a paper of direction, and the counterpart of what I have
written to Madame du Deffand. I beg of you seriously to take a
great deal of notice of this dear old friend of mine. She
will, perhaps, expect more attention
from you, as my friend, and as it is her own nature a little,
than will be quite convenient to you: but you have an infinite
deal of patience and good-nature, and will excuse it. I was
afraid of her importuning Madame Ailesbury, who has a vast deal
to see and do, and, therefore, I prepared Madame du Deffand,
and told her Lady Ailesbury loves amusements, and that, having
never been at Paris before, she must not confine her: so you
must pay for both--and it will answer: and- I do not, I own,
ask this Only for Madame du Deffand's sake, but for my own, and
a little for yours. Since the late King's death she has not
dared to write to me freely, and I want to know the present
state of 'France exactly, both to satisfy my Own curiosity, and
for her sake, as- I wish to learn whether her, pension, etc. is
in any danger from the present ministry, some of whom are not
her friends. She can tell you a great deal if she will--by
that I don't mean that she is reserved, or partial to, her Own
country against ours--quite the contrary; she loves me better
than all France together--but she hates politics; and
therefore, to make her talk on it, you must tell her it is to
satisfy me, and that I want to know whether she is well at
court, whether she has any fears from the government,
particularly Maurepas and Nivernois: and that I am eager to
have Monsieur do Choiseul and ma grandmaman, the Duchess,
restored to power. If you take it on this foot easily, she
will talk to you with the utmost frankness and with amazing
cleverness. I have told her you are strangely absent, and
that, if she does not repeat it over and over, you will forget
every syllable; so I have prepared her to joke and be quite
familiar with you at once.(133) She knows more of personal
characters, and paints them better, than any body: but let this
be between ourselves, for I would not have a living soul
suspect, that I get any intelligence from her, which would hurt
her; and, therefore, I beg you not to let any human being know
of this letter, nor of your conversation with her, neither
English nor French.
Madame du Deffand hates les philosophes; so you must give them
up to her. She and Madame Geoffrin are no friends: so, if you
go thither, don't tell her of it. Indeed, you would be sick of
that house, whither all pretended beaux esprits and faux
savants go, and where they are very impertinent and dogmatic.
Let me give you one other caution, which I shall give to Lady
Ailesbury too. Take care of your papers at Paris, and have a
very strong lock to your porte-feuille. In the h`otels garnis
they have double keys to every lock, and examine every drawer
and paper of the English they can get at. They will pilfer,
too, whatever they can. I was robbed of half my clothes there
the first time, and they wanted to hang poor Louis to save the
people of the house who had stolen the things.
Here is another thing I must say. Madame du Deffand has kept a
great many of my letters, and, as she is very old, I am in pain
about them. I have written to her to beg she will deliver them
up to you to bring back to me, and I trust she Will.(134) If
she does, be so good to take great care of them. If she does
not mention them, tell her before you come away, that I begged
you to bring them; and if she hesitates, convince her how it
would hurt me to have letters written in very bad French, and
mentioning several people, both French and English, fall into
bad hands, and, perhaps, be printed.
Let me desire you to read this letter more than once, that you
may not forget my requests, which are very important to me; and
I must give you one other caution, without which all would be
useless.
There is at Paris a Mademoiselle de l,Espinasse,(135) a
pretended bel esprit, who was formerly an humble companion of
Madame du Deffand; and betrayed her and used her very ill. I
beg of you not to let any body carry you thither. It Would
disoblige my friend of all things in the world, and she would
never tell you a syllable; and I own it would hurt me, who have
such infinite obligations to her, that I should be very unhappy
if a particular friend of mine showed her this disregard. She
has done every thing upon earth to please and serve me, and I
owe it to her to be earnest about this attention. Pray do not
mention it; it might look simple in me, and yet I owe it to
her, as I know it would hurt her, and, at her age, with her
misfortunes, and with infinite obligations on my side, can I do
too much to show My gratitude, or prevent her any new
mortification? I dwell upon it, because she has some enemies so
spiteful that they try to carry all English to Mademoiselle de
l'Espinasse.
I wish the Duchess of Choiseul may come to Paris while you are
there; but I fear she will not; you would like her of all
things. She has more sense and more virtues than almost any
human being. If you choose to see any of the savans, let me
recommend Monsieur Buffon. He has not only much more sense
than any of them, but is an excellent old man, humane, gentle,
well-bred, and with none of the arrogant pertness of all the
rest. if he is at Paris, you will see a good deal of the Comte
d e Broglie at Madame du Deffand's. He is not a genius of the
first water, but lively and sometimes agreeable. The court, I
fear, will be at Fontainbleau, which will prevent your seeing
many, unless you go thither. Adieu! at Paris! I leave the rest
of my paper for England, if I happen to have any thing
particular to tell you.
(132) Mr. Conway ended is military tour at Paris; whither Lady
Ailesbury and Mrs. Damer went to meet him, and where they spent
the winter together.
(133) In her letter to Walpole, of the 28th of October, Madame
du Deffand draws the following portrait of General Conway:--
"Selon l'id`ee que vous m'en aviez donn`ee, je le croyais
grave, s`ev`ere, froid, imposant; c'est l'homme le plus
aimable, le plus facile, le plus doux, le plus obligeant, et le
plus simple que je connaisse. Il n'a pas ces premiers
mouvemens de sensibilit`e qu'on trouve en vous, mais aussi
n'a-t-il pas votre humeur."-E.
(134) To this request Madame du Deffand replied--"Je ne me
flatte point de vous revoir l'ann`ee prochaine, et le renvoi
que vous voulez que je vous fasse de vos lettres est ce qui
m'en fait denier. Ne serait-il pas plus naturel, si vous
deviez venir, que je vous les rendisse `a vous-m`eme? car vous
ne pensez pas que je ne puisse vivre encore un an. Vous me
faites croire, Par votre m`efiance, que vous avez en vue
d'effacer toute trace de votre intelligence avec Moi."-E.
(135) Mademoiselle de l'Espinasse, the friend of D'Alembert,
born at Lyons in 1732, was the natural child of Mademoiselle
d'Albon, whose legitimate daughter was married to the Marquis
de Vichy. After the death of her mother, she resided with
Monsieur and Madame de Vichy; but in consequence of some
disagreements, left them, and in May
1754, went to reside with Madame du Deffand, with whom she
remained until 1764. The letters of Mademoiselle de
l'Espinasse were published some few years since.-E.
Letter 75 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.
Strawberry Hill, Oct. 11, 1774. (page 105)
Dear Sir,
I answer yours immediately; as one pays a shilling to clench a
bargain, when one suspects the seller. I accept your visit in
the last week of this month, and will prosecute you if you do
not execute. I have nothing to say about elections, but that I
congratulate myself ,every time I feel I have nothing to do
with them. By my nephew's strange conduct about his boroughs,
and by many other reasons, I doubt whether he is so well as he
seemed to Dr. Barnardiston. It is a subject I do not love to
talk on; but I know I tremble every time the bell rings at my
gate at an unusual hour.
