429. To the Countess of Ossory, Jan. 13--576

End of Volume IV.

Letter 1 To Sir David Dalrymple.(1)

Arlington Street, Jan. 1, 1770. (page 25)

Sir,

I have read with great pleasure and information, your History

of Scottish Councils. It gave me much more satisfaction than I

could have expected from so dry a subject. It will be perused,

do not doubt it, by men of taste and judgment; and it is happy

that it will be read Without occasioning a controversy. The

curse of modern times is, that almost every thing does create

controversy, and that men who are willing to instruct or amuse

the world have to dread malevolence and interested censure,

instead of receiving thanks. If your part of our country is at

all free from that odious spirit, you are to be envied. In our

region we are given up to every venomous mischievous passion,

and as we behold all the public vices that raged in and

destroyed the remains of the Roman Commonwealth, so I wish we

do not experience some of the horrors that brought on the same

revolution. When we see men who call themselves patriots and

friends of liberty attacking the House of Commons, to what,

Sir, can you and I, who are really friends of liberty, impute

such pursuits, but to interest and disappointed ambition! When

we see, on one hand, the prerogative of the Crown excited

against Parliament, and on the other, the King and Royal Family

traduced and insulted in the most shameless manner, can we

believe such a faction is animated by honesty or love of the

constitution? When, as you very sensibly observe, the authors

of grievances are the loudest to complain of them, and when

those authors and their capital enemies shake hands, embrace,

and join in a common cause, which set can we believe most or

least sincere? And when every set of men have acted every

part, to whom shall the well-meaning look up? What can the

latter do, but sit with folded arms and pray for miracles?

Yes, Sir, they may weep over a prospect of ruin too probably

approaching, and regret a glorious country nodding to its fall,

when victory, wealth, and daily universal improvements, might

make it the admiration and envy of the world? Is the Crown to

be forced to be absolute? Is Caesar to enslave us, because he

conquered Gaul? Is some Cromwell to trample on us, because

Mrs. Macaulay approves the army that turned out the House of

Commons, the necessary consequence of such mad notions? Is

eloquence to talk or write us out of ourselves? or is Catiline

to save us, butt so as by fire? Sir, I talk thus freely,

because it is a satisfaction, in ill-looking moments, to vent

one's apprehensions in an honest bosom. YOU Will not, I am

sure, suffer my letter to go out of your own hands. I have no

views to satisfy or resentments to gratify. I have done with

the world, except in the hopes of a quiet enjoyment of it for

the few years I may have to come; but I love my country, though

I desire and expect nothing from it, and I would wish to leave

it to posterity, as secure and deserving to be valued, as I

found it. Despotism, or unbounded licentiousness, can endear

no nation to any honest man. The French can adore the monarch

that starves them, and banditti are often attached to their

chief; but no good Briton can love any constitution that does

not secure the tranquillity and peace of mind of all.

(1) Now first collected.

Letter 2 To Sir David Dalrymple.(2)

Arlington Street, Jan. 23, 1770. (page 26)

Sir,

I have not had time to return you the enclosed sooner, but I

give you my honour that it has neither been out of my hands,

nor been copied. It is a most curious piece, but though

affecting art has very little; so ill is the satire disguised.

I agree with you in thinking it ought not to be published yet,

as nothing is more cruel than divulging private letters which

may wound the living. I have even the same tenderness for the

children of persons concerned; but I laugh at delicacy for

grandchildren, who can be affected by nothing but their pride-

-and let that be hurt if it will. It always finds means of

consoling itself.

The rapid history of Mr. Yorke is very touching.(3) For

himself, he has escaped a torrent of obloquy, which this

unfeeling and prejudiced moment was ready to pour on him. Many

of his survivors may, perhaps, live to envy him! Madness and

wickedness gain ground--and you may be sure borrow the chariot

of virtue. Lord Chatham, not content with endeavouring to

confound and overturn the legislature, has thrown out, that one

member more ought to be added to each county;(4) so little do

ambition -,And indulgence scruple to strike at fundamentals!

Sir George Savile and Edmund Burke, as if envying the infamous

intoxication of Wilkes, have attacked the House of Commons

itself, in the most gross and vilifying language.(5) In short,

the plot thickens fast, and Catilines start up in every street.

I cannot say Ciceros and Catos arise to face them. The

phlegmatic and pedants in history quote King William's and

Sacheverel's times to show the present is not more serious; but

if I have any reading, I must remember that the repetition of

bad scenes brings about a catastrophe at last! It is small

consolation to living sufferers to reflect that history will

rejudge great criminals; nor is that sure. How seldom is

history fairly stated! When do all men concur in the Same

sentence? Do the guilty dead regard its judicature, or they

who prefer the convict to the judge? Besides, an ape of Sylla

will call himself Brutus, and the foolish people assist a

proscription before they suspect that their hero is an

incendiary. Indeed, Sir, we are, as Milton says--

"On evil days fallen and evil tongues!"

I shall be happy to find I have had too gloomy apprehensions.

A man, neither connected with ministers nor opponents, may

speculate too subtly. If all this is but a scramble for power,

let it fall to whose lot it will! It is the attack on the

constitution that strikes me. I have nothing to say for the

corruption of senators; but if the senate itself is declared

vile by authority, that is by a dissolution, will a re-election

restore its honour? Will Wilkes, and Parson Horne, and Junius

(for they will name the members) give us more virtuous

representations than ministers have done? Reformation must be

a blessed work in the hands of such reformers! Moderation, and

attachment to the constitution, are my principles. Is the

latter to be risked rather than endure any single evil? I

would oppose, that is restrain, by opposition check, each

branch of the legislature that predominates in its turn;--but

if I detest Laud, it does not make me love Hugh Peters.

Adieu, Sir! I must not tire you with my reflections; but as I

am flattered with thinking I have the sanction of the same

sentiments in you, it is natural to indulge even unpleasing

meditations when one meets with sympathy, and it is as natural

for those who love their country to lament its danger. I am,

Sir, etc.

(2) Now first collected.

(3) On the 17th, Mr. Charles Yorke was appointed lord

chancellor, and a patent was ordered to be made out, creating

him a peer, by the title of Lord Morden; but, three days after,

before the patent could be completed, he suddenly closed his

valuable life, at the early age of forty-eight.-E.

(4) Lord Chatham, on the preceding day, had made his celebrated

speech on the state of the nation, which had the good fortune

to be ably reported by Sir Philip Francis, and attracted the

particular attention of Junius. The following is the passage

which gave Walpole so much offence:--"Since we cannot cure the

disorder, let us endeavour to infuse such a portion of new

health into the constitution, as may enable it to support its

most inveterate diseases. The representation of the counties

is, I think, still preserved pure and uncorrupted. That of the

greatest cities is upon a footing equally respectable; and

there are many of the larger trading towns which stilt preserve

their independence. The infusion of health which I now allude

to would be to permit every county to elect one member more in

addition to their present representation." Sir Philip

Francis's report of this speech was first printed by Almon in

1792. Junius, in a letter to Wilkes, of the 7th of September

1771, says--"I approve highly of Lord Chatham's idea of

infusing a portion of new health into the constitution, to

enable it to bear its infirmities; a brilliant expression, and

full of intrinsic wisdom." There can be little doubt that

Junius and Sir Philip Francis were present in the House of

Lords, when this speech was delivered. See Chatham

Correspondence, vol. iii. p. 406.-E.

(5) The speeches of Sir George Savile and Mr. Burke, above

alluded to, will be found in Sir Henry Cavendish's Debates.-E.

Letter 3. To George Montagu, Esq.

Arlington Street, March 31, 1770. (page 28)

I shall be extremely obliged to you for Alderman Backwell. A

scarce print is a real present to me, who have a table of

weights and measures in my head very different from that of the

rich and covetous. I am glad your journey was prosperous. The

weather here has continued very sharp, but it has been making

preparations for April to-day, and watered the streets with

some soft showers. They will send me to Strawberry to-morrow,

where I hope to find the lilacs beginning to put forth their

little noses. Mr. Chute mends very slowly, but you know he has

as much patience as gout.

I depend upon seeing you whenever you return this wayward. You

will find the round chamber far advanced, though not finished;

for my undertakings do not stride with the impetuosity of my

youth. This single room has been half as long in completing as

all the rest of the castle. My compliments to Mr. John, whom I

hope to see at the same time.

Letter 4 To George Montagu, Esq.

Strawberry Hill May 6, 1770. (page 28)

If you are like me, you are fretting at the weather. We have

not a leaf, yet, large enough to make an apron for a Miss Eve

at two years old. Flowers and fruits, if they come at all this

year, must meet together as they do in a Dutch picture; our

lords and ladies, however, couple as if it were the real

Giovent`u dell' anno. Lord Albemarle,(6) you know has

disappointed all his brothers and my niece; and Lord

Fitzwilliam is declared sposo to Lady Charlotte Ponsonby.(7)

It is a pretty match, and makes Lord Besborough as happy as

possible.

Masquerades proceed in spite of church and King. The Bishop of

London persuaded that good soul the Archbishop to remonstrate

against them; but happily the age prefers silly follies to

serious ones, and dominos, comme de raison, carry It against

lawn sleeves.(8)

There is a new Institution that begins to and if it proceeds,

will make a considerable noise. It is a club of both sexes to

be erected at Almack's, on the model of that of the men at

White's. Mrs. Fitzroy, Lady Pembroke, Mrs. Meynel, Lady

Molyneux, MISS Pelham, and Miss Loyd, are the foundresses. I

am ashamed to say I am of so young and fashionable a society;

but as they are people I live with, I choose to be idle rather

than morose. I can go to a young supper, without forgetting

how much sand is run out of the hourglass. Yet I shall never

pass a triste old age in turning the psalms into Latin or

English verse. My plan is to pass away calmly; cheerfully if I

can; sometimes to amuse myself with the rising generation, but

to take care not to fatigue them, nor weary them with old

stories, which will not interest them, as their adventures do

not interest me. Age would indulge prejudices if it did not

sometimes polish itself against younger acquaintance; but it

must be the work of folly if one hopes to contract friendship

with them, or desires it, or thinks one can become the same

follies, or expects that they should do more than bear one for

one's good humour. In short, they are a pleasant medicine,

that one should take care not to grow fond of. Medicines hurt

when habit has annihilated their force; but you see I am in no

danger. I intend by degrees to decrease my opium, instead of

augmenting the dose. Good-night! You see I never let our

long-lived friendship drop, though you give it so few

opportunities of breathing.

(6) George, third Earl of Albemarle. His lordship had married,

on the 20th of April, Anne, youngest daughter of Sir John

Miller, Bart. of Chichester. He died in October 1772.-E.

(7) Lady Charlotte Ponsonby, second daughter of William, second

Earl of Besborough. The marriage took place on the 1st of

July.-E.

(8) Dr. Johnson, having read in the newspapers an account of a

masquerade given at Edinburgh, by the Countess Dowager of Fife,

at which Boswell had appeared in the character of a dumb

conjuror, thus wrote to him:--"I have heard of your masquerade.

What says your synod to such innovations? I am not studiously

scrupulous, nor do I think a Masquerade either evil in itself

or very likely to be the occasion of evil, yet, as the world

thinks it a very licentious relaxation of manners, I would not

have been one of the first masquers in a country where no

masquerades had ever been before."-E.

Letter 5 To George Montagu, Esq.

Strawberry Hill, June 11, 1770. (page 29)

My company and I have wished for you very much to-day. The

Duchess of Portland, Mrs. Delany, Mr. Bateman, and your cousin,

Fred. Montagu, dined here. Lord Guildford was very obliging,

and would have come if he dared have ventured. Mrs. Montagu

was at Bill-hill with Lady Gower. The day was tolerable, with

sun enough for the house, though not for the garden. You, I

suppose, will never come again, as I have not a team of horses

large enough to draw you out of the clay of Oxfordshire.

I went yesterday to see my niece(9) in her new principality of

Ham. It delighted me and made me peevish. Close to the

Thames, in the centre of all rich and verdant beauty, it is so

blocked up and barricaded with walls, vast trees, and gates,

that you think yourself an hundred miles off and an hundred

years back. The old furniture is so magnificently ancient,

dreary and decayed, that at every step one's spirits sink, and

all my passion for antiquity could not keep them up. Every

minute I expected to see ghosts sweeping by; ghosts I would not

give sixpence to See, Lauderdales, Tollcmaches, and Maitlands.

