agitation against them. That fabric of human policy and wickedness fell to the ground in an instant. Not a murmur was heard against the rigour of the sentence, though they were conducted to the sea-coasts like exiled malefactors, thrust into ships, and sent like cargoes of damaged goods to their proprietor, the Pope. Clement XIII. though an enthusiast, could not receive them. They were at last dispatched to Corsica, one and all, after being tossed about at sea for _some months_,[2] stowed in the narrow compass of a few vessels,--a fate so severe, that the greatest enemy of Catholic imposition must commiserate the sufferers. However detestable the maxims of the society, however criminal some of the order might have been, the greater part were undoubtedly innocent--many, perhaps, conscientious men; who, trusting to the establishment and laws of the country, and believing the doctrines they had been taught, had entered into religion. Let the impartial mind weigh the weight of the calamity that fell like thunder on those poor men! Torn from the tranquillity of their convents; too old or too ignorant to turn to new professions; delivered up to an element they were totally unaccustomed to, sickening with the natural effect of the