Have you seen Mr. Granger's Supplement? Methinks it grows too
diffuse. I have hinted to him that fewer panegyrics from
funeral orations would not hurt it. Adieu!
Letter 76 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Strawberry Hill, Sunday, Oct. 16, 1774. (page 106)
I received this morning your letter of the 6th from Strasburg;
and before you get this you will have had three from me by Lady
Ailesbury. One of them should have reached you much sooner;
but Lady Ailesbury kept it, not being sure where you was. It
was in answer to one in which you told me an anecdote, which in
this last you ask if I had received.
Your letters are always so welcome to me, that you certainly
have no occasion for excusing what you say or do not say. Your
details amuse me, and so would what you suppress; for, though I
have no military genius or curiosity, whatever relates to
yourself must interest me. The honours you have received,
though I have so little taste for such things myself, gave me
great satisfaction; and I do not know whether there is not more
pleasure in not being a prophet in one's own country, when one
is almost received like Mahomet in every other. To be an idol
at home, is no assured touchstone of merit. Stocks and stones
have been adored in fifty regions, but do not bear
transplanting. The Apollo Belvidere and the Hercules Farnese
may lose their temples, but never lose their estimation, by
travelling.
Elections, you may be sure, are the only topic here at
present--I mean in England--not on this quiet hill, where I
think of them as little as of the spot where the battle of
Blenheim was fought. They say there will not be much
alteration, but the phoenix will rise from its ashes with most
of its old plumes, or as bright. Wilkes at first seemed to
carry all before him, besides having obtained the mayoralty of
London at last. Lady Hertford told me last Sunday, that he
would carry twelve members. I have not been in town since, nor
know any thing but what I collect from the papers; so. if my
letter is opened, M. de Vergennes will not amass any very
authentic intelligence from my despatches.
What I have taken notice of, is as follows: For the city Wilkes
will have but three members: he will lose Crosby, and Townsend
will carry Oliver. In Westminster, Wilkes will not have one;
his Humphrey Cotes is by far the lowest on the poll; Lord Percy
and Lord T. Clinton are triumphant there. Her grace of
Northumberland sits at a window in Covent-garden, harangues the
mob, and is "Hail, fellow, well met!" At Dover, Wilkes has
carried one, and probably will come in for Middlesex himself
with Glynn. There have been great endeavours to oppose him,
but to no purpose. Of this I am glad, for I do not love a mob
so near as Brentford especially, as my road lies through it.
Where he has any other interest I am too ignorant in these
matters to tell you. Lord John Cavendish is opposed at York,
and at the beginning of the poll had the fewest numbers.
Charles Fox, like the ghost in Hamlet, has shifted to many
quarters; but in most the cock crew, and he walked off.(136) In
Southwark there has been outrageous rioting; but I neither know
the candidates, their connexions, nor success. This, perhaps,
will appear a great deal of news at Paris: here, I dare to say,
my butcher knows more.
I can tell you still less of America. There are two or three
more ships with forces going thither, and Sir William Draper as
second in command.
Of private news, except that Dyson has had a stroke of palsy
and will die, there is certainly none; for I saw that shrill
Morning Post, Lady Greenwich, two hours ago, and she did not
Know a paragraph.
I forgot to mention to you M. de Maurepas. He was by far the
ablest and most agreeable man I knew at Paris: and if you stay,
I think I could take the liberty of giving you a letter to him;
though, as he is now so great a man, and I remain so little an
one, I don't know whether it would be quite so proper--though
he was exceedingly good to me, and pressed me often to make him
a visit in the country. But Lord Stormont can certainly carry
you to him--a better passport.
There was one of my letters on which I wish to hear from you.
There are always English coming from Paris, who would bring
such a parcel: at least, you might send me one volume at a
time, and the rest afterwards: but I should not care to have
them ventured by the common conveyance. Madame du Deffand is
negotiating for an enamel picture for me; but, if she obtains
it, I had rather wait for it till you come. The books I mean,
are those I told you Lady Ailesbury and Mrs. Damer would give
you a particular account of, for they know my mind exactly.
Don't reproach me with not meeting you at Paris. Recollect
what I suffered this time two years; and, if you can have any
notion of fear, imagine my dread of torture for five months and
a half! When all the quiet of Strawberry did but just carry me
through it, could I support it in the noise of a French hotel!
and, what would be still worse, exposed to receive all visits?
for the French, you know, are never mor in public than in the
act of death. I am like animals, and love to hide myself when
I am dying. Thank God, I am now two days beyond the crisis
when I expected my dreadful periodic visitant, and begin to
grow very sanguine about the virtue of the bootikins. I shall
even have courage to go to-morrow to Chalfont for two days, as
it is but a journey of two hours. I would not be a day's
journey from hence for all Lord Clive's diamonds. This will
satisfy you. I doubt Madame du Deffand is not so easily
convinced--therefore, pray do not drop a hint before her of
blaming me for not meeting you rather assure her you are
persuaded it would have been too great a risk for me at this
season. I wish to have her quite clear of my attachment to
her; but that I do not always find so easy. You, I am sure,
will find her all zeal and entpressement for you and yours.
Adieu! Yours ever.
(136) Mr. Fox was returned for Malmesbury.-E.
Letter 77 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Strawberry Hill, Oct. 29, 1774. (page 108)
I have received your letter of the 23d, and it certainly
overpays me, when you thank instead of scolding me, as I
feared. A passionate man has very little merit in being in a
passion, and is sure of saying many things he repents, as I do.
I only hope you think that I could not be so much in the wrong
for every body; nor should have been, perhaps, even for you, if
I had not been certain I was the only person, at that moment,
that could serve you essentially: and at such a crisis, I am
sure I should take exactly the same part again, except in
saying some things I did, of which I am ashamed!(137) I will
say no more now on that topic, nor on any thing relating to it,
because I have written my mind very fully, and you will know it
soon. I can only tell you now, that I approve extremely your
way of thinking, and hope you will not change it before you
hear from me, and know some material circumstances. You and
Lady Ailesbury and I agree exactly, and she and I certainly
consider only you. I do not answer her last, because I could
not help telling you how very kindly I take your letter. All I
beg is, that you would have no delicacy about my serving you
any way. You know it is a pleasure to me: any body else may
have views that would embarrass you; and, therefore, till you
are on the spot, and can judge for yourself (which I always
insist on, because you are cooler than I, and because, though I
have no interests to serve, I have passions, which equally
mislead one,) it will be wiser to decline all kind of proposals
and offers. You will avoid the plague of contested elections
and solicitations: and I see no reasons, at present, that can
tempt you to be in a hurry.(138)
You must not expect to be Madame du Deffand's first favourite.
Lady Ailesbury has made such a progress there, that you will
not easily supplant her. I have received volumes in her
praise.(139) You have a better chance with Madame de Cambis,
who is very agreeable; and I hope you are not such an English
husband as not to conform to the manners of Paris while you are
there.