There is one old brown gallery full of Vandycks and Lelys,

charming miniatures, delightful Wouvermans, and Polenburghs,

china, japan, bronzes, ivory cabinets, and silver dogs, pokers,

bellows, etc. without end. One pair of bellows is of filigree.

In this state of pomp and tatters my nephew intends it shall

remain, and is so religious an observer of the venerable rites

of his house, that because the gates never were opened by his

father but once for the late Lord Granville, you are locked out

and locked in, and after journeying all round the house, as you

do round an old French fortified town, you are at last admitted

through the stable-yard to creep along a dark passage by the

housekeeper's room, and so by a back-door into the great hall.

He seems as much afraid of water as a cat; for though you might

enjoy the Thames from every window of three sides of the house,

you may tumble into it before you guess it is there. In short,

our ancestors had so little idea of taste and beauty, that I

should not have been surprised if they had hung their pictures

with the painted sides to the wall. Think of such a palace

commanding all the reach of Richmond and Twickenham, with a

domain from the foot of Richmond-hill to Kingston-bridge, and

then imagine its being as dismal and prospectless as if it

stood "on Stanmore's wintry wild!" I don't see why a man should

not be divorced from his prospect as well as from his wife, for

not being able to enjoy it. Lady Dysart frets, but it is not

the etiquette of the family to yield, and @ she must content

herself with her chateau of Tondertentronk as well as she can.

She has another such ample prison in Suffolk, and may be glad

to reside where she is. Strawberry, with all its painted glass

and gloom, looked as gay when I came home as Mrs. Cornelis's

ball-room.

I am very busy about the last volume of my Painters, but have

lost my index, and am forced again to turn over all my Vertues,

forty volumes of miniature MSS.; so that this will be the third

time I shall have made an index to them. Don't say that I am

not persevering, and yet I thought I was grown idle. What

pains one takes to be forgotten! Good-night!

(9) Charlotte, daughter of Sir Edward Walpole, married to Lord

Huntingtower, who had just succeeded to the title of the Earl

of Dysart, on the death of his father.-E.

Letter 6 To George Montagu, Esq.

Strawberry Hill, June 29, 1770. (page 30)

Since the sharp mountain will not come to the little hill, the

little hill must go to the mountain. In short, what do you

think of seeing me walk into your parlour a few hours after

this epistle! I had not time to notify myself sooner. The

case is, Princess Amelia has insisted on my going with her to,

that is, meeting her at Stowe on Monday, for a week. She

mentioned it to me some time ago, and I thought I had parried

it; but having been with her at Park-place these two or three

days, she has commanded it so positively that I could not

refuse. Now, as it would be extremely inconvenient to my

indolence to be dressed up in weepers and hatbands by six

o'clock in the morning, and lest I should be taken for chief

mourner going to Beckford's funeral,(10) I trust you will be

charitable enough to give me a bed at Adderbury for one night,

whence I can arrive at Stowe in a decent time, and caparisoned

as I ought to be, when I have lost a brother-in-law(11) and am

to meet a Princess. Don't take me for a Lauson, and think all

this favour portends a second marriage between our family and

the blood-royal; nor that my visit to Stowe implies my

espousing Miss Wilkes. I think I shall die as I am, neither

higher nor lower; and above all things, no more politics. Yet

I shall have many a private smile to myself, as I wander among

all those consecrated and desecrated buildings, and think what

company I am in, and of all that is past; but I must shorten my

letter, or you will not have finished it when I arrive. Adieu!

Yours, a-coming! a-coming!

(10) William Beckford, Esq. Lord Mayor of London, who died on

the 21st of June, during his second mayoralty, in the

sixty-fifth year of his age. On the 5th of the following

month, at a meeting of the Common Council, "a motion being made

and question put, that the statue of the Right Hon. William

Beckford, late Lord Mayor, deceased, be erected in the

Guildhall of this city, with the inscription of his late

address to his Majesty, the was resolved in the affirmative."

The speech here alluded to is the one which the Alderman

addressed to his Majesty on the 23d of May, with reference to

the King's reply--"That he should have been wanting to the

public, as well as to himself, if he had not expressed his

dissatisfaction at the late address." At the end of the

Alderman's speech, in his copy of the City Addresses, Mr. Isaac

Reed has inserted the following note:--"It is a curious fact,

but a true one, that Beckford did not utter one syllable of

this speech. It was penned by Horne Tooke, and by his art put

on the records of the city and on Beckford's statue; as he told

me, Mr. Braithwaite, Mr. Sayers, etc. at the Athenian club.

Isaac Reed." There can be little doubt that the worthy

commentator and his friends were imposed upon. In the Chatham

Correspondence, vol. iii. p. 460, a letter from Sheriff

Townsend to the Earl expressly states, that with the exception

of the words "and necessary" being left out before the word

"revolution," the Lord Mayor's speech in the Public Advertiser

of the preceding day is verbatim the one delivered to the

King.--E.

(11) George third Earl of Cholmondeley. He married, in 1723,

Mary the youngest daughter of @Sir Robert Walpole.-E.

Letter 7 To George Montagu, Esq.

Adderbury, Sunday night, July 1, 1770. (page 32

You will be enough surprised to receive a letter from me dated

from your own house, and may judge of my mortification at not

finding you here; exactly as it happened two years ago. In

short, here I am, and will tell you how I came here; in truth,

not a little against my will. I have been at Park-place with

Princess Amelia, and she insisted on my meeting her at Stowe

to-morrow. She had mentioned it before, and as I have no

delight in a royal progress, and as little in the Seigneur

Temple, I waived the honour and pleasure, and thought I should

hear no more of it. However, the proposal was turned into a

command, and every body told me I could not refuse. Well, I

could not come so near, and not call upon you; besides, it is

extremely convenient to my Lord Castlecomer, for it would have

been horrid to set out at seven o'clock in the morning, full-

dressed, in my weepers, and to step out of my chaise into a

drawing-room. I wrote to you on Friday, the soonest I could

after this was settle(], to notify myself to you, but find I am

arrived before my letter. Mrs. White is all goodness; and

being the first of July, and consequently the middle of winter,

has given me a good fire and some excellent coffee and bread

and butter, and I am as comfortable as possible, except in

having missed you. She insists on acquainting you, which makes

me write this to prevent your coming; for as I must depart at

twelve o'clock to-morrow, it would be dragging you home before

your time for only half an hour, and I have too much regard for

Lord Guildford to deprive him of your company. Don't therefore

think of making this unnecessary compliment. I have treated

your house like an inn, and it will not be friendly, if you do

not make as free with me. I had much rather that you would

take it for a visit that you ought to repay. Make my best

compliments to your brother and Lord Guildford, and pity me for

the six dreadful days that I am going to pass. Rosette is fast

asleep in your chair, or I am sure she would write a

postscript. I cannot say she is either commanded or invited to

be of this royal party; but have me, have my dog.

I must not forget to thank you for mentioning Mrs. Wetenhall,

on whom I should certainly wait with great pleasure, but have

no manner of intention of going into Cheshire. There is not a

chair or stool in Cholmondeley, and my nephew, I believe, will

pull it down. He has not a fortune to furnish or inhabit it;

and, if his uncle should leave him one, he would choose a

pleasanter country. Adieu! Don't be formal with me, and don't

trouble your hand about yours ever.

Letter 8 To George Montagu, Esq.

Strawberry Hill, Saturday night, July 7, 1770. (page 33)

After making an inn of your house, it is but decent to thank

you for my entertainment, and to acquaint you with the result

of my journey. The party passed off much better than I

expected. A Princess at the Heart of a very small set for five

days together did not promise well. However, she was very

good-humoured and easy, and dispensed with a large quantity of

etiquette. Lady Temple is good-nature itself, my lord was very

civil, Lord Besborough is made to suit all sorts of people,

Lady Mary Coke respects royalty too much not to be very

condescending, Lady Anne Howard(12) and Mrs. Middleton filled

up the drawing-room, or rather made it out, and I was so

determined to carry it off as well as I could, and happened to

be in such good spirits, and took such care to avoid politics,

that we laughed a great deal, and had not one cloud the whole

time.

We breakfasted at half an hour after nine; but the Princess did

not appear till it was finished; then we walked in the garden,

or drove about in cabriolets, till it was time to dress; dined

at three, which, though properly proportioned to the smallness

of company to avoid ostentation, lasted a vast While, as the

Princess eats and talks a great deal; then again into the

garden till past seven, when we came in, drank tea and coffee,

and played at pharaoh till ten, when the Princess retired, and

we went to supper, and before twelve to bed. You see there was

great sameness and little vivacity in all this. It was a

little broken by fishing, and going round the park one of the

mornings; but, in reality, the number of buildings and variety

of scenes in the garden, made each day different from the rest,

and my meditations on so historic a spot prevented my being

tired. Every acre brings to one's mind some instance of the

parts or pedantry, of the taste or want of taste, of the

ambition or love of fame, or greatness or miscarriages, of

those that have inhabited, decorated, planned, or visited the

place. Pope, Congreve, Vanbrugh, Kent, Gibbs, Lord Cobham,

Lord Chesterfield, the mob of nephews, the Lytteltons,

Granvilles, Wests, Leonidas Glover, and Wilkes, the late Prince

of Wales, the King of Denmark, Princess Amelia, and the proud

monuments of Lord Chatham's services, now enshrined there, then

anathematized there, and now again commanding there, with the

temple of Friendship, like the temple of Janus, sometimes open

to war, and sometimes shut up in factious cabals--all these

images crowd upon one's memory, and add visionary personages to

the charming scenes, that are so enriched with fanes and

temples, that the real prospects are little less than visions

themselves.

On Wednesday night, a small Vauxhall was acted for us at the

grotto in the Elysian fields, which was illuminated with lamps,

as were the thicket and two little barks on the lake. With a

little exaggeration I could make you believe that nothing was

so delightful. The idea was really pretty; but as my feelings

have lost something of their romantic sensibility, I did not

quite enjoy such an entertainment alfresco so much as I should

have done twenty years ago. The evening was more than cool,

and the destined spot any thing but dry. There were not half

lamps enough, and no music but an ancient militia-man, who

played cruelly on a squeaking tabor and pipe. As our

procession descended the vast flight of' steps into the garden,

in which was assembled a crowd of people from Buckingham and

the neighbouring villages to see the Princess and the show, the

moon shining very bright, I could not help laughing as I

surveyed our troop, which, instead of tripping lightly to such

an Arcadian entertainment, were hobbling down by the

balustrades, wrapt up in cloaks and greatcoats, for fear of

catching cold. The Earl, you know, is bent double, the

Countess very lame; I am a miserable walker, and the Princess,

though as strong as a Brunswick lion, makes no figure in going

down fifty stone stairs. Except Lady Anne, and by courtesy

Lady Mary, we were none of us young enough for a pastoral. We

supped in the grotto, which is as proper to this climate as a

sea-coal fire would be in the dog-days at Tivoli.

But the chief entertainment of the week, at least what was so

to the Princess, was an arch, which Lord Temple has erected to

her honour in the most enchanting of all picturesque scenes.

It is inscribed on one side, 'Amelia Sophia Aug.,' and has a

medallion of her on the other. It is placed on an eminence at

the top of the Elysian fields, in a grove of orange-trees. You

come to it on a sudden, and are startled with delight on

looking through it: you at once see, through a glade, the river

winding at the bottom; from which a thicket arises, arched over

with trees, but opened, and discovering a hillock full of

haycocks, beyond which in front is the Palladian bridge, and

again over that a larger hill crowned with the castle. It is a

tall landscape framed by the arch and the overhovering trees,

and comprehending more beauties of light, shade, and buildings,

than any picture of Albano I ever saw. Between the flattery

and the prospect the Princess was really in Elysium: she

visited her arch four or five times every day, and could not

satiate herself with it. statues of Apollo and the Muses stand

on each side of the arch. One day she found in Apollo's hand

the following lines, which I had written for her, and

communicated to Lord Temple:--

T'other day, with a beautiful frown on her brow,

To the rest of the gods said the Venus of Stowe,

"What a fuss is here made with that arch just erected,

How our temples are slighted, our antirs neglected!

Since yon nymph has appear'd, We are noticed no more,

All resort to her shrine, all her presence adore;

And what's more provoking, before all our faces,

Temple thither has drawn both the Muses and Graces."

"Keep your temper, dear child," Phoebus cried with a smile,

"Nor this happy, this amiable festival spoil.

