Gibbon came out with some of his very tedious witticisms. His joke was that Lady Beauchamp[98] was the most unfortunate woman alive. She was for a day or two wife to the most profligate man in the world, for she was Lady Rochester; she then was wife to a traitor; and was finally become an old German Countess, declared mistress to the King--the Countess of Yarmouth.[99] All these changes arose from Lord Yarmouth finding a difficulty in the choice of a second title upon his father’s being made a Marquis. [Sidenote: IN ENGLAND] I went to Brightelmstone; the Prince chose to _combler_ me with every attention and civility. He gave me breakfast in his tent to show me his regiment, of which he is extremely vain. In London I passed all my mornings and evenings with the Duchess of Devonshire. In the morning we attended chemical lectures from Higgins, and in the evening I passed my time at Devonshire House. I went to Court with Lady George Cavendish. The Queen spoke very crossly when she heard I was going to return to Florence. The King talked about Dunkirk and his son. I dined with Burke at Lady Elliot’s. He was full of delight at the capture of Toulon, and burst forth in a grand strain of eloquence at the prospect of our having again the _Cocarde blanche_ and the standard of royalty raised in one of the chief cities of France. He said the allies were annoyed from a little fort still held by the Republicans, but that once taken they should become masters of the country. This fort was called the Heights of St. Anne’s. ‘Aye,’ said he, ‘St. Anne’s is always in the way,’ alluding to Mr. Fox’s opposition to the war, and his residence being at St. Anne’s Hill, near Windsor. I heard from Lord Henry, very miserable at not being able to catch me anywhere on my return, but ordered to repair immediately to Stockholm. Lord Sheffield consulted me about marrying. I recommended him to marry Lucy Pelham; he begged me to sound T. P., who appeared much pleased at the possibility of such an event.[100] I think it will happen. Our parties at Devonshire House were delightfully pleasant. Lady Melbourne[101] is uncommonly sensible and amusing, though she often puts me in mind of Madame de Merteuil in the _Liaisons dangereuses_. The Duke of Bedford is attached to her; he is quite brutal from the _brusquerie_ of his manner. He is magnificently generous to his younger brothers, and indeed to all who are in distress. He is decidedly with Mr. Fox, a circumstance that displeases the staunch courtiers. Mr. Grey is the _bien aimé_ of the Duchess; he is a fractious, _exigeant_ lover. Sheridan has lost his lovely wife. We made friends; he did behave abominably to me without any question two years ago. I lived also a good deal with the Duchess of Gordon; supped with her, and went to the play. I was really very much admired, improved in my manner, and a sort of fashion and novelty by coming from abroad. [Sidenote: SIR GILBERT ELLIOT]