I forgot to mention one or two of my favourite objects to Lady
Ailesbury, nay, I am not sure she will taste one of them, the
church of the C`elestines. it is crowded with beautiful old
tombs; one of Francis II. whose beatitude is presumed from his
being husband of the martyr Mary Stuart. - Another is of the
first wife of John Duke of Bedford, the Regent Of France. I
think you was once there with me formerly. The other is
Richelieu's tomb, at the Sorbonne--but that every body is
carried to see. The H`otel de Carnavalet,(140) near the Place
Royale, is worth looking at, even for the fa`cade, as you drive
by. But of all earthly things the most worth seeing is the
house at Versailles, where the King's pictures, not hung up,
are kept. There is a treasure past belief, though in sad
order. and piled one against another. Monsieur de Guerchy once
carried me thither; and you may certainly get leave. At the
Luxembourg are some hung up, and one particularly is worth
going to see alone: it is the Deluge by Nicolo Poussin, as
winter. The three other seasons are good for nothing: but the
Deluge is the first picture in the world of its kind. You will
be shocked to see the glorious pictures at the Palais Royal
transplanted to new canvasses, and new painted and varnished,
as if they were to be scenes at the Opera-at least, they had
treated half-a-dozen of the best so, three years ago, and were
going on. The Prince of Monaco has a few fine, but still worse
used; one of them shines more than a looking glass. I fear the
exposition of pictures is over for this year; it is generally
very diverting.(141) I, who went into every church of Paris,
can assure you there are few worth it, but the Invalids-except
the scenery at St. Roch, about one or two o'clock at noon, when
the sun shines; the Carmelites, for the Guido and the portrait
of Madame de la Vali`ere as a Magdalen; the Val de Grace, for a
moment; the treasure at Notre Dame; the Sainte Chapelle, where
in the ante-chapel are two very large enamelled portraits; the
tomb of Cond`e at the Great Jesuits in the Rue St. Antoine, if
not shut up; and the little church of St. Louis in the Louvre,
where is a fine tomb of Cardinal Fleury, but large enough to
stand on Salisbury-plain. One thing some of u must remember,
as you return; nay, it is better to go soon to St. Denis, and
Madame du Deffand must get you a particular order to be shown
(which is never shown without) the effigies of the Kings.(142)
They are in presses over the treasure which is shown, and where
is the glorious antique cameo-cup; but the countenance of
Charles IX. is so horrid and remarkable, you would think he had
died on the morrow of the St. Barthelemi, and waked full of the
recollection. If you love enamels and exquisite medals, get to
see the collection of a Monsieur d'Henery, who lives in the
corner of the street where Sir John Lambert lives--I forget its
name. There is an old man behind the Rue de Colombier, who has
a great but bad collection of old French portraits; I delighted
in them, but perhaps you would not. I, you may be sure, hunted
out every thing of that sort. The convent and collection of
St. Germain, I mean that over against the H`otel du Parc Royal,
is well worth seeing--but I forget names strangely--Oh!
delightful!--Lord Cholmondeley sends me word he goes to Paris
on Monday: I shall send this and my other letter by him. It
was him I meant; I knew he was going and had prepared it.
Pray take care to lock up your papers in a strong box that
nobody can open. They imagine you are at Paris on some
commission, and there is no trusting French hotels or servants.
America is in a desperate situation, The accounts from the
Congress are not expected before the 10th, and expected very
warm. I have not time to tell you some manoeuvres against them
that will make your blood curdle. Write to me when you can by
private hands, as I will to you. There are always English
passing backwards and forwards.
(140) Where Madame de S`evign`e resided.
(141) He means from their extreme bad taste.
(142) The abbey of St. Denis was shorn of its glories during
the Revolution. On the 16th of October 1793, the coffin of
Louis XV. was taken out of the vaults; and, after a stormy
debate, it was decided to throw the remains of all the kings,
even those of Henry IV. and Louis XIV. which were yet to a
great degree preserved entire, into a pit, to melt down their
leaden coffins on the spot, and to take
away and cast into bullets whatever
lead remained in the church; not even excepting the roof.-E.
Letter 78 To The Countess Of Ailesbury.
Strawberry Hill, Nov. 7, 1774. (page 110)
I have written such tomes to Mr. Conway, Madam, and have so
nothing new to write, that I might as well, methinks, begin and
like the lady to her husband: "Je vous `ecris parce que je n'ai
rien `a faire: je finis parce que je n'ai rien `a vous dire."
Yes, I have two complaints to make, one of your ladyship, the
other of myself. You tell me nothing of Lady Harriet; have you
no tongue, or the French no eyes? or are her eyes employed in
nothing but seeing? What a vulgar employment for a fine
woman's eyes, after she has risen from her toilet! I declare I
will ask no more questions--what is it to me, whether she is
admired or not? I should know how charming she is, though all
Europe were blind. I hope I am not to be told by any barbarous
nation upon earth what beauty and grace are.
For myself, I am guilty of the gout in my elbow; the left-
-witness my handwriting. Whether I caught cold by the deluge
in the night, or whether the bootikins, like the water of Styx,
can only preserve the parts they surround, I doubt they have
saved me but three weeks, for so long my reckoning has been
out. However, as I feel nothing in my feet, I flatter myself
that this Pindaric transition will not be a regular ode, but a
fragment, the more valuable for being imperfect.
Now for my gazette.--Marriages--Nothing done. Intrigues--More
in the political than civil way. Births--Under par since Lady
Berkeley left off breeding. Gaming--Low water. Deaths--Lord
Morton, Lord Wentworth, Duchess Douglas. Election stock--More
buyers than sellers. Promotions--Mr. Wilkes as high as he can
go.--Apropos, he was told the Lord Chancellor intended to
signify to him, that the King did not approve the City's
choice: he replied, "Then I shall signify to his lordship, that
I am at least as fit to be Lord Mayor as he to be Lord
Chancellor." This being more gospel than every thing Mr.
Wilkes says, the formal approbation was given.
Mr. Burke has succeeded in Bristol, and Sir James Peachey will
miscarry in Sussex. But what care you, Madam, about our
Parliament? You will see the rentr`ee of the old one, with
songs and epigrams into the bargain. We do not shift our
Parliaments with so much gaiety. Money in one hand, and abuse
in t'other--those are all the arts we know. Wit and a gamut I
don't believe ever signified a Parliament,(143) whatever the
glossaries may say; for they never produce pleasantry and
harmony. Perhaps you may not taste this Saxon pun, but I know
it will make the Antiquarian Society die with laughing.
Expectation hangs on America. The result of the general
assembly is expected in four or five days. If one may believe
the papers, which one should not believe, the other side of the
waterists are not doux comme des moutons, and yet we do intend
to eat them. I was in town on Monday; the Duchess of Beaufort
graced our loo, and made it as rantipole as a Quaker's meeting.
Louis Quinze ,(144) I believe, is arrived by this time, but I
fear without quinze louis.
Your herb-snuff and the four glasses are lying in my warehouse,
but I can hear of no ship going to Paris. You are now at
FOntainbleau, but not thinking of Francis 1. the Queen of
Sweden, and Monaldelschi. It is terrible that one cannot go to
courts that are gone! You have supped with the Chevalier de
Boufflers: did he act every thing in the world, and sing every
thing in the world, and laugh at every thing in the world? Has
Madame de Cambis sung to you "Sans d`epit, sans
l`egert`e?"(145) Has Lord Cholmondeley delivered my pacquet?