Can your shrine any longer with garlands be dress'd?

When a true goddess reigns, all the false are suppress'd."

If you will keep my counsel, I will own to you, that originally

the two last lines were much better, but I was forced to alter

them out of decorum, not to be too pagan upon the occasion; in

short, here they are as in the first sketch,--

"Recollect, once before that our oracle ceased,

When a real divinity rose in the East."

So many heathen temples around had made me talk as a Roman poet

would have done: but I corrected my verses, and have made them

insipid enough to offend nobody. Good night! I am rejoiced to

be once more in the gay solitude of my own little Temple. Yours

ever.

(12) Lady Anne Howard, daughter of Henry fourth Earl, and

sister of Frederick fifth Earl of Carlisle.-E.

Letter 9 To The Earl Of Strafford.

Strawberry Hill, July 9, 1770. (page 35)

I am not going to tell you, my dear lord, of the diversions or

honours of Stowe, which I conclude Lady Mary has writ to Lady

Strafford. Though the week passed cheerfully enough, it was

more glory than I should have sought of my own head. The

journeys to Stowe and Park-place have deranged my projects so,

that I don't know where I am, and I wish they have not given me

the gout into the bargain; for I am come back very lame, and

not at all with the bloom that one ought to have imported from

the Elysian field. Such jaunts when one is growing old is

playing with edged-tools, as my Lord Chesterfield, in one of

his Worlds,(13) makes the husband say to his wife, when she

pretends that gray powder does not become her. It is charming

at twenty to play at Elysian fields, but it is no joke at

fifty; or too great a joke. It made me laugh as we were

descending the great flight of steps from the house to go and

sup in the grotto on the banks of Helicon: we were so cloaked

up, for the evening was very cold, and so many of us were

limping and hobbling, that Charon would have easily believed we

were going to ferry over in earnest. It is with much more

comfort that I am writing to your lordship in the great

bow-window of my new round room, which collects all the rays of

the southwest sun, and composes a sort of summer; a feel I have

not known this year, except last Thursday. If the rains should

ever cease, and the weather settle to fine, I shall pay you my

visit at Wentworth Castle; but hitherto the damps have affected

me so much, that I am more disposed to return to London and

light my fire, than brave the humours of a climate so

capricious and uncertain, in the country. I cannot help

thinking it grows worse; I certainly remember such a thing as

dust: nay, I still have a clear idea of it, though I have seen

none for some years, and should put some grains in a bottle for

a curiosity, if it should ever fly again.

News I know none. You may be sure it was a subject carefully

avoided at Stowe; and Beckford's death had not raised the glass

or spirits of the master of the house. The papers make one

sick with talking of that noisy vapouring fool, as they would

of Algernon Sidney.

I have not happened to see your future nephew, though we have

exchanged visits. It was the first time I had been at

Marble-hill, since poor Lady Suffolk's death; and the

impression was so uneasy, that I was not sorry not to find him

at home. Adieu, my good lord! Except seeing you both, nothing

can be more agreeable than to hear of yours and Lady

Strafford's health, who, I hope, continues perfectly well.

(13) No. 18. A Country Gentleman's Tour to Paris with his

Family.-E.

Letter 10 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.

Arlington Street, July 12, 1770. (page 36)

Reposing under my laurels! No, no, I am reposing in a much

better tent, under the tester of my own bed. I am not obliged

to rise by break of day and be dressed for the drawing-room; I

may saunter in my slippers till dinner-time, and not make bows

till my back is as much out of joint as my Lord Temple's. In

short, I should die of the gout or fatigue, if I was to be

Polonius to a Princess for another week. Twice a-day we made a

pilgrimage to almost every heathen temple in that province that

they call a garden; and there is no sallying out of the house

without descending a flight of steps as high as St. Paul's. My

Lord Besborough would have dragged me up to the top of the

column, to see all the kingdoms of the earth; but I would not,

if he could have given them to me. To crown all, because we

live under the line, and that we were all of us giddy young

creatures, of near threescore, we supped in a grotto in the

Elysian fields, and were refreshed with rivers of dew and

gentle showers that dripped from all the trees, and put us in

mind of the heroic ages, when kings and queens were shepherds

and shepherdesses, and lived in caves, and were wet to the skin

two or three times a-day. Well! thank Heaven, I am emerged

from that Elysium, and once more in a Christian country!--Not

but, to say the truth, our pagan landlord and landlady were

very obliging, and the party went off much better than I

expected. We had no very recent politics, though volumes about

the Spanish war; and as I took care to give every thing a

ludicrous turn as much as I could, the Princess was diverted,

the six days rolled away, and the seventh is my sabbath; and I

promise you i will do no manner of work, I, nor my cat, nor my

dog, nor any thing that is mine. For this reason, I entreat

that the journey to Goodwood may not take place before the 12th

of August, when I will attend you. But this expedition to

Stowe has quite blown up my intended one to Wentworth Castle: I

have not resolution enough left for such a journey. Will you

and Lady Ailesbury come to Strawberry before, or after

Goodwood? I know you like being dragged from home as little as

I do; therefore you shall place that visit just when it is most

convenient to you.

I came to town the night before last, and am just returning.

There are not twenty people in all London. Are not YOU in

despair about the summer? It is horrid to be ruined in coals in

June and July. Adieu. Yours ever.

Letter 11 To George Montagu, Esq.

Strawberry Hill, July 14, 1770. (page 37)

I see by the papers this morning that Mr. Jenkinson(14) is

dead. He had the reversion of my place, which would go away,

if I should lose my brother. I have no pretensions to ask it,

and you know It has long been my fixed resolution not to accept

it. But as Lord North is your particular friend, I think it

right to tell you, that you may let him know what it is worth,

that he may give it to one of his own sons, and not bestow it

on somebody else, without being apprised of its value. I have

seldom received less than fourteen hundred a-year in money, and

my brother, I think, has four more from it. There are besides

many places in the gift of the office, and one or two very

considerable. Do not mention this but to Lord North, or Lord

Guilford. It is unnecessary, I am sure, for me to say to you,

but I would wish them to be assured that in saying this, I am

incapable of, and above any finesse, or view, to myself. I

refused the reversion for myself several years ago, when Lord

Holland was secretary of state, and offered to obtain it for

me. Lord Bute, I believe, would have been very glad to have

given it to me, before he gave it to Jenkinson; but I say it

very seriously, and you know me enough to be certain I am in

earnest, that I would not accept it upon any account. Any

favour Lord North will do for you will give me all the

satisfaction I desire. I am near fifty-three; I have neither

ambition nor interest to gratify. I can live comfortably for

the remainder of my life, though I should be poorer by fourteen

hundred pounds a-year; but I should have no comfort if, in the

dregs of life, I did any thing that I would not do when I was

twenty years younger. I will trust to you, therefore, to make

Use of this information in the friendly manner I mean it, and

to prevent my being hurt by its being taken otherwise than as a

design to serve those to whom you wish well. Adieu! Yours

ever.

(14) Charles Jenkinson, at this time one of the lords of the

treasury. In 1786, He was created Baron Hawkesbury, and in

1796 advanced to the dignity of Earl of Liverpool.-E.

Letter 12 To George Montagu, Esq.

Strawberry Hill, Sunday, [July 15, 1770.] (page 38)

I am sorry I wrote to you last night, for I find it is Mrs.

Jenkinson(15) that is dead, and not Mr.; and therefore I should

be glad to have this arrive time enough to prevent your

mentioning the contents of my letter. In that case, I should

not be concerned to have given you that mark of my constant

good wishes, nor to have talked to you of my affairs, which are

as well in your breast as my own. They never disturb me; for

my mind has long taken its stamp, and as I shall leave nobody

much younger than myself behind me for whom I am solicitous, I

have no desire beyond being easy for the rest of my life I

could not be so if I stooped to have obligations to any man

beyond what it would ever be in my power to return. When I was

in Parliament, I had the additional reason of choosing to be

entirely free; and my strongest reason of all is, that I will

be at liberty to speak truth both living and dead. This

outweighs all considerations of interest, and will convince

you, though I believe you do not want that conviction, that my

yesterday's letter was as sincere in its resolution as in its

professions to you. Let the matter drop entirely, as it is now

Of no consequence. Adieu! Yours ever.

(15) Amelia, daughter of William Watts, Esq. formerly governor

of Fort William, in Bengal.-E.

Letter 13 To George Montagu, Esq.

Strawberry Hill, Oct. 3, 1770. (page 38)

I am going on in the sixth week of my fit, and having had a

return this morning in my knee, I cannot flatter myself with

any approaching prospect of recovery. The gate of painful age

seems open to me, and I must travel through it as I may! If

you have not written one word for another, I am at a loss to

understand you. You say you have taken a house in London for a

year, that you are gone to Waldeshare for six months, and then

shall come for the winter. Either you mean six weeks, or

differ with most people in reckoning April the beginning of

winter. I hope your pen was in a hurry, rather than your

calculation so uncommon; I certainly shall be glad of your

residing in London. I have long wished to live nearer to you,

but it was in happier days. I am now so dismayed by these

returns of gout, that I can promise myself few comforts in any

future scenes of my life.

I am much obliged to Lord Guildford and Lord North, and was

very sorry that the latter came to see Strawberry in so bad a

day, and when I was so extremely ill, and full of pain, that I

scarce knew he was here; and as my coachman was gone to London,

to fetch me bootikins, there was no carriage to offer him; but,

indeed, in the condition I then was, I was not capable of doing

any of the honours of my house, suffering at once in my hand,

knee, and both feet. I am still lifted out of bed by two

servants; and by their help travel from my bedchamber down to

the couch in my blue room; but I shall conclude, rather than

tire you with so unpleasant a history. Adieu! Yours ever.

Letter 14 To George Montagu, Esq.

Arlington Street, Oct. 16, 1770. (page 39)

At last I have been able to remove to London; but though long

weeks are gone and over since I was seized, I am only able to

creep about upon a flat floor, but cannot go up and down

stairs. However, I have patience, as I can at least fetch a

book for myself', instead of having a servant bring me a wrong

one. I am much obliged to Lord Guildford for his goodness to

me, and beg my thanks to him. When you go to Canterbury, pray

don't wake the Black Prince. I am very unwarlike, and desire

to live the rest of my time upon the stock of glory I saved to

my share Out Of the last war. I know not more news than I did

at Strawberry; there are not more people in town than I saw

there, and I intend to return thither on Friday or Saturday.

Adieu! Yours ever.

Letter 15 To The Earl Of Strafford.

Arlington Street, Oct. 16, 1770. (page 39)

Though I have so very little to say, it is but my duty, my dear

lord, to thank you for your extreme goodness to me and your

inquiring after me. I was very bad again last week, but have

mended so much since Friday night, that I really now believe

the fit is over. I came to town on Sunday, and can creep about

my room even without a stick, which is more felicity to me than

if I had got a white one. I do not aim yet at such preferment

as walking up stairs; but having moulted my stick, I flatter

myself I shall come forth again without being lame. The few I

have seen tell me there is nobody else in town. That is no

grievance to me, when I should be at the mercy of all that

should please to bestow their idle time upon me. I know

nothing of the war-egg, but that sometimes it is to be hatched

and sometimes to be addled.(16) Many folks get into the nest,

and sit as hard upon it as they can, concluding it will produce

a golden chick. As I shall not be a feather the better for it,

I hate that game-breed, and prefer the old hen Peace and her

dunghill brood. My compliments to my lady and all her poultry.

(16) The dispute with Spain relative to the possession of the

Falkland Islands, had led to a considerable augmentation both

of the army and navy; which gave an appearance of authenticity

to the rumours of war which were now in circulation.-E.

Letter 16 To The Earl Of Charlemont.(17)

Arlington Street, Oct. 17, 1770. (page 40)

My lord,

I am very glad your lordship resisted your disposition to make

me an apology for doing me a great honour; for, if you had not,

the Lord knows where I should have found words to have made a

proper return. Still you have left me greatly in your debt.

It is very kind to remember me, and kinder to honour me with

your commands: they shall be zealously obeyed to the utmost of

my little credit; for an artist that your lordship patronises

will, I imagine, want little recommendation, besides his own

talents. It does not look, indeed, like very prompt obedience,

when I am yet guessing only at Mr. Jervais's merit; but though

he has lodged himself within a few doors of me, I have not been

able to get to him, having been confined near two months with

the gout, and still keeping my house. My first visit shall be

to gratify my duty and curiosity. I am sorry to say, and beg

your lordship's pardon for the confession, that, however high

an opinion I have of your taste in the arts, I do not equally

respect your judgment in books. it is in truth a defect that

you have in common with the two great men who are the

respective models of our present parties--

"The hero William, and the martyr Charles."

