have wished his confessor, if he had had one, to publish his avowals in the papers. 'Not a bent sixpence cares he,' as he says of himself in a boyish song, 'whether with him or at him you laugh.' To good-natured people there was something attractive in the confidingness which is implied in all his absurdities. Whether he introduces himself to the hero Paoli, the moralist Johnson, or to Mitchell, then the English Ambassador at the Court of Frederick, he immediately proceeds to give him full information as to the state of his soul. No other human being could have proposed that the great Chatham should 'honour him with a letter now and then,' in order to keep him 'ardent in the pursuit of virtuous fame.' He was at the time only known to Chatham as the author of the book upon Corsica, but thought it perfectly natural that the magnificent statesman should become his confidential adviser. Many distinguished people besides Johnson seem to have been flattered by his almost pathetic trust in their benevolence. His simplicity and good-nature were so unmistakable that, as Burke put it, they scarcely seemed to be virtuous. People overlooked the