I hear I have hopes of Madame d'Olonne.(146) Gout or no gout, I
shall be little in town till after Christmas. My elbow makes
me bless myself that I am not at Paris. Old age is no such
uncomfortable thing, if one gives oneself up to it with a good
grace, and don't drag it about
"To midnight dances and the public show."
If one stays quietly in one's own house in the country, and
cares for nothing but oneself, scolds one's servants, condemns
every thing that is new, and recollects how charming a thousand
things were formerly that were very disagreeable, one gets over
the winters very well, and the summers get over themselves.
(143) Witenagemoot.
(144) This was a cant name given to Lady Powis, who was very
fond of loo, and had lost much money at the game.
(145) The first words of a favourite French air.
(146) The Portrait in enamel of Madame d'Olonne by Petitot,
which Walpole afterwards purchased.-E.
Letter 79 To The Earl Of Strafford.
Strawberry Hill, Nov. 11, 1774. (page 112)
I am sorry there is still time, my dear lord, to write to you
again; and that though there is, I have so little to amuse you
with. One is not much nearer news for being within ten miles
of London than if in Yorkshire; and besides, whatever reaches
us, Lady Greenwich catches at the rebound before me, and Sends
you before I can. Our own circle furnishes very little.
Dowagers are good for propagating news when planted, but have
done with sending forth suckers. Lady Blandford's coffee-house
is removed to town, and the Duchess of Newcastle's is little
frequented, but by your sister Anne, Lady Browne, and me. This
morning, indeed, I was at a very fine concert at old Franks's
at Isleworth, and heard Leoni,(147) who pleased me more than
any thing I have heard these hundred years. There is a full
melancholy melody in his voice, though a falsetto, that nothing
but a natural voice ever compasses. Then he sung songs of
Handel in the genuine simple style, and did not put one in pain
like rope-dancers. Of the Opera I hear a dismal account; for I
did not go to it to sit in our box like an old King dowager by
myself. Garrick is treating the town, as it deserves and likes
to be treated, with scenes, fireworks, and his own writing. A
good new play I never expect to see more, nor have seen since
The Provoked Husband, which came out when I was at school.
Bradshaw is dead, they say by his own hand: I don't know
wherefore. I was told it was a great political event. If it
is, our politics run as low as our plays. From town I heard
that Lord Bristol was taken speechless with a stroke of the
palsy. If he dies, Madam Chudleigh(148) must be tried by her
peers, as she is certainly either duchess or countess. Mr.
Conway and his company are so pleased with Paris, that they
talk of staying till Christmas. I am glad; for they will
certainly be better diverted there than here. Your lordship's
most faithful servant.
(147) Leoni, a celebrated singer of the day, considered one of
the best in England. He was a Jew, and engaged at the
synagogues, from which he is said to have been dismissed for
singing in the Messiah of Handel.-E.
(148) The Duchess of Kingston; against whom an indictment for
bigamy was found on the 8th of December, she having married the
Duke of Kingston, having been previously married to the Hon.
Augustus John Hervey, then living, and who, by the death of his
brother, in March, 1775, became Earl of Bristol.-E.
Letter 80 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Strawberry Hill, Nov. 12, 1774. (page 112)
I have received a delightful letter from you of four sheets,
and another since. I shall not reply to the campaigning part
(though much obliged to you for it), because I have twenty
other subjects -more pressing to talk of The first is to thank
you for your excessive goodness to my dear old friend-she has
some indiscretions, and you must not have any to her; but she
has the best heart in the world, and I am happy,, at her great
age, that she has spirits enough not to he always upon her
guard. A bad heart, especially after long experience,, is but
too apt to overflow inwardly with prudence. At least, as I am
but too like her, and have corrected too few of my faults, I
would fain persuade myself that some of them flow from a good
principle--but I have not time to talk of myself, though you
are much too Partial to me, and give me an opportunity; yet I
shall not take it.
Now for English news, and then your letter again. There has
been a great mortality here; though Death has rather been pri`e
than a volunteer. Bradshaw, as I told Lady Ailesbury last
post, shot himself. He is dead, totally undone. Whether that
alone was the cause, or whether he had not done something
worse, I doubt. I cannot conceive that, with his resources, he
should have been hopeless--and, to suspect him of delicacy,
impossible!
A ship is arrived from America, and I doubt with very bad
news; for none but trifling letters have yet been given out-
-but I am here, see nobody that knows any thing,,and only hear
by accident from people that drop in. The sloop that is to
bring the result of the general assembly is not yet come.
There are indeed rumours, that both the non-importation, and
even non-exportation have been decreed, and that the flame is
universal. I hope this is exaggerated! yet I am told the
stocks will fall very much in a day or two.
I have nothing to tell Lady Ailesbury, but that I hear a
deplorable account of the Opera. There is a new puppet-show at
Drury Lane, as fine as scenes can make it, called "The Maid of
the Oaks,"(149) and as dull as the author could not help making
it.
Except M. d'Herouville, I know all the people you name. C. I
doubt, by things I have heard formerly, may have been a
concessionnaire. The Duke, your protecteur(150) is mediocre
enough; You would have been more pleased with his wife. The
Chevalier's(151) bon-mot is excellent, and so is he. He has as
much buffonnerie as the Italians, With more wit and novelty.
His impromptu verses often admirable. Get Madame du Deffand to
show you his embassy to the Princess Christine, and his verses
on his eldest uncle, beginning Si Monsieur de Veau. His second
uncle has parts, but they are not so natural. Madame de
Caraman is a very good kind of woman, but has not a quarter of
her sister's parts.(152) Madame de Mirepoix is the agreeable
woman of the world when she pleases-but there, must not be a
card in the room. Lord * * * * has acted like himself; that
is, unlike any body else. You know, I believe, that I think
him a very good spetcr; but I have little opinion of his
judgment and knowledge of the world, and a great Opinion of his
affectation and insincerity. The Abb`e Raynal, though he wrote
that fine work on the Commerce des Deux Indes, is the most
tiresome creature in the world. The first time I met him was
at the dull Baron d'Olbach's: we were twelve at table: I
dreaded opening My Mouth in French, before so many people and
so many servants: he began questioning me, cross the table,
about our colonies, which I understand as little as I do
Coptic. I made him signs I was deaf. After dinner, he found I
was not, and never forgave me. Mademoiselle do Raucoux I never
saw till you told me Madame du Deffand said she was d`emoniaque
sans chaleur! What painting! I see her now. Le Kain sometimes
pleased me, oftener not. Mol`e is charming in genteel, or in
pathetic comedy, and would be fine in tragedy, if he was
stronger. Preville is always perfection. I like his wife in
affected parts, though not animated enough. There was a
delightful woman who did the Lady Wishforts, I don't know if
there still, I think her name Mademoiselle Drouin; and a fat
woman, rather elderly, who sometimes acted the soubrette. But
you have missed the Dumenil, and Caillaut! What irreparable
losses! Madame du Deffand, perhaps--I don't know--could obtain
your hearing the Clairon, yet the Dumenil was infinitely
preferable.