You know what happened to them after patronising Kneller and

Bernini--

"One knighted Blackmore, and one pensioned Quarles."

After so saucy an attack, my lord, it is time to produce my

proof. It lies in your own postscript, where you express a

curiosity to see a certain tragedy, with a hint that the other

works of the same author have found favour in your sight, and

that the piece ought to have been sent to you. But, my lord,

even your approbation has not made that author vain; and for

the lay in question, it has so many perils to encounter, that

it never thinks of producing itself. It peeped out of its

lurking corner once or twice; and one of those times, by the

negligence of a friend, had like to have been, what is often

pretended in prefaces, stolen, and consigned to the press.

When your lordship comes to England, which, for every reason

but that, I hope will be Soon, you shall certainly see it; and

will then allow, I am sure. how improper it would be for the

author to risk its appearance in public. However, unworthy as

that author may be, from his talents, of your lordship's

favour, do not let its demerits be confounded with the esteem

and attachment with which he has the honour to be, my lord,

your lordship's most devoted servant.

(17) James Caulfield, Earl of Charlemont, an Irish nobleman,

distinguished for his literary taste and patriotism. Of him

Mr. Burke said, ,He is a man of such polished manners, of a

mind so truly adorned and disposed to the adoption of whatever

is excellent and praiseworthy, that to see and converse with

him would alone induce me, or might induce any one who relishes

such qualities, to pay a visit to Ireland." He died in 1799,

and in 1810, his Memoirs were published by Francis Hardy, Esq.

in a quarto volume.-E.

Letter 17 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Arlington Street, Nov. 15, 1770. ((page 41)

Dear sir,

If you have not engaged your interest in Cambridgeshire, you

will oblige me much by bestowing it on young Mr. Brand, the son

of my particular acquaintance, and our old schoolfellow. I am

very unapt to trouble my head about elections, but wish success

to this.

If you see Bannerman, I should be glad you would tell him that

I am going to print the last volume of my Painters, and should

like to employ him again for some of the heads, if he cares to

undertake them: though there will be a little trouble as he

does not reside in London. I am in a hurry, and am forced to

be brief, but am always glad to hear of you, and from you.

Yours most sincerely.

letter 18 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Arlington Street, Nov. 20, 1770. (page 41)

I believe our letters crossed one another without knowing it.

Mine, it seems, was quite unnecessary, for I find Mr. Brand has

given up the election. Yours was very kind and obliging, as

they always are. Pray be so good as to thank Mr. Tyson for me

a thousand times; I am vastly pleased with his work, and hope

he will give me another of the plates for my volume of heads

(for I shall bind up his present), and I by no means relinquish

his promise of a complete set of his etchings, and of a visit

to Strawberry Hill. Why should it not be with you and Mr.

Essex, whom I shall be very glad to see--but what do you talk

of a single day? Is that all you allow me in two years?

I rejoice to see Mr. Bentham's advertisement at last. I depend

on you, dear Sir, for procuring me his book(18) the instant it

is possible to have it. Pray make my compliments to all that

good family. I am enraged, and almost in despair, at Pearson

the glass-painter, he is so idle and dissolute. He has done

very little of the window, though what he has done is glorious,

and approaches very nearly to Price.

My last volume of Painters begins to be printed this week; but,

as the plates are not begun, I doubt it will be long before the

whole is ready. I mentioned to you in my last Thursday's

letter a hint about Bannerman, the engraver. Adieu!

(18) The "History and Antiquities of the Conventual and

Cathedral Church at Ely," which appeared in the following

year.-E.

Letter 19 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Arlington Street, Dec. 20, 1770. (page 42)

Dear Sir

I am very zealous, as you know, for the work; but I agree with

you in expecting very little success from the plan.(19)

Activity is the best implement in such undertakings, and that

seems to be wanting; and, without that, it were vain to think

of who would be at the expense. I do not know whether it were

not best that Mr. Essex should publish his remarks as simply as

he can. For my own part, I can do no more than I have done,-

-sketch out the plan. I grow too old, and am grown too

indolent, to engage in any more works: nor have I time. I wish

to finish some things I have by me, and to have done. The last

volume of my Anecdotes, of which I was tired, is completed and

with them I shall take my leave of publications. The last

years of one's life are fit for nothing but idleness and quiet,

and I am as indifferent to fame as to politics.

I can be of as little use to Mr. Granger in recommending him to

the Antiquarian Society. I dropped my attendance there four or

five years ago, from being sick of their ignorance and

stupidity, and have not been three times amongst them since.

They have chosen to expose their dullness to the world, and

crowned it with Dean Milles's(20) nonsense. I have written a

little answer to the last, which you shall see, and then wash

my hands of them.

To say the truth, I have no very sanguine expectation about the

Ely window. The glass-painter, though admirable, proves a very

idle worthless fellow, and has yet scarce done any thing of

consequence. I gave Dr. Nichols notice of his character, but

found him apprised of it. The Doctor, however, does not

despair, but pursues him warmly. I wish it may succeed!

If you go over to Cambridge, be so good as to ask Mr. Grey when

he proposes being in town; he talked of last month. I must beg

you, too, to thank Mr. Tyson for his last letter. I can say

no more to the Plan than I have said. If he and Mr. Essex

should like to come to town, I shall be very willing to talk it

over with them, but I can by no means think of engaging in any

part of the composition.

These holidays I hope to have time to arrange my drawings, and

give bannerman some employment towards my book, but I am in no

hurry to have it appear, as it speaks of times so recent; for

though I have been very tender of not hurting any living

relations of the artists, the latter were in general so

indifferent, that I doubt their families will not be very well

content with the coldness of the praises I have been able to

bestow. This reason, with my unwillingness to finish the work,

and the long interval between the composition of this and the

other volumes, have, I doubt, made the greatest part a very

indifferent performance. An author, like other mechanics,

never does well when he is tired of his profession.

I have been told that, besides Mr. Tyson, there are two other

gentlemen engravers at Cambridge. I think their names are

Sharp or Show, and Cobbe, but I am not at all sure of either.

I should be glad, however, if I could procure any of their

portraits; and I do not forget that I am already in your debt.

Boydell is going to recommence a suite of illustrious heads,

and I am to give him a list of indubitable portraits of

remarkable persons that have never been engraved; but I have

protested against his receiving two sorts; the one, any old

head of a family, when the person was moderately considerable;

the other, spurious or doubtful heads; both sorts apt to be

sent in by families who wish to crowd -their own names into the

work; as was the case more than once in Houbraken's set, and of

which honest Vertue often complained to me. The Duke of

Buckingham, Carr, Earl of Somerset, and Thurloe, in that list,

are absolutely not genuine--the first is John Digby Earl of

Bristol. Yours ever.

(19) Mr. Essex's projected History of Gothic Architecture.

See vol. iii. Letter 366 to the Rev. Mr. Cole, Aug. 12,

1769.-E.

(20) Dr. Jeremiah Milles, dean of Exeter, many years president

of the Antiquarian Society. He engaged ardently in the

Chatterton controversy, and published the whole of the poems

purporting to be written by Rowley, with a glossary; thereby

proving himself a fit subject for that chef-d'oeuvre of wit and

poetry, the Archaeological Epistle, written by Mason.

Walpole's answer is entitled, "Reply to the Observations on the

Remarks of the Rev. Dr. Milles, Dean of Exeter and President

of the Society of Antiquaries, on the Wardrobe Account of 1483,

etc." It is inserted in the second volume of his collected

Works-E.

Letter 20 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.

Arlington Street, Christmas-day. (page 43)

If poplar-pines ever grow,(21) it must be in such a soaking

season as this. I wish you would send half-a-dozen by some

Henley barge to meet me next Saturday at Strawberry Hill, that

they may be as tall as the Monument by next summer. My

cascades give themselves the airs of cataracts, and Mrs. Clive

looks like the sun rising out of the ocean. Poor Mr.

Raftor(22) is tired to death of their solitude; and, as his

passion is walking, he talks with rapture of the brave rows of

lamps all along the street, just as I used formerly to think no

trees beautiful without lamps to them, like those at Vauxhall.

As I came to town but to dinner, and have not seen a soul, I do

not KNOW whether there is any news. I am just going to the

Princess,(23) where I shall hear all there is. I went to King

Arthur(24) on Saturday, and was tired to death, both of the

nonsense of the piece and the execrable performance, the

singers being still worse than the actors. The scenes are

little better (though Garrick boasts of rivalling the French

Opera,) except a pretty bridge, and a Gothic church with

windows of painted glass. This scene, which should be a

barbarous temple of Woden, is a perfect cathedral, and the

devil officiates at a kind of high-mass! I never saw greater

absurdities. Adieu!

(21) The first poplar-pine (or, as they have since been called,

Lombardy poplar) planted in England was at Park-place, on the

bank of the river near the great arch. It was a cutting

brought from Turin by Lord Rochford in his carriage, and

planted by General Conway's own hand.

(22) Brother of Mrs. Clive. He had been an actor himself, and,

when his sister retired from the stage, lived with her in the

house Mr. Walpole had given her at Twickenham.

(23( The Princess Amelia.

(24) Dryden's dramatic opera of King Arthur, or the British

Worthy, altered by Garrick, was this year brought out at Drury

Lane, and, by the aid of scenery, was very successful.-E.

Letter 21 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.

Arlington Street, Dec. 29, 1770. (page 44)

The trees came safe: I thank you for them: they are gone to

Strawberry, and I am going to plant them. This paragraph would

not call for a letter, but I have news for you of importance

enough to dignify a despatch. The Duc de Choiseul is fallen!

The express from Lord Harcourt arrived yesterday morning; the

event happened last Monday night, and the courier set out so

immediately, that not many particulars are yet known. The Duke

was allowed but three hours to prepare himself, and ordered to

retire to his seat at Chanteloup: but some letters say, "il ira

plus loin." The Duc de Praslin is banished, too, and Chatelet

is forbidden to visit Choiseul. Chatelet was to have had the

marine; and I am Sure is no loss to us. The Chevalier de Muy

is made secretary of state pour la guerre;(25) and it is

concluded that the Duc d'Aiguillon is prime-minister, but was

not named so in the first hurry. There! there is a revolution!

there is a new scene opened! Will it advance the war? Will it

make peace? These are the questions all mankind is asking.

This whale has swallowed up all gudgeon-questions. Lord

Harcourt writes, that the d'Aiguillonists had officiously taken

opportunities of assuring him, that if they prevailed it would

be peace; but in this country we know that opponents turned

ministers can change their language It is added, that the

morning of Choiseul's banishment'(26) the King said to him,

"Monsieur, je vous ai dit que je ne voulais point la guerre."

Yet how does this agree with Franc`es's(27) eager protestations

that Choiseul's fate depended on preserving the peace? How

does it agree with the Comptroller-general's offer of finding

funds for the war, and of Choiseul's proving he could not?--But

how reconcile half the politics one hears? De Guisnes and

Franc`es sent their excuses to the Duchess of Argyle last

night; and I suppose the Spaniards, too; for none of them were

there.--Well! I shall let all this bustle cool for two days;

for what Englishman does not sacrifice any thing to go his

Saturday out of town? And yet I am very much interested in

this event; I feel much for Madame de Choiseul, though nothing

for her Corsican husband; but I am in the utmost anxiety for my

dear old friend,(28) who passed every evening with the Duchess,

and was thence in great credit; and what is worse, though

nobody, I think, can be savage enough to take away her pension,

she may find great difficulty to get it paid--and then her poor

heart is so good and warm, that this blow on her friends, at

her great age, may kill her.(29) I have had no letter, nor had

last post--whether it was stopped, or whether she apprehended

the event, as I imagine--for every one observed, on Tuesday

night, at your brother's, that Franc`es could not open his

mouth. In short, I am most seriously alarmed about her.

You have seen in the papers the designed arrangements in the

law.(30) They now say there is some hitch; but I suppose it

turns on some demands, and so will be got over by their being

granted. Mr. Mason, the bard, gave me yesterday, the enclosed

memorial, and begged I would recommend it to you. It is in

favour of a very ingenious painter. Adieu! the sun shines

brightly; but it is one o'clock, and it will be set before I

get to Twickenham. Yours ever.

