Read 'Les Liaisons dangereuses.' Much has been said about the dangerous tendency of certain books, and probably this would be considered as one pregnant with mischief. I consider this a mere jargon, and although I would never recommend this book (because it is so grossly indecent) I should never apprehend the smallest danger to the most inexperienced mind or the warmest passions from its immoral tendency. The principle upon which books of this description are considered pernicious is the notion that they represent vice in such glowing and attractive colours as to make us lose sight of its deformity and fill our imagination with the idea of its pleasures. No one who has any feeling or a spark of generosity or humanity in his breast can read this book without being moved with compassion for Madame de Tourval and with horror and disgust towards Valmont and Madame de Merteuil. It raised in my mind a detestation of such cold-blooded, inhuman profligacy, and I felt that I would rather every pleasure that can flow from the intercourse of women were debarred me than run such a course. The moral effect upon my mind was stronger than any which ever resulted from the most didactic work, and if anyone wants to excite remorse in the most vicious mind I would recommend him to make use of 'Les Liaisons dangereuses' for the purpose. The Duchess of York died on Sunday morning of water on her chest. She was insensible the last two days. She is deeply regretted by her husband, her friends, and her servants. Probably no person in such a situation was ever more really liked. She has left £12,000 to her servants and some children whom she had caused to be educated. She had arranged all her affairs with the greatest exactitude, and left nothing undone. [Page Head: THE QUEEN'S TRIAL.] The Queen's letter was brought to the King whilst he was at dinner (at the Cottage). He said, 'Tell the Queen's messenger that the King can receive no communication from her except through the hands of his Ministers.' Esterhazy was present, and said he did this with extraordinary dignity. Newmarket, October 2nd, 1820 {p.035} I left town in the middle of August with George Fox. We went down with extraordinary rapidity. I never was happier than to escape from London and to find myself in Yorkshire. It was a new world, and the change was most refreshing. The refinement of London was not there, but there was a good humour, gaiety, and hospitality which amused and delighted me. London, October 8th, 1820 {p.035}