I could now almost find in my heart to laugh at you for liking
Boutin's garden.(153) Do you know, that I drew a plan of it,
as the completest absurdity I ever saw. What! a river that
wriggles at right angles through a stone gutter, with two tansy
puddings that were dug out of it, and three or four beds in a
row, by a corner of the wall, with samples of grass, corn, and
of en friche, like a tailor's paper of patterns! And you like
this! I will tell Park-place--Oh! I had forgot your audience in
dumb show--Well, as Madame de S`evign`e said, "Le Roi de
Prusse, c'est le plus grand Roi du monde still."(154) My love
to the old Parliament; I don't love new ones.
I went several times to Madame do Monconseil's, who is just
what you say. Mesdames de Tingri et de la Vauguion I never
saw: Madame de Noailles once or twice, and enough. You say
something of Madame de Mallet, which I could not read; for, by
the way, your brother and I agree that you are grown not to
write legibly: is that lady in being? I knew her formerly.
Madame de Blot(155) I know, and Monsieur de Paulmy I know; but
for Heaven's sake who is Colonel Conway?(156) Mademoiselle
Sanadon is la sana donna, and not Mademoiselle Celadon,(157) as
you call her. Pray assure my good Monsieur Schouwalov(158)of
my great regard: he is one of the best of beings.
I have said all I could, at least all I should. I reserve the
rest of my paper for a postscript; for this is but Saturday,
and my letter cannot depart till Tuesday: but I could not for
one minute defer answering your charming volumes, which
interest me so much. I grieve for Lady Harriet's swelled face,
and wish for both their sakes .She could transfer it to her
father. I assure her I meant nothing by desiring you to see
the verses to the Princess Christine,(159) wherein there is
very profane mention of a pair of swelled cheeks. I hear
nothing of Madame d'Olonne. Oh! make Madame du Deffand show
you the sweet portrait of Madame de Prie, the Duke of Bourbon's
mistress. Have you seen Madame de Monaco, and the remains of
Madame de Brionne? If -you wish to see Mrs. A * * *, ask for
the Princesse de Ligne. If you have seen Monsieur de Maurepas,
you have seen the late Lord Hardwicke.(160) By your not naming
him, I suppose the Duc de Nivernois, is not at Paris. Say a
great deal for me to M. de Guisnes.. You will not see my
passion, the Duchess de Chatillon. if You see Madame de
Nivernois, you will think the Duke of Newcastle is come to life
again. Alas! where is my Postscript? Adieu! Yours ever.
(149) Written by General Burgoyne. Walpole's opinion of the
General's abilities as a writer totally changed upon the
appearance of "The Heiress", which he always called the
greatest comedy in the English language.-E.
(150) The Duc de la Vali`ere: whom Mr. Conway had said, that,
when presented to him, "his reception was what might be called
good but rather de protection."
(151) The Chevalier de Boufflers; well known for his "Letters
from Switzerland," addressed to his mother; his "Reine de
Golconde," a tale; and a number of very pretty vers de
soci`et`e.-E.
(152) Madame de Cambis.-E.
(153) See another ludicrous description of this garden in a
letter to Mr. Chute; ante, P. 55, letter 31.-E.
(154) This alludes to Mr. Conway's presentation to the King of
France, Louis XVI. at Fontainbleau, of which, in his letter to
Mr. Walpole he gives the following account:-- "on St. Hubert's
day in the morning I had the honour of being presented to the
King: 'twas a good day, and an excellent deed. You may be sure
I was well received! the French are so polite! and their court
so Polished! The Emperor, indeed, talked to me every day; so
did the King of Prussia, regularly and much; but that was not
to be compared to the extraordinary reception of his most
Christian Majesty, who, when I was presented, did not stop nor
look to see what sort of an animal was offered to his notice,
but carried his head, as it seemed, somewhat higher, and passed
his way."
(155) Wife Of M. Chavigny de Blot, attached to the service of
the Duke of Orleans: she Was sister to the Comte d'Hennery, who
died at St. Domingo, where he was commander-in-chief.
(156) An officer in the French service.
(157) Mademoiselle Sanadon, a lady who lived with Madame du
Deffand. She was niece to the P`ere Sanadon, well known by his
translation of Horace, accompanied with valuable notes, and by
his elegant Poems and orations in the Latin language.-E.
(158) The Russian minister at Paris.
See vol. iii., Letter to the Earl of Hertford, March 26, 1765,
letter 245. Madame du Deffand thus describes the Count in a
letter to Walpole:--"Je trouve notre bon ami un peu ennuyeux;
il n'a nulle inflexion dans la parole, nul mouvement dans
l'`ame; ce qu'il dit est une lecture sans p`en`etration."-E.
(159) BY the Chevalier do Boufflers.
(160) He means, from their personal resemblance.
Letter 81 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Arlington Street, Nov. 27, 1774. (page 115)
I have received your delightful Plump packet with a letter of
six pages, one from Madame du Deffand, the Eloges,(161) and the
Lit de Justice. Now, observe my gratitude: I appoint you my
resident at Paris, but you are not to resemble all our
ministers abroad, and expect to live at home, which would
destroy my Lord Castlecomer's(162) view in your staying at
Paris. However, to prove to you that I have some gratitude
that is not totally selfish, I will tell you what little news I
know, before I answer your letter; for English news, to be
sure, is the most agreeable circumstance in a letter from
England.
On my coming to town yesterday, there was nothing but more
deaths--don't you think we have the plague? The Bishop of
Worcester,(163) Lord Breadalbane, Lord Strathmore. The first
fell from his horse, or with his horse, at Bath, and the
bishopric was incontinently given to Bishop North.
America is still more refractory, and I doubt will outvote the
ministry. They have picked General Gage's pocket of three
pieces of cannon,(164) and intercepted some troops that were
going to him. Sir William Draper is writing plans of
pacification in our newspapers; and Lord Chatham flatters
himself that he shall be sent for when the patient is given
over; which I don't think at all unlikely to happen. My poor
nephew is very political too: so we shall not want mad doctors.
Apropos, I hear Wilkes says he will propose Macreth for
Speaker.
The Ecclesiastical Court are come to a resolution that the
Duchess of Kingston is Mrs. Hervey; and the sentence will be
public in a -fortnight. It is not so certain that she will
lose the estate. Augustus(165) is not in a much more pleasant
predicament than she is. I saw Lord Bristol last night: he
looks perfectly well, but his speech is much affected, and his
right hand.
Lady Lyttelton, who, you know, never hears any thing that has
happened, wrote to me two days ago, to ask if it would not be
necessary for you to come over for the meeting of the
Parliament. I answered, very gravely, that to be sure you
ought: but though Sir James Morgan threatened you loudly with a
petition, yet, as it could not be heard till after Christmas, I
was afraid you could not be persuaded to come sooner. I hope
she will inquire who Sir James Morgan is, and that people will
persuade her she has made a confusion about Sir James Peachy.