(25) The Chevalier, afterwards Mar`echal de Muy, was offered

that place, but declined it. He eventually filled it in the

early part of the reign of Louis XVI.-E.

(26) The Duc de Choiseul was dismissed from the ministry

through the intrigues of Madame du Barry, who accused him of an

improper correspondence with Spain.-- E.

(27) Then charg`e des affaires from the French court in London.

(28) It appears by Madame du Deffand's Letters to Walpole, that

she had addressed to him, on the 27th of December, one of

considerable length, filled with details relative to the

dismissal of the Duc de Choiseul, which took place on the 24th,

and the appointment of his successor; but this letter is

unfortunately lost.-E.

(29) By the reduction which the Abb`e de Terrai, when he first

entered upon the controle g`en`eral, made upon all pensions,

Madame du Deffand had lost three thousand livres of income. To

her letter of the 2d of February 1771, announcing this

diminution, Walpole made the following generous reply:--"Je ne

saurois souffrir une telle diminution de votre bien. O`u

voulez-vous faire des retranchemens? O`u est-il possible que

vous en fassiez? Ne daignez pas fire un pas, s'il n'est pas

fait, pour remplacer vos trois Mille livres. Ayez assez

d'amiti`e pour moi pour les accepter de ma part. Accordez-moi,

je vous conjure, la gr`ace, que je vous demande aux genoux, et

jouissez de la satisfaction de vous dire, j'ai un ami qui ne

permettra jamais que je me jette aux pieds des grands. Ma

Petite, j'insiste."-E.

(30) Mr. Bathurst was created Lord Apsley, and appointed Lord

Chancellor; Sir William de Grey was made Chief Justice of the

Common Pleas; Mr. Thurlow, attorney-general and Mr. Wedderburn,

solicitor-general.-E.

Letter 22 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Arlington Street, Jan. 10, 1771. (page 45)

As I am acquainted with Mr. Paul Sandby, the brother of the

architect,(31) I asked him if there was a design, as I had

heard, of making a print or prints of King's College Chapel, by

the King's order'! He answered directly, by no means. His

brother made a general sketch of the chapel for the use of the

lectures he reads on architecture at the Royal Academy. Thus,

dear Sir, Mr. Essex may be perfectly easy that there is no

intention of interfering with his work. I then mentioned to

Mr. Sandby Mr. Essex's plan, which he much approved, but said

the plates would cost a great sum. The King, he thought, would

be inclined to patronise the work; but I own I do not know how

to get it laid before him. His own artists would probably

discourage any scheme that might entrench on their own

advantages. Mr. Thomas Sandby, the architect, is the only one

of them I am acquainted with; and Mr. Essex must think whether

he would like to let him into any participation of the work.

If I can get any other person to mention it to his Majesty, I

will; but you know me, and that I have always kept clear of

connexions with courts and ministers, and have no interest with

either, and perhaps my recommendation might do as much hurt as

good, especially as the artists in favour might be jealous Of

One who understands a little of their professions, and is apt

to say what he thinks. In truth, there is another danger,

which is that they might not assist Mr. Essex without views of

profiting of his labours. I am slightly acquainted with Mr.

Chambers,(32) the architect, and have a good opinion of him: if

Mr. Essex approves my communicating his plan to him or Mr.

Sandby, I should think it more likely to succeed by their

intervention, than by any lord of the court; for, at last, the

King would certainly take the opinion of his artists. When you

have talked this over with Mr. Essex, let me know the result.

Till he has determined, there can be no use in Mr. Essex's

coming to town.

Mr. Gray will bring down some of my drawings to Bannerman, and

when you go over to Cambridge, I will beg you now and then to

supervise him. For Mr. Bentham's book, I rather despair of it;

and should it ever appear, he will have had people expect it

too long, which will be of no service to it, though I do not

doubt of its merit. Mr. Gray will show you my answer to"Dr.

Milles.(33) Yours ever.

(31) Paul Sandby, the well-known artist in water-colours, was

brother to Thomas Sandby, who was professor of architecture in

the Royal Academy of London.-E.

(32) Afterwards Sir William Chambers, author of the well-known

"Treatise on Civil Architecture;" a "Dissertation on Oriental

Gardening," etc. In 1775, he was appointed to superintend the

building of Somerset-house, in the Strand.-E.

(33) In the early part of this year, Walpole's house in

Arlington-street was broke open, without his servants being

alarmed; all the locks forced off his drawers, cabinets, etc.

their contents scattered about the rooms, and yet nothing taken

away. In her letter of the 3d of April, Madame du Deffand

says, "Votre aventure fait tenir ici toute sorte de propos: les

uns disent que l'on vous soup`connait d'avoir une

correspondence secr`ete avec M. de Choiseul.-E.

Letter 23 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Arlington Street, May 29, 1771. (page 46)

Dear Sir,

I have but time to write you a line, that I may not detain Mr.

Essex, who is so good as to take charge of this note, and of a

box, which I am sure will give you pleasure, and I beg may give

you a little trouble. It contains the very valuable seven

letters of Edward the sixth to Barnaby Fitzpatrick. Lord

Ossory, to whom they belong, has lent them to me to print, but

to facilitate that, and to prevent their being rubbed or hurt

by the printer, I must entreat your exactness to copy them, and

return them with the copies. I need not desire your particular

care; for you value these things as much as I do, and will be

able to make them out better than I can do, from being so much

versed in old writing. Forgive my taking this liberty with

you, which, I flatter myself, will not be disagreeable. Mr.

Essex and Mr. Tyson dined with me at Strawberry Hill; but could

not stay so long as I wished. The party would have been still

more agreeable if you had made a fourth. Adieu! dear Sir,

yours ever.

Letter 24 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Arlington Street, June 11, 1771. (page 47)

You are very kind, dear Sir, and I ought to be, nay, what is

more, I am ashamed of giving you so much trouble; but I am in

no hurry for the letters. I shall not set out till the 7th of

next month, And it will be sufficient if I receive them a week

before I set out. Mr. C. C. C. C. is very welcome to attack me

about a Duchess of Norfolk. He is even welcome to be in the

right; to the edification I hope of all the matrons at the

Antiquarian Society, who I trust will insert his criticism in

the next volume of their Archaeologia, or Old Women's Logic;

but, indeed, I cannot bestow my time on any more of them, nor

employ myself in detecting witches for vomiting pins. When

they turn extortioners like Mr. Masters,(34) the law should

punish them, not only for roguery, but for exceeding their

province, which our ancestors limited to killing their

neighbour's cow, or crucifying dolls of wax. For my own part,

I am so far from being out of charity with him, that I would

give him a nag or new broom whenever he has a mind to ride to

the Antiquarian sabbat, and preach against me. Though you have

more cause to be angry, laugh -,it him as I do. One has not

life enough to throw away on all the fools and knaves that come

across one. I have often been attacked, and never replied but

to Mr. Hume and Dr. Milles--to the first, because he had a

name; to the second, because he had a mind to have one:--and

yet I was in the wrong, for it was the only way he could attain

one. In truth, it is being too self-interested, to expose only

one's private antagonists, when one lets worse men pass

unmolested. Does a booby hurt me by an attack on me, more than

by any other foolish thing he does? Does not he tease me more

by any thing he says to me, without attacking me, than by any

thing he says against me behind my back? I shall, therefore,

most certainly never inquire after or read Mr. C. C. C. C.'s

criticism, but leave him to oblivion with her Grace of Norfolk,

and our wise society. As I doubt my own writings will soon be

forgotten, I need not fear that those of my answerers will be

remembered.

(34) There is a note on this letter in Cole's handwriting. Mr.

Mason had informed him, that Mr. Masters had lately read a

paper at the Antiquarian Society against some mistake of Mr.

Walpole's respective a Duchess of Norfolk; and he adds, "This I

informed Mr. Walpole of in my letter, and said something to him

of Masters' extortion in making me pay forty pounds towards the

repairing his vicarage-house at Waterbeche, which he pretended

he had fitted up for my reception."

Letter 25 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.(35)

Strawberry Hill, June 17, 1771. (page 48)

I was very sure you would grant my request, if you could, and I

am perfectly satisfied with your reasons; but I do not believe

the parties concerned will be so too, especially the heads of

the family, who are not so ready to serve their relations at

their own expense as gratis. When I see you I will tell you

more, and what I thought I had told you.

You tax me with four days in Bedfordshire; I was but three at

most, and of those the evening I went, and the morning I came

away, made the third day. I will try to see you before I go.

The Edgcumbes I should like and Lady Lyttelton, but Garrick

does not tempt me at all. I have no taste for his perpetual

buffoonery, and am sick of his endless expectation of flattery;

but you who charge me with making a long visit to Lord and Lady

Ossory,--you do not see the mote in your own eye; at least I am

sure Lady Ailesbury does not see that in hers. I could not

obtain a single day from her all last year, and with difficulty

got her to give me a few hours this. There is always an

indispensable pheasantry that must be visited, or some thing

from which she cannot spare four-and-twenty hours. Strawberry

sets this down in its pocket-book. and resents the neglect.

At two miles from Houghton Park is the mausoleum of the Bruces,

where I saw the most ridiculous monument of one of Lady

Ailesbury's predecessors that ever was imagined; I beg she will

never keep such company. In the midst of an octagon chapel is

the tomb of Diana, Countess of Oxford and Elgin. From a huge

unwieldy base of white marble rises a black marble cistern;

literally a cistern that would serve for an eating-room. In

the midst of this, to the knees, stands her ladyship in a white

domino or shroud, with her left hand erect as giving her

blessing. It put me in mind of Mrs. Cavendish when she got

drunk in the bathing-tub. At another church is a kind of

catacomb for the Earls of Kent: there are ten sumptuous

monuments. Wrest and Hawnes are both ugly places; the house at

the former is ridiculously old and bad. The state bedchamber

(not ten feet high) and its drawing-room, are laced with Ionic

columns of spotted velvet, and friezes of patchwork. There are

bushels of deplorable earls and countesses. The garden was

execrable too, but is something mended by Brown. Houghton Park

and Ampthill stand finely: the last is a very good house, and

has a beautiful park. The other has three beautiful old

fronts, in the style of Holland House, with turrets and

loggias, but not so large within. It is the worst contrived

dwelling I ever saw. Upon the whole, I was much diverted with

my journey. On my return I stayed but a single hour in London,

saw no soul, and came hither to meet the deluge. It has rained

all night, and all day; but it is midsummer, consequently

midwinter, and one can expect no better. Adieu!

(35) Now first printed.

Letter 26 To The Earl Of Strafford.

Strawberry Hill, June 20, 1771. (page 49)

I have waited impatiently, my dear lord, for something worth

putting into a letter but trees do not speak in parliament, nor

flowers write in the newspapers; and they are almost the only

beings I have seen. I dined on Tuesday at Notting-hill(36)

with the Countesses of Powis and Holderness, Lord and Lady

Pelham, and Lord Frederick Cavendish--and Pam; and shall go to

town on Friday to meet the same company at Lady Holderness's;

and this short journal comprises almost my whole history and

knowledge.

I must now ask your lordship's and Lady Strafford's commands

for Paris. I shall set out on the 7th of next month. You will

think, though you will not tell me so, that these are Very

juvenile jaunts at my age. Indeed, I should be ashamed if I

went for any other pleasure but that of once more seeing my

dear blind friend, whose much greater age forbids my depending

on seeing more often.(37) It will, indeed, be amusing to

change the scene of politics for though I have done with our

own, one cannot help hearing them--nay, reading them; for, like

flies, they come to breakfast with one's bread and butter. I

wish there was any other vehicle for them but a newspaper; a

place into which, considering how they are exhausted, I am sure

they have no pretensions. The Duc d'Aiguillon, I hear, is

minister. Their politics, some way or other, must end

seriously, either in despotism, a civil war, or assassination.

Methinks, it is playing deep for the power of tyranny. Charles

Fox is more moderate: he only games for an hundred thousand

pounds that he has not.

Have you read the Life of Benvenuto Cellini,(38) my lord? I am

angry with him for being more distracted and wrong-headed than

my Lord Herbert. Till the revival of these two, I thought the

present age had borne the palm of absurdity from all its

predecessors. But I find our contemporaries are quiet good

folks, that only game till they hang themselves, and do not

kill every body they meet in the street. Who would have

thought we were so reasonable?

Ranelagh, they tell me, is full of foreign dukes. There is a

Duc de la Tr`emouille, a Duc d'Aremberg, and other grandees. I

know the former, and am not sorry to be out of his way.

It is not pleasant to leave groves and lawns and rivers for a

dirty town with a dirtier ditch, calling itself the Seine; but

I dare not encounter the sea and bad inns in cold weather.

This consideration will bring me back by the end of August. I

should be happy to execute any commission for your lordship.

You know how earnestly I wish always to show myself your

lordship's most faithful humble servant.

(36) near Kensington. The villa of Lady Mary Coke.

(37) In the February of this-year Madame du Deffand had made

her will, and bequeathed Walpole all her manuscripts-. In her

letter of the 17th, informing him that she had so done, she

says, "Je fis usage de votre 'j'y consens.' J'ai une vraie

satisfaction que cette affaire soit termin`ee, et jamais vous

ne m'avez fait un plus v`eritable plaisir qu'en pronon`cant ces

deux mots."-E.

(38) The celebrated Florentine sculptor, "one of the most

extraordinary men in an extraordinary age," so designated by

Walpole. His Life, written by himself, was first published in

English in 1771, from a translation by Dr. T. Nugent; of which

a new edition, corrected and enlarged, with the notes and

observations of G. P. Carpani, translated by Thomas Roscoe,

appeared in 1822.-E.

Letter 27 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Arlington Street, June 22, 1771. (page 50)

I just write you a line, dear Sir, to acknowledge the receipt

of the box of papers, which is come very safe, and to give you

a thousand thanks for the trouble you have taken. As you

promise me another letter I will wait to answer it.

At present I will only beg another favour, and with less shame,

as it is of a kind you will like to grant. I have lately been

at Lord Ossory's at Ampthill. You know Catherine of Arragon

lived some time there.(39) Nothing remains of the castle, nor

any marks of residence, but a very small bit of her garden. I

proposed to Lord Ossory to erect a cross to her memory on the

spot, and he will. I wish, therefore, you could, from your

collections of books, or memory, pick out an authentic form of

a cross, of a better appearance than the common run. It must

be raised on two or three steps; and if they were octagon,

would it not be handsomer? Her arms must be hung like an order

upon it. Here is something of my idea.(40) The shield

appendant to a collar. We will have some inscriptions to mark

the cause of erection. Adieu! Your most obliged.

(39) After her divorce from Henry the Eighth.

(40) A rough sketch in the margin of the letter.

Letter 28 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Strawberry Hill, June 24, 1771. (page 51)

Dear Sir,

when I wrote to you t'other day, I had not opened the box of

letters, and consequently had not found yours, for which, and

the prints, I give you a thousand thanks; though Count Bryan I

have, and will return to you. Old Walker(41) is very like, and

is valuable for being mentioned in the Dunciad, and a

curiosity, from being mentioned there without abuse.

Your notes are very judicious,(42) and your information most

useful to me in drawing up some little preface to the Letters;

which, however, I shall not have time now to do before my

journey, as I shall set out on Sunday se'nnight. I like your

motto much. The Lady Cecilia's Letters are, as you say, more

curious for the writer than the matter. We know very little of

those daughters of Edward IV. Yet she and her sister

Devonshire lived to be old; especially Cecily, who was married

to Lord Wells; and I have found why: he was first cousin to

Henry VII., who, I suppose, thought it the safest match for

her. I wish I knew all she and her sisters knew of her

brothers, and their uncle Richard III. Much good may it do my

Lord of Canterbury with his parboiled stag! Sure there must be

more curiosities in Bennet Library!

Though your letter is so entertaining and useful to me, the

passage I like best is a promise you make me of a visit in the

autumn with Mr. Essex. Pray put him in mind of it, as I shall

you. It would add much to the obligation if you would bring

two or three of your MS. volumes of collections with you.

Yours ever.

(41) Dr. Richard Walker, vice-master of Trinity College, by

Lambourne.

(42) From King Edward's Journal relating to Mr. Fitzpatrick.

Letter 29 To John Chute, Esq.

Amiens, Tuesday evening, July 9, 1771. (page 51)

I am got no farther yet, as I travel leisurely, and do not

venture to fatigue myself. My voyage was but of four hours. I

was sick only by choice and precaution, and find myself in

perfect health. The enemy, I hope, has not returned to pinch

you again, and that you defy the foul fiend. The weather is

but lukewarm, and I should choose to have all the windows shut,

if my smelling was not much more summerly than my feeling; but

the frowsiness of obsolete tapestry and needlework is

insupportable. Here are old fleas and bugs talking of Louis

Quatorze like tattered refugees in the park, and they make poor

Rosette attend them, whether she will or not. This is a woful

account of an evening in July, and which Monsieur de St.

Lambert has omitted in his Seasons, though more natural than

any thing he has placed there. I f the Grecian religion had

gone into the folly of self-mortification, I suppose the

devotees of Flora would have shut themselves up in a nasty inn,

and have punished their noses for the sensuality of having

smelt to a rose or a honeysuckle.

This is all I have yet to say; for I have had no adventure, no

accident, nor seen a soul but my cousin Richard Walpole, whom I

met on the road and spoke to in his chaise. To-morrow I shall

lie at Chantilly, and be at Paris early on Thursday. The

Churchills are there already. Good night-- and a sweet one to

you!

Paris, Wednesday night, July 10.

I was so suffocated with my inn last night, that I mustered all

my resolution, rose with the alouette this morning, and was in

my chaise by five o'clock I got hither by eight this evening,

tired, but rejoiced; I have had a comfortable dish of tea, and

am going to bed in clean sheets. I sink myself even to my dear

old woman(43) and my sister; for it is impossible to sit down

and be made charming At this time of night after fifteen posts,

and after having been here twenty times before.

At Chantilly I crossed the Countess of Walpole, who lies there

to-night on her way to England. But I concluded she had no

curiosity about me-and I could not brag of more about her-and

so we had no intercourse. I am wobegone to find my Lord F -* *

* in the same hotel. He is as starched as an old-fashioned

plaited neckcloth, and come to suck wisdom from this curious

school of philosophy. He reveres me because I was acquainted

with his father; and that does not at all increase my

partiality to the son.

Luckily, the post departs early to-morrow morning I thought you

would like to hear I was arrived -well. I should be happy to

hear you are so; but do not torment yourself too soon, nor will

I torment you. I have fixed the 26th of August for setting out

on my return. These jaunts are too juvenile. I am ashamed to

look back and remember in what year of Methuselah I was here

first. Rosette Sends her blessing to her daughter. Adieu!

Yours ever.

(43) Madame du Deffand; who, in her letter to Walpole of the

12th of June, had said, "Je sens l'exc`es de votre

complaisance; j'ai tant de joie de l'esp`erance de vous revoir

qu'il me semble que rien ne peut plus m'affliger ni

m'attrister."--E.

Letter 30 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.

Paris, July 30, 1771. (page 52)

I do not know where you are, nor where this will find you, nor

when it will set out to seek you, as I am not certain by whom I

shall send it. It is of little consequence, as I have nothing

material to tell you, but what you probably may have heard.

The distress here is incredible, especially at court. The

King's tradesmen are ruined, his servants starving, and even

angels and archangels cannot get their pensions and salaries,

but sing, "Woe! woe! woe!" instead of Hosannahs. Compi`egne is

abandoned; Villiers-coterets and Chantilly(44) crowded, and

Chanteloup(45) still more in fashion, whither every body goes

that pleases; though, when they ask leave, the answer is, "Je

ne le defends ni le permets." This is the first time that ever

the will of a King of France was interpreted against his

inclination. Yet, after annihilating his Parliament, and

ruining public credit, he tamely submits to be affronted by his

own servants. Madame de Beauveau, and two or three

high-spirited dames, defy this Czar of Gaul- Yet they and their

cabal are as inconsistent on the other hand. They make

epigrams, sing vaudevilles(46) against the mistress, hand about

libels against the Chancellor, and have no more effect than a

sky-rocket; but in three months will die to go to court, and to

be invited to sup with Madame du Barry. The only real struggle

is between the Chancellor(47) and the Duc d'Aiguillon. The

first is false, bold, determined, and not subject to little

qualms. The other is less known, communicates himself to

nobody, is suspected of deep policy and deep designs, but seems

to intend to set out under a mask of very smooth varnish; for

he has just obtained the payment of all his bitter enemy La

Chalotais' pensions and arrears. He has the advantage, too, of

being but moderately detested in comparison of his rival, and,

what he values more, the interest of the mistress.(48) The

Comptroller-general serves both, by acting mischief more

sensibly felt; for he ruins every body but those who purchase a

respite from his mistress.(49) He dispenses bankruptcy by

retail, and will fall, because he cannot even by these means be

useful enough. They are striking off nine millions la caisse

militaire, five from the marine, and one from the afaires

`etrang`eres: yet all this will not extricate them. You never

saw a great nation in so disgraceful a position. Their next

prospect is not better: it rests on an imbecile, both in mind

and body.

July 31.

Mr. Churchill and my sister set out to-night after supper, and

I shall send this letter by them. There are no new books, no

new Plays, no new novels; nay, no new fashions. They have

dragged old Mademoiselle Le Maure out of a retreat of thirty

years, to sing at the Colis`ee, which is a most gaudy Ranelagh,

gilt, painted, and becupided like an Opera, but not calculated

to last as long as Mother Coliseum, being composed of chalk and

pasteboard. Round it are courts of treillage, that serve for

nothing, and behind it a canal, very like a horsepond, on which

there are fireworks and justs. Altogether it is very pretty;

but as there are few nabobs and nabobesses in this country, and

as the middling and common people are not much richer than Job

when he had lost every thing but his patience, the proprietors

are on the point of being ruined, unless the project takes

place that is talked of. It is, to oblige Corneille, Racine,

and Moli`ere to hold their tongues twice a-week, that their

audiences may go to the Colis`ee. This is like our

Parliament's adjourning when senators want to go to Newmarket.

There is a Monsieur Gaillard writing a "History of the

Rivalit`e de la France et de l'Angleterre."(50) I hope he will

not omit this parallel.

The instance of their poverty that strikes me most, who make

political observations by the thermometer of baubles, is, that

there is nothing new in their shops. I know the faces of every

snuff-box and every tea-cup as well as those of Madame du Lac

and Monsieur Poirier. I have chosen some cups and saucers for

my Lady Ailesbury, as she ordered me; but I cannot say they are

at all extraordinary. I have bespoken two cabriolets for her,

instead of six, because I think them very dear, and that she

may have four more if she likes them. I shall bring, too, a

sample of a baguette that suits them. For myself, between

economy and the want of novelty, I have not laid out five

guineas--a very memorable anecdote in the history of my life.

Indeed, the Czarina and I have a little dispute; she has

offered to purchase the whole Crozat collection of pictures, at

which I had intended to ruin myself. The Turks thank her for

it! Apropos, they are sending from hence fourscore officers to

Poland, each of whom I suppose, like Almanzor, can stamp with

his foot and raise an army.

As my sister travels like a Tartar princess with her whole

horde, she will arrive too late almost for me to hear from you

in return to this letter, which in truth requires no answer,

v`u que I shall set out myself on the 26th of August. You will

not imagine that I am glad to save myself the pleasure of

hearing from you; but I would not give you the trouble of

writing unnecessarily. If you are at home, and not in

Scotland, you will judge by these dates where to find me.

Adieu!

P. S. Instead of restoring the Jesuits, they are proceeding to

annihilate the Celestines, Augustines, and some other orders.

(44) The country palaces of the Duke of Orleans and the Prince

of Cond`e; who were in disgrace at court for having espoused

the cause of the Parliament of Paris, banished by the

Chancellor Maupeou.

(45) The country seat of the Duc de Choiseul, to which, on his

ceasing to be first minister, he was banished by the King.

(46) The following `echantillon of these vaudevilles was given

by Madame du Deffand to Walpole:--

"L'avez-vous vue, ma Du Barry,

Elle a ravi mon `ame;

Pour elle j'ai perdu l'esprit,

Des Fran`cais j'ai le bl`ame:

Charmants enfans de la Gourdon,

Est-elle chez vous maintenant?

Rendez-la-moi,

Je suis le Roi,

Soulagez mon martyre;

Rendez-la-moi,

Elle est `a moi,

Je suis son pauvre Sire.