Now for your letter.
I have been in the Chambre de Parlement, I think they call it
the Grande Chambre; and was shown the corner in which the
monarchs sit, and do not wonder you did not guess where it was
they sat. It is just like the dark corner, under the window,
where I always sat in the House of Commons. What has happened,
has passed exactly according to my ideas. When one King breaks
one parliament, and another, what can the result be but
despotism? or of what else is it a proof? If a Tory King
displaces his father's Whig lord
chamberlain, neither lord chamberlain has the more or the less
power ,over the theatres and court mournings and birthday
balls. All that can arrive is, that the people will be still
more attached to the old parliament, from this seeming
restitution of a right--but the people must have some power
before their attachment can signify a straw. The old
parliament, too, may some time or other give itself more airs
on this confession of right; but that too cannot be but in a
minority, when the power of the crown is lessened by reasons
that have nothing to do with the parliament. I will answer for
it, they will be too grateful to give umbrage to their
restorer. Indeed, I did not think the people would be so
quick-sighted at once, as to see the distinction of old and new
was without difference. Methinks France and England are like
the land and the sea; one gets a little sense when the other
loses it.
I am quite satisfied with all you tell me about my friend. My
intention is certainly to see her again, if I am able; but I am
too old to lay plans, especially when it depends on the despot
gout to register or cancel them. It is even melancholy to see
her, when it will probably be but once more; and still more
melancholy, when we ought to say to one another, in a different
sense from the common, au revoir! However, as mine is a pretty
cheerful kind of philosophy, I think the best way is to think
of dying, but to talk and act as if one was not to die; or else
one tires other people, and dies before one's time. I have
truly all the affection and attachment for her that she
deserves from me, or I should not be so very thankful as I am
for your kindness to her. The Choiseuls will certainly return
at Christmas, and will make her life much more agreeable. The
Duchess has as much attention to her as I could have; but that
will not keep me from making her a visit.
I have only seen, not known, the younger Madame de Boufflers.
For her musical talents, I am little worthy of them-yet I am
just going to Lady Bingham's to hear the Bastardella, whom,
though the first singer in Italy, Mrs. Yates could not or would
not agree with,(166) and she is to have twelve hundred pounds
for singing twelve times at the Pantheon, where, if she had a
voice as loud as Lord Clare's, she could not be heard. The two
bon-mots You sent me are excellent; but, alas! I had heard them
both before; consequently your own, which is very good too,
pleased me much more. M. de Stainville I think you will not
like: he has sense, but has a dry military harshness, that at
least did not suit me--and then I hate his barbarity to his
Wife.(167)
You was very lucky indeed to get one of the sixty tickets.(168)
Upon the whole, your travels have been very fortunate, and the
few mortifications amply compensated. If a Duke(169) has been
spiteful when your back was turned, a hero-king has been all
courtesy. If another King has been silent, an emperor has been
singularly gracious- -Frowns or silence may happen to anybody:
the smiles have been addressed to you particularly. So was the
ducal frown indeed-but would you have earned a smile at the
price set on it? One cannot do right and be always applauded--
but in such cases are not frowns tantamount?
As my letter will not set forth till the day after to-morrow, I
reserve the rest for my additional news, and this time will
reserve it.
St. Parliament's day, 29th, after breakfast.
The speech is said to be firm, and to talk of the
rebellion(170) of our province of Massachusetts. No sloop is
yet arrived to tell us how to call the rest. Mr. Van(171) is
to move for the expulsion of Wilkes; which will distress, and
may produce an odd scene. Lord Holland is certainly dead; the
papers say, Robinson too, but that I don't know--so many deaths
of late make report kill to right and left.
(161) Two rival Eloges of Fontenelle, by ChamPfort and La
Harpe.-E.
(162) A cant phrase of Mr. Walpole's; which took its rise from
the following story:--The tutor of a young Lord Castlecomer,
who lived at Twickenham with his mother, having broken his leg,
and somebody pitying the poor man to Lady Castlecomer, she
replied, "Yes indeed, it is very inconvenient to my Lord
Castlecomer."-E.
(163) Dr. James Johnson.-E.
(164) The seizure of Fort William and Mary, near Portsmouth, in
New Hampshire, by the provincial militia, in which they found
many barrels of gunpowder, several pieces of cannon, etc.-E.
(165) Augustus Hervey, to whom she was first married.
(166) Mrs. Yates was at this time joint manager of the Opera
with Mrs. Brook. In November 1773, she spoke a Poetical
exordium, by which it appeared that she intended mixing plays
with operas, and entertaining the public with singing and
declamation alternately; but permission could not be obtained
from the Lord Chamberlain to put this plan into execution.-E.
(167) Upon a suspicion OF gallantry with Clairval, an actor,
she was confined for life in the convent Of les filles de
Sainte Marie, at Nancy.-E.
(168) To see the Lit de Justice held by Louis XVI. when he
recalled the Parliament of Paris, at the instigation of the
Chancellor Maupeou, and suppressed the new one of their
creation.
(169) The Duke de Choiseul.
(170) The King's Speech announced, "that a most daring spirit
of resistance and disobedience to the law still unhappily
prevailed in the province of Massachusett's Bay;" and expressed
the King's "firm and steadfast resolution to withstand every
attempt to weaken or impair the supreme authority Of this
legislature over all the dominions of his crown: the
maintenance of which he considered as essential to the dignity,
the safety, and welfare of the British empire."-E.
(171) Charles Van, Esq. member for Brecon town. No motion for
the expulsion of Wilkes took place.-E.
Letter 82 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Arlington Street, Dec. 15, 1774. (page 118)
As I wrote to Lady Ailesbury but on Tuesday, I should not have
followed it so soon with this, if I had nothing to tell you but
of myself. My gouts are never dangerous, and the shades of
them not important. However, to despatch this article at once,
I will tell you, that the, pain I felt yesterday in my elbow
made me think all former pain did not deserve the name.
Happily the torture did not last above two hours; and, which is
more surprising, it is all the real pain I have felt; for
though my hand has been as sore as if flayed, and that both
feet are lame, the bootikins demonstrably prevent or extract
the sting of it, and I see no reason not to expect to get out
in a fortnight more. Surely, if I am laid up but one month in
two years, instead of five or six, I have reason to think the
bootikins sent from heaven.
The long expected sloop is arrived at last, and is indeed a man
of war! The General Congress have voted a non-importation, a
non-exportation, a non-consumption; that, in case of
hostilities committed by the troops at Boston, the several
provinces will march to the assistance of their countrymen;
that the cargoes of ships now at sea shall be sold on their
arrival, and the money arising thence given to the poor at
Boston.; that a letter, in the nature of a petition of rights,
shall be sent to the King; another to the House of Commons; a
third to the people of England; a demand of repeal of all the
acts of Parliament affecting North America passed during this
reign, as also of the Quebec-bill: and these resolutions not to
be altered till such repeal is obtained.