Llavez-vous vue, etc.

"Je sais qu'autrefois les laquais

Ont f`et`e ses jeunes attraits;

Que les cochers,

Les peruquiers,

L'aimaient, l'aimaient d'amour ex`eme,

Mais pas autant que je l'aime.

L'avez-vous vue," etc,-E.

(47) Maupeou.

(48) Madame du Barry.'''

(49) The Abb`e Terrai was comptroller-general of the finances.

His mistress, known in the fashionable circles of Paris by the

name of La Sultane, received money, as it was supposed, in

concert with the Abb`e himself, for every act of favour or

justice solicited from the department over which he presided.-E.

(50) In a letter to Walpole, Madame du Deffand thus speaks of

this work:--"Il m'arrive une bonne fortune apr`es laquelle je

soupirais depuis longtemps: c'est un livre qui me plait

infiniment; il est de M. Gaillard; il a Pour titre 'Rivalit`e

de la France et de l'Angleterre;' il est par chapitres, et

chaque chapitre est les `ev`enemens du r`egne d'un Roi de

France et d'un Roi d'Angleterre contemporains. Il est bien

loin d'`etre fini; il n'en est qu'a Philippe de Valois et

Edouard Trois. Il n'y a que trois volumes; il y en aura

peut-`etre douze ou quinze." The work, which was not completed

till the year 1774, extended to eleven Volumes.-E.

Letter 31 To John Chute, Esq.

Paris, August 5, 1771. ((page 55)

It is a great satisfaction to Me to find by your letter of the

30th, that you have had no return of your gout. I have been

assured here, that the best remedy is to cut one's nails in hot

water. It is, I fear, as certain as any other remedy! It

would at least be so here, if their bodies were of a piece with

their understandings; or if both were as curable as they are

the contrary. Your prophecy, I doubt, is not better founded

than the prescription. I may be lame; but I shall never be a

duck, nor deal in the garbage of the Alley. I envy your

Strawberry tide, and need not say how much I wish I was there

to receive you. Methinks, I should be as glad of a little

grass, as a seaman after a long voyage. Yet English gardening

gains ground here prodigiously-not much at a time, indeed--I

have literally seen one, that is exactly like a tailor's paper

of patterns. There is a Monsieur Boutin, who has tacked a

piece of what he calls an English garden to a set of stone

terraces, with steps of turf. There are three or four very

high hills, almost as high as, and exactly in the shape of, a

tansy pudding. You squeeze between these and a river, that is

conducted at obtuse angles in a stone channel, and supplied by

a pump, and when walnuts Come in I suppose it will be

navigable. In a corner enclosed by a chalk wall are the

samples I mentioned: there is a stripe of grass, another of

corn, and a third en friche, exactly in the order of beds in a

nursery. They have translated Mr. Whately's book,(51) and the

Lord knows what barbarism is going to be laid at our door.

This new anglomanie will literally be mad English.

New arr`ets, new retrenchments, new misery, stalk forth every

day. The Parliament of Besan`con is dissolved; so are the

grenadiers de France. The King's tradesmen are all bankrupt;

no pensions are paid, and every body is reforming their suppers

and equipages. Despotism makes converts faster than ever

Christianity did. Louis Quinze is the true rex

Ckristianissimus, and has ten times more success than his

dragooning great-grandfather. Adieu, my dear Sir! Yours most

faithfully.

Friday, 9th.

This was to have gone by a private hand, but cannot depart till

Monday; so I may be continuing my letter till I bring it

myself. I have been again at the Chartreuse; and though it was

the sixth time, I am more enchanted with those paintings(52)

than ever. If it is not the first work in the world, and must

yield to the Vatican, yet in simplicity and harmony it beats

Raphael himself. There is a vapour over all the pictures, that

makes them more natural than any representation of objects-1

cannot conceive bow it is effected! You see them through the

shine of a southeast wind. These poor folks do not know the

inestimable treasure they possess--but they are perishing these

pictures, and one gazes at them as at a setting sun. There is

the purity of a Racine in them, but they give me more pleasure-

-and I should much sooner be tired of the poet than of the

painter.

It is very singular that I have not half the satisfaction in

going into C, churches and convents that I used to have. The

consciousness that the vision is dispelled, the want of fervour

so obvious in the religious, the solitude that one knows

proceeds from contempt, not from contemplation, make those

places appear like abandoned theatres destined to destruction.

The monks trot about as if they had not long to stay there; and

what used to be the holy gloom is now but dirt and darkness.

There is no more deception than in a tragedy acted by

candlesnuffers. One is sorry to think that an empire of common

sense would not be very picturesque; for, as there is nothing

but taste that can compensate for the imagination of madness, I

doubt there will never be twenty men of taste for twenty

thousand madmen. The world will no more see Athens, Rome, and

the Medici again, than a succession of five good emperors, like

Nerva, Trajan, Adrian, and the two Antonines.

August 13.

Mr. Edmonson called on me; and, as he sets on to-morrow, I can

safely trust my letter to him. I have, I own,, been much

shocked at reading Gray's(53) death in the papers. 'Tis an

hour that makes one forget any subject of complaint, especially

towards one with whom I lived in friendship from thirteen years

old. As self lies so rooted in self, no doubt the nearness of

our ages made the stroke recoil to my own breast; and having so

little expected his death, it is Plain how little I expect my

own. Yet to you, who of all men living are the most forgiving,

I need not excuse the concern I feel. I fear most men ought to

apologize for their want of feeling, instead of palliating that

sensation when they have it. I thought that what I had seen of

the world had hardened my heart; but I find that it had formed

my language, not extinguished my tenderness. In short, I am

really shocked--nay, I am hurt at my own weakness, as I

perceive that when I love any body, it is for my life; and I

have had too Much reason not to wish that such a disposition

may very seldom be put to the trial.(54) You, at least, are

the only person to whom I would venture to make such a

confession.

Adieu! my dear Sir! Let me know when I arrive, which will be

about the last day of the month, when I am likely to see YOU.

I have much to say to you. Of being here I am most heartily

tired, and nothing but the dear old woman should keep me here

an hour-I am weary of them to death-but that is not new! Yours

ever.

(51) Entitled "An Essay on Design in Gardening," Mr. Whately

was at this time under-secretary of state, and member for

Castle Rising. In January, 1772, he was made keeper of the

King's private roads, gates, and bridges, and died in the June

following.-E.

(52) The Life of St. Bruno, painted by Le Soeur, in the

cloister of the Chartreuse.

(53) On the 24th of July," says Mr. Mitford, "Gray, while at

dinner in the college hall, was seized with an attack of the

gout in his stomach. The violence of the disease resisted all

the powers of medicine: on the 29th he was seized with

convulsions, which returned more violently on the 30th; and he

expired on the evening of that day, in the fifty-fifth year of

his age." Works, Vol. i, P. lvi-E.

(54) "It will appear from this and the two following letters,"

observes Mr. Mitford, "that Walpole's affection and friendship

for Gray was warm and sincere after the reconcilement took

place; and indeed, before that, and immediately after the

quarrel, I believe his regard for Gray was undiminished."

Works, vol. iv. p. 2 12-E.

Letter 32 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.

Paris, August 11, 1771. (page 57)

You will have seen, I hope, before now, that I have not

neglected writing to you. I sent you a letter by my sister,

but doubt she has been a great while upon the road, as they

travel with a large family. I was not sure where you was, and

would not write at random by the post.

I was just going out when I received yours and the newspapers.

I was struck in a most sensible manner, when, after reading

your letter, I saw in the newspapers that Gray is dead! So very

ancient an intimacy(55) and, I suppose, the natural reflection

to self on losing a person but a year older, made me absolutely

start in my chair. It seemed more a corporal than a mental

blow; and yet I am exceedingly concerned for him, and every

body must be so for the loss of such a genius. He called on me

but two or three days before I came hither; he complained of

being ill, and talked of the gout in his stomach--but I

expected his death no more than my own--and yet the same death

will probably be mine.(56) I am full of all these

reflections-but shall not attrist you with them: only do not

wonder that my letter will be short, when my mind is full of

what I do not give vent to. It was but last night that I was

thinking how few persons last, if one lives to be old, to whom

one can talk without reserve. It is impossible to be intimate

with the Young, because they and the old cannot converse on the

same common topics; and of the old that survive, there are few

one can commence a friendship with, because one has probably

all one's life despised their heart or their understandings.

These are the steps through which one passes to the unenviable

lees of life!

I am very sorry for the state of poor Lady Beauchamp. It

presages ill. She had a prospect of long happiness. Opium is

a very false friend. I will get you Bougainville's book.(57)

I think it is on the Falkland Isles, for it cannot be on those

just discovered; but as I set out to-morrow se'nnight, and

probably may have no opportunity sooner of sending it, I will

bring it myself. Adieu! Yours ever.

(55) It will b recollected, that General Conway travelled with

Gray and Walpole in 1739, and separated from them at Geneva.-E.

(56) Gray's last letter to Walpole was dated March 17, 1771; it

contained the following striking passage:--"He must have a very

strong stomach that can digest the crambe recocta of Voltaire.

Atheism is a vile dish, though all the cooks of France combine

to make new sauces to it. As to the soul, perhaps they may

have none on the Continent; but I do think we have such things

in England; Shakspeare, for example, I believe, had several to

his own share. As to the Jews (though they do not eat pork), I

like them, because they are better Christians than Voltaire."

Works vol. iv. p. 190.-E.

(57) An English translation of the book appeared in 1773, under

the title of "History of a Voyage to the Malonine, or Falkland

Islands, made in 1763 and 1764, under the command of M. de

Bougainville; and of two Voyages to the Straits of Magellan,

with an account of the Patagonians; translated from Don

Pernety's Historical Journal, written in French." In the same

year was published a translation of Bougainville's "Voyage

autour du Monde." This celebrated circumnavigator retired from

the service in 1790. He afterwards was made Count and Senator

by Napoleon Buonaparte, became member of the National Institute

and of the Royal Society of London, and died at Paris in 1811,

at the age of eighty-two.-E.

Letter 33 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Paris, August 12, 1771. (page 53)

I am excessively shocked at reading in the papers that Mr. Gray

is dead! I wish to God you may be able to tell me it is not

true! Yet in this painful uncertainty I must rest some days!

None of my acquaintance are in London--I do not know to whom to

apply but to you--alas! I fear in vain! Too many circumstances

speak it true!--the detail is exact;--a second paper arrived by

the same post, and does not contradict it--and, what is worse,

I saw him but four or five days before I came hither: he had

been to Kensington for the air, complained of the gout flying

about him, of sensations of it in his stomach: I, indeed,

thought him changed, and that he looked ill--still I had not

the least idea of his being in danger--I started up from my

chair when I read the paragraph--a cannon-ball would not have

surprised me more! The shock but ceased, to give way to my

concern; and my hopes are too ill-founded to mitigate it. If

nobody has the charity to write to me, my anxiety must continue

till the end of the month, for I shall set out on my return on

the 26th; and unless you receive this time enough for your

answer to leave London on the 20th, in the evening, I cannot

meet it till I find it in Arlington-street, whither I beg you

to direct it.

If the event is but too true, pray add to this melancholy

service, that of telling me any circumstance you know of his

death. Our long, very long friendship, and his genius, must

endear to me every thing that relates to him. What writings

has he left? Who are his executors?(58) I should earnestly

wish, if he has destined any thing to the public, to print it

at my press--it would do me honour, and would give me an

opportunity of expressing what I feel for him. Methinks, as we

grow old, our only business here is to adorn the graves of our

friends, or to dig our own! Adieu, dear Sir! Yours ever.

P. S. I heard this unhappy news but last night; and have just

been told, that Lord Edward Bentinck goes in haste to-morrow to

England; so that you will receive this much sooner than I

expected: still I must desire you to direct to

Arlington-street, as by far the surest conveyance to me.

(58) His executors were, Mason the poet and the Rev. Dr. Brown,

master of Pembroke Hall. "He hath desired," wrote Dr. Brown to

Dr. Wharton, "to be buried near his mother, at Stoke, near

Windsor, and that one of his executors would see him laid in

the grave; a melancholy task, which must come to my share, for

Mr. Mason is not here." Works, vol. iv. p. 206.-E.

Letter 34 To The Earl Of Strafford.

Paris, August 25, 1771. (page 59)

I have passed my biennial six weeks here, my dear lord, and am

preparing to return as soon as the weather will allow me. It

is some comfort to the patriot virtue, envy, to find this

climate worse than our own. There were four very hot days at

the end of last month, which, you know, with us northern people

compose a summer: it has rained half this, and for these three

days there has been a deluge, a storm, and extreme cold. Yet

these folks shiver in silk, and sit with their Windows open

till supper-time. Indeed, firing is very dear, and nabobs very

scarce. Economy and retrenchment are the words in fashion, and

are founded in a little more than caprice. I have heard no

instance of luxury but in Mademoiselle Guimard, a favourite

dancer, who is building a palace: round the salle `a manger

there are windows that open upon hot-houses, that are to

produce flowers all winter. That is worthy of * * * * * *.

There is a finer dancer, whom Mr. Hobart is to transplant to

London; a Mademoiselle Heinel or Ingle, a Fleming.(59) She is

tall, perfectly made, very handsome, and has a set of attitudes

copied from the classics. She moves as gracefully slow as

Pygmalion's statue when it was Coming to life, and moves her

leg round as imperceptibly as if she was dancing in the zodiac.

But she is not Virgo.

They make no more of breaking parliaments here than an English

mob does of breaking windows. It is pity people are so

ill-sorted. If this King and ours could cross over and figure

in, Louis XV. would dissolve our parliament if Polly Jones did

but say a word to him. They have got into such a habit of it

here, that you would think a parliament was a polypus: they cut

it in two, and by next morning half of it becomes a whole

assembly. This has literally been the case at Besan`con.(60)

Lord and Lady Barrymore, who are in the highest favour at

Compiegne, will be able to carry over the receipt.

Everybody feels in their own way. My grief is to see the

ruinous Condition of the palaces and pictures. I was yesterday

at the Louvre. Le Brun's noble gallery, where the battles of

Alexander are, and of which he designed the ceiling, and even

the shutters, bolts, and locks, is in a worse condition than

the old gallery at Somerset-house. It rains in upon the

pictures, though there are stores of much more valuable pieces

than those of Le Brun. Heaps of glorious works by Raphael and

all the great masters are piled up and equally neglected at

Versailles. Their care is not less destructive in private

houses. The Duke of Orleans' pictures and the Prince of

Monaco's have been cleaned, and varnished so thick that you May

see your face in them; and some of them have been transported

from board to cloth, bit by bit, and the seams filled up with

colour; so that in ten years they will not be worth sixpence.

It makes me as peevish as if I was posterity! I hope your

lordship's works will last longer than these of Louis XIV. The

glories of his si`ecle hasten fast to their end, and little

will remain but those of his authors.

(59) "It was at this time," says Dr. Burney, "that dancing

seemed first to gain the ascendant over music, by the superior

talents of Mademoiselle Heinel, whose grace and execution were

so perfect as to eclipse all other excellence. Crowds

assembled at the Opera-house, more for the gratification of the

eye than the ear; for neither the invention of a new composer,

nor the talents of new singers, attracted the public to the

theatre, which was almost abandoned till the arrival of this

lady, whose extraordinary merit had an extraordinary

recompense; for, besides the six hundred pounds' salary allowed

her by the Honourable Mr. Hobart, as manager, she was

complimented with a regallo of six hundred more from the

Maccaroni Club. 'E molto particulare,' said Cocchi, the

Composer; 'ma quei Inglesi non fanno conto d'alcuna cosa se non

ben pagata:' It is very extraordinary that the English set no

value upon any thing but what they pay an exorbitant price

for."-E.

(60) The Parliaments of Besan`con, Bourdeaux,

Toulouse and Britany, were, in succession, totally suppressed

by Louis XV. New courts were assembled in their stead; most of

the former members being sent into banishment.-E.

Letter 35 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.

Arlington Street, Sept. 7, 1771. (page 61)

I arrived yesterday,(61) within an hour or two after you was

gone, which mortified me exceedingly: Lord knows when I shall

see you. You are so active and so busy, and cast bullets(62)

and build bridges, are pontifex maximus, and, like Sir John

Thorold or Cimon, triumph over land and wave,

that one can never get a word with you. Yet I am very well

worth a general's or a politician's ear. I have been deep in

all the secrets of France, and confidant of some of the

principals of both parties. I know what is, and is to be,

though I am neither priest nor conjuror -and have heard a vast

deal about breaking carabiniers and grenadiers; though, as

usual, I dare say I shall give a woful account of both. The

worst part is, that by the most horrid oppression and injustice

their finances will very soon be in good order-unless some

bankrupt turns Ravaillac, which will not surprise me. The

horror the nation has conceived of the King and Chancellor

makes it probable that the latter, at least, will be

sacrificed. He seems not to be without apprehension, and has

removed from the King's library a MS. trial of a chancellor

who was condemned to be hanged under Charles VII. For the

King, qui a fait ses `epreuves, and not to his honour, you will

not wonder that he lives in terrors.

I have executed all Lady Ailesbury's commissions; but mind, I

do not commission you to tell her, for you would certainly

forget it. As you will, no doubt, come to town to report who

burnt Portsmouth;(63) I will meet you here, if I am apprised of

the day. Your niece's marriage,(64) pleases me extremely.

Though I never saw him till last night, I know a great deal of

her future husband, and like his character. His person is much

better than I expected, and far preferable to many of the fine

young moderns. He is better than Sir Watkin Williams Wynne, at

least as well as the Duke of Devonshire, and Adonis compared to

the charming Mr. Fitzpatrick. Adieu!

(61) Mr. Walpole arrived at Paris on the '10th of July, and

left it on the 2d of September-E.

(62) Mr. Conway was now at the head of the ordnance, but with

the title and appointments of lieutenant-general only. The

particular circumstances attending this are thus recorded in a

letter from Mr. Walpole to another correspondent at the time

(January 1770), and deserve to be known:--"The King offered the

mastership of the ordnance, on Lord Granby's resignation, to

Mr. Conway, who is only lieutenant-general of it: he said he

had lived in friendship with Lord Granby, and would not profit

by his spoils; but, as he thought he could do some essential

service in the office, where there were many abuses, if his

Majesty would be pleased to let him continue as he is, be would

do the business of the office without accepting the salary."-E.

(63) On the 27th of July, a fire had broken out in the dockyard

at Portsmouth, which, as it might be highly prejudicial to the

country at that period, excited universal alarm. The loss

sustained by it, which at first was supposed to be half a

million, is said to have been about one hundred and fifty

thousand pounds.-E.

(64) The marriage of Lady Gertrude Seymour Conway to Lord

Villiers, afterwards Earl of Grandison.

Letter 36 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Strawberry Hill, Sept. 10, 1771. (page 62)

However melancholy the occasion is, I can but give you a

thousand thanks, dear Sir-., for the kind trouble you have

taken, and the information you have given me about poor Mr.

Gray. I received your first letter at Paris; the last I found

at my house in town, where I arrived only on Friday last. The

circumstance of the professor refusing to rise in the night and

visit him, adds to the shock. Who is that true professor of

physic? Jesus! is their absence to murder as well as their

presence?

I have not heard from Mr. Mason, but I have written to him. Be

so good as to tell the Master at Pembroke,(65) though I have

not the honour of knowing him, how sensible I am of his

proposed attention to me, and how much I feel for him in losing

a friend of so excellent a genius. Nothing will allay my own

concern like seeing any of his compositions that I have not yet

seen. It is buying them too dear--but when the author is

irreparably lost, the produce of his Mind is the next best

possession. I have offered my press to Mr. Mason, and hope it

will be accepted.

Many thanks for the cross, dear Sir; it is precisely what I

wished. I hope you and Mr. Essex preserve your resolution of

passing a few days here between this and Christmas. Just at

present I am not My own master, having stepped into the middle

of a sudden match in my own family. Lord Hertford is going to

marry his third daughter to Lord Villiers, son of Lady

Grandison, the present wife of Sir Charles Montagu. We are all

felicity, and in a round of dinners. I am this minute returned

from Beaumont-lodge, at Old Windsor, where Sir Charles

Grandison lives. I will let you know, if the papers do not,

when our festivities are subsided.

I shall receive with gratitude from Mr. Tyson either drawing or

etching of our departed friend; but wish not to have it

inscribed to me, as it is an honour, more justly due to Mr.

Stonehewer. If the Master of Pembroke will accept a copy of a

small picture I have of Mr. Gray, painted soon after the

publication of his Ode on Eton, it shall be at his service--and

after his death I beg, it may be bequeathed to his college.

Adieu!

(65) Dr. James Brown. Gray used to call him "le petit bon

homme;" and Cole, in his Athene Cantab, says of him--"He is a

very worthy man, a good scholar, small, and short-sighted." In

the Chatham Correspondence there will be found an interesting

letter from the Master of Pembroke to Lord Chatham, in which he

thus speaks of his illustrious son, the future minister of this

country: " Notwithsanding the illness of your son, I have

myself seen, and have heard enough from his tutors, to be

convinced both of his extraordinary genius and most amiable

disposition. He promises fair, indeed to be one of those

extraordinary persons whose eminent parts, equalled by as

eminent industry, continue in a progressive state throughout

their lives; such persons appear to be formed by Heaven to

assist and bless mankind." Vol. iv. p. 311.-E.

Letter 37 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Strawberry Hill, Oct. 12, 1771. (page 63)

Dear Sir,

As our wedding will not be so soon as I expected, and as I

should be unwilling You Should take a journey in bad weather, I

wish it may be convenient to you and Mr. Essex to come hither

on the 25th day of this present month. If one can depend on

any season, it is on the chill suns of October, which, like an

elderly beauty, are less capricious than spring or summer. Our

old-fashioned October, you know, reached eleven days into

modern November, and I still depend on that reckoning, when I

have a mind to protract the year.

Lord Ossory is charmed with Mr. Essex's cross(66) and wishes

much to consult him on the proportions. Lord Ossory has taken a

small house very near mine; is now, and will be here again,

after Newmarket. He is determined to erect it at Ampthill, and

I have written the following lines to record the reason:

In days of old here Ampthill's towers were seen;

The mournful refuge of an injured queen.

Here flowed her pure, but unavailing tears;

Here blinded zeal sustain'd her sinking years.

Yet Freedom hence-her radiant banners waved,

And love avenged a realm by priests enslaved.

From Catherine's wrongs a nation's bliss was spread,

And Luther's light from Henry's lawless bed,

I hope the satire on Henry VIII. will make you excuse the

compliment to Luther, Which, like most poetic compliments, does

not come from my heart. I only like him better than Henry,

Calvin, and the Church of Rome, who were bloody persecutors.

Calvin was an execrable villain, and the worst of all; for he

copied those whom he pretended to correct. Luther was as

jovial as Wilkes, and served the cause of liberty without

canting. Yours most sincerely.

(66) Mr. Cole applied to Mr. Essex, who furnished a design for

the cross, which was followed.

Letter 38 To The Rev Mr. Cole.

Strawberry Hill, Oct. 23, 1771. (page 63)

I am sorry, dear Sir, that I cannot say your answer is as

agreeable and entertaining as you flatter me my letter was; but

consider, you are prevented coming to me, and have flying pains

of rheumatism--either were sufficient to spoil your letter.

I am sure of being here till to-morrow se'nnight, the last of

this month; consequently I may hope to see Mr. Essex here on

Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday next. After that I cannot answer

for myself, on account of our wedding, which depends on the

return of a courier from Ireland. If I can command any days

certain in November, I will give you notice: and yet I shall

have a scruple of dragging you so far from home at such a

season. I will leave it to your option, only begging you to be

assured that I shall always be most happy to see you.

I am making a very curious purchase at Paris, the complete

armour of Francis the First. It is gilt, in relief, and is

very rich and beautiful. It comes out of the Crozat

collection.(67) I am building a small chapel, too, in my

garden, to receive two valuable pieces of antiquity, and which

have been presents singularly lucky for me. They are the

window from Bexhill, with the portraits of Henry III. and his

Queen, procured for me by Lord Ashburnham. The other, great

part of the tomb of Capoccio, mentioned in my Anecdotes of

Painting on the subject of the Confessor's shrine, and sent to

me from Rome by Mr. Hamilton, our minister at Naples. It is

very extraordinary that I should happen to be master of these

curiosities. After next summer, by which time my castle and

collection will be complete (for if I buy more I must build

another castle for another collection), I propose to form

another catalogue and description, and shall take the liberty

to call on you for your assistance. In the mean time there is

enough new to divert you at present.