Well, I believe you do not regret being neither in parliament
nor in administration! As you are an idle man, and have
nothing else to do, you may sit down and tell one a remedy for
all this. Perhaps you will give yourself airs, and say you was
a prophet, and that prophets are not honoured in their own
country. Yet, if you have any inspiration about you, I assure
you it will be of great service-we are at our wit's end-which
was no great journey. Oh! you conclude Lord Chatham's crutch
will be supposed a wand, and be sent for. They might as well
send for my crutch; and they should not have it; the stile is a
little too high to help them over. His Lordship is a little
fitter for raising a storm than laying one, and of late seems
to have lost both virtues. The Americans at least have acted
like men,(172) gone to the"bottom at once, and set the whole
upon the whole. Our conduct has been that of pert children: we
have thrown a pebble at a mastiff, and are surprised that it
was not frightened. Now we must kill the guardian of the house
which will be plundered the moment little master has nothing
but the old nurse to defend it. But I have done with
reflections; you will be fuller of them than I.
(172) "I have not words to express my satisfaction," says Lord
Chatham in a letter of the 24th, "that the Congress has
conducted this most arduous and delicate business with such
manly Wisdom and calm resolution, as do the highest honour to
their deliberations. Very few are the things contained in
their resolves, that I could wish had been otherwise."
Correspondence, vol. ii, p. 368.-$.
Letter 83 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Arlington Street, Dec. 26, 1774. (page 119)
I begin my letter to-day, to prevent the fatigue of dictating
two to-morrow. In the first and best place, I am very near
recovered; that is, though still a mummy, I have no pain left,
nor scarce any sensation of gout except in my right hand, which
is still in complexion and shape a lobster's claw. Now, unless
any body can prove to me that three weeks are longer than five
months and a half, they will hardly convince me that the
bootikins are not a cure for fits of the gout and a Very short
cure, though they cannot prevent it: nor perhaps is it to be
wished they should; for, if the gout prevents every thing else,
would not one have something that does? I have but one single
doubt left about the bootikins, which is, whether they do not
weaken my breast: but as I am sensible that my own spirits do
half the mischief, and that, if I could have held my tongue,
and kept from talking and dictating letters, I should not have
been half so bad as I have been, there remains but half due to
bootikins on the balance: and surely the ravages of the last
long fit, and two years more in age, ought to make another
deduction. Indeed, my forcing myself to dictate my last letter
to you almost killed me; and since the gout is not dangerous to
me, if I am kept perfectly quiet, my good old friend must have
patience, and not insist upon letters from me but when it is
quite easy to me to send them. So much for me and my gout. I
will now endeavour to answer such parts of your last letters as
I can in this manner, and considering how difficult it is to
read your writing in a dark room.
I have not yet been able to look into the French harangues you
sent me. Voltaire's verses to Robert Covelle are not only very
bad, but very contemptible.
I am delighted with all the honours you receive, and with all
the amusements they procure you, which is the best part of
honours. For the glorious part, I am always like the man in
Pope's Donne,
"Then happy he who shows the tombs, said I."
That is, they are least troublesome there. The
serenissime(173) you met at Montmorency is one of the least to
my taste; we quarrelled about Rousseau, and I never went near
him after my first journey. Madame du Deffand will tell you
the story, if she has not forgotten it.
It is supposed here, that the new proceedings of the French
Parliament will produce great effects: I don't suppose any such
thing. What America will produce I know still less; but
certainly something very serious. The merchants have summoned
a meeting for the second of next month, and the petition from
the Congress to the King is arrived. The heads have been shown
to Lord Dartmouth; but I hear one of the agents is again
presenting it; yet it is thought it will be delivered, and then
be ordered to be laid before Parliament. The whole affair has
already been talked of there on the army and navy-days; and
Burke, they say, has shone with amazing Wit and ridicule on the
late inactivity of Gage, and his losing his cannon and straw;
on his being entrenched in a town with an army of observation;
with that army being, as Sir William Meredith had said, an
asylum for magistrates, and to secure the port. Burke said, he
had heard of an asylum for debtors and whores, never for
magistrates; and of ships never of armies securing a port.
This is all there has been in Parliament, but elections.
Charles Fox's place did not come into question. Mr. * * *, who
is one of the new elect, has opened, but with no success.
There is a seaman, Luttrell,(174) that promises much better.
I am glad you like the Duchess de Lauzun:(175) she is one of my
favourites. The H`otel du Chatelet promised to be very fine,
but was not finished when I was last at Paris. I was much
pleased with the person that slept against St. Lambert's poem:
I wish I had thought of the nostrum, when Mr. Seward, a
thousand years ago, at Lyons, would read an epic poem to me
just as I had received a dozen letters from England. St.
Lambert is a great Jackanapes, and a very tiny genius: I
suppose the poem was The Seasons, which is four fans spun out
into a Georgic. If I had not been too ill, I should have
thought of bidding you hear midnight mass on Christmas-eve in
Madame du Deffand's tribune, as I used to do. To be sure, you
know that her apartment was part of Madame du Montespan's,
whose arms are on the back of the grate in Madame du Deffand's
own bedchamber. Apropos, ask her to show you Madame de Prie's
pinture, M. le Duc's mistress--I am very fond of it--and make
her tell you her history.(176)
I have but two or three words more. Remember my parcel of
letters from Madame du Deffand,(177) and pray remember this
injunction not to ruin yourselves in bringing presents. A very
slight fairing of a guinea or two obliges as much,
is much more fashionable, and not a moment sooner forgotten
than a magnificent one; and then you may very cheaply oblige
the more persons; but as the sick fox, in Gay's Fables, says
(for one always excepts oneself),
"A chicken too might do me good."
i allow you to go as far as three or even five guineas for a
snuff-box for me; and then, as ***** told the King, when he
asked for the reversion of the lighthouse for two lives, and
the King reproached him, with having always advised him against
granting reversions; he replied, "Oh! Sir, but if your Majesty
will give me this, I will take care you shall never give away
another." Adieu, with my own left hand.
(173) The Prince de Conti.
(174) The Hon. James Luttrell, fourth son of Lord Irnham, a
lieutenant in the navy.-E.
(175) She became Duchesse de Biron upon the death of her
husband's uncle, the Marechal Duke de Biron. See vol. iii.,
Letter to John Montagu, Feb. 4, 1766, letter 294. Her person
is thus described by Rousseau:--"Am`elie de Boufflers a une
figure, une douceur, une timidit`e devierge: rien de plus
aimable et de plus int`eressant que sa figure; rien de plus
tendre et de plus chaste que
les sentiments qu'elle inspire."-E.
(176) Madame de Prie was the mistress of the Regent Duke of
Orleans. A full account of her family, character, etc. will be
found in Duclos's Memoirs.-E.
(177) At Walpole's earnest solicitation, Madame du Deffand
returned by General Conway all the letters she had received
from him. In so doing, she thus wrote to him:--"Vous aurez
longtemps de quoi allumer votre feu, surtout si vous joignez `a
ce que j'avais de vous avez de moi, et rien ne serait plus
juste: mais je m'en rapporte `a votre prudence; je ne suivrai
pas l'exemple de m`efiance que vous me donnez."-E.
Letter 84 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Arlington Street, Dec. 31, 1774. (page 121)
No child was ever so delighted to go into breeches, as I was
this morning to get on a pair of cloth shoes as big as Jack
Harris's: this joy may be the spirits of dotage-but what
signifies whence one is happy? Observe, too, that this is
written with my own right hand, with the bootikin actually upon
it, which has no distinction of fingers: so I no longer see any
miracle in Buckinger, who was famous for writing without hands
or feet; as it was indifferent which one uses, provided one has
a pair of either. Take notice, I write so much better without
fingers than with, that I advise you to try a bootikin. To be
sure, the operation is a little slower; but to a prisoner, the
duration of his amusement is of far more consequence than the
vivacity of it.
Last night I received your very kind, I might say your letter
tout court, of Christmas-day. By this time I trust you are
quite out of pain about me. My fit has been as regular as
possible; only, as if the bootikins were post-horses, it made
the grand tour of all my limbs in three weeks. If it will
always use the same expedition, I m content it should take the
journey once in two years. You must not mind my breast: it was
always the weakest part of a very weak system ; yet did not
suffer now by the gout, but in consequence of it; and would not
have been near so bad, if I could have kept from talking and
dictating letters. The moment I am out of pain, I am in high
spirits ; and though I never take any medicines, there is one
thing absolutely necessary to be put into my mouth--a gag. At
present, the town is so empty that my tongue is a sinecure.
I am well acquainted with the Biblioth`eque du Roi, and the
medals, and the prints. I spent an entire day in looking over
the English portraits, and kept the librarian without his
dinner till dark night, till I was satisfied. Though the
Choiseuls(178) will not acquaint with you, I hope their Abb`e
Barthelemil(179) is not put under the same quarantine. Besides
great learning, he has infinite wit and polissonnerie and is
one of the best kind of men in the world. As to the
grandpapa,(180) il ne nous aime pas nous autres, and has never
forgiven Lord Chatham. Though exceedingly agreeable himself, I
don't think his taste exquisite. Perhaps I was piqued; but he
seemed to like Wood better than any of US. Indeed, I am a
little afraid that my dear friend's impetuous zeal may have
been a little too prompt in pressing you upon them d'abord:--
but don't say a word of this--it is her great goodness.--I
thank you a million of times for all yours to her:-she is
perfectly grateful for it. The Chevalier'S(181) verses are
pretty enough. I own I like Saurin's(182) much better than you
seem to do. Perhaps I am prejudiced by the curse on the
Chancellor at the end.
Not a word of news here. In a sick room one hears all there
is, but I have not even a lie; but as this will not set out
these three days, it is to be hoped some charitable Christian
will tell a body one. Lately indeed we heard that the King of
Spain had abdicated; but I believe it was some stockjobber that
had deposed him.
Lord George Cavendish, for my solace in my retirement, has
given me a book, the History of his own Furness-abbey, written
by a Scotch ex-Jesuit.(183) I cannot say that this unnatural
conjunction of a Cavendish and a Jesuit has produced a lively
colt; but I found one passage worth any money. It is an
extract of a constable's journal kept during the civil war; and
ends thus: "And there was never heard of such troublesome and
distracted times as these five years have been, but especially
for constables." It is so natural, that inconvenient to my
Lord Castlecomer is scarce a better proverb.
Pray tell Lady Ailesbury that though she has been so very good
to me, I address my letters to you rather than to her, because
my pen is not always-upon its guard, but is apt to say whatever
comes into its nib; and then, if she peeps over your shoulder,
I am cens`e not to know it. Lady Harriet's wishes have done me
great good: nothing but a father's gout could be obdurate
enough to resist them. My Mrs. Damer says nothing to me; but I
give her intentions credit, and lay her silence on you.
January 1. 1775. a happy new year!
I walk! I walk! walk alone!--I have been five times quite
round my rooms to-day, and my month is not up! The day after
to-morrow I shall go down into the dining-room; the next week
to take the air: and then if Mrs. * * * * is very pressing,
why, I don't know what may happen. Well! but you want news,
there are none to be had. They think there is a ship lost with
Gage's despatches. Lady Temple gives all her diamonds to Miss
Nugent.(184) Lord Pigot lost 400 pounds the other night at
Princess Amelia's. Miss Davis(185) has carried her cause
against Mrs. Yates and is to sing again at the Opera. This is
all my coffee-house furnished this morning.
(178) Mr. Conway and the ladies of his party had met with the
most flattering and distinguished reception at Paris from every
body but the Duc and Duchesse de Choiseul, who rather seemed to
decline their acquaintance.
(179) The author of the Voyage du Jenne Anacharsis.
(180) A name given to the Duc de Choiseul by Madame du Deffand.
(181) Verses written by the Chevalier de Boufflers, to be
presented by Madame du Deffand to the Duke and Duchess of
Choiseul.
(182) They were addressed to M. do Malesherbes, then premier
president de la Cour des Aides; afterwards, still more
distinguished by his having been the intrepid advocate Selected
by the unfortunate Louis the Sixteenth on his trial. He soon
after perished by the same guillotine, from which he could not
preserve his ill-fated master-E.
(183) "The Antiquities of Furness; or
an account of the Royal Abbey of St. mary, in the vale Of
Nightshade, near Dalton, in Furness." London, 1774 4to. This
volume, which was dedicated to Lord George Cavendish, Was
written by Thomas West, the antiquary, who was likewise the
author of "A Guide to the Lakes in Cumberland, Westmoreland,
and Lancashire."-E.
(184) Mary, only daughter and heiress
of Robert Earl Nugent, of the kingdom of Ireland. She was
married, on the 16th of May, 1775, to George Grenville, second
Earl Temple, who then assumed, by royal permission, the
surnames of Nugent and Temple before that of Grenville, and the
privilege of signing Nugent before all titles whatsoever. In
1784, he was created Marquis of Buckingham.-E.
(185) Cecilia Davis known in Italy by the name of L'Inglesina,
first appeared at the
Opera in 1773.
She was considered on the Continent as second only to Gabrieli,
and in England is said to have been surpassed only by Mrs.
Billington. She was a pupil of the celebrated Hasse and, after
having taught several crowned heads, died at an advanced age,
and in very distressed circumstances, in 1836.-E.
Letter 85To The Rev. Mr. Cole.
Arlington Street, Jan. 9, 1775. (page 124)
I every day intended to thank you for the copy of Nell Gwyn's
letter, till it was too late; the gout came, and Made me moult
my goosequill. The letter is very curious, and I am as well
content as with the original. It is lucky you do not care for
news more recent Than the Reformation. I should have none to
tell you; nay, nor earlier neither. Mr. Strutt's(186) second
volume I suppose you have seen. He showed me two or three much
better drawings from pictures in the possession of Mr. Ives.
One of them made me very happy; it is a genuine portrait of
Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, and is the individual same face
as that I guessed to be his in my Marriage of Henry VI. They
are infinitely more like each other, than any two modern
portraits of one person by different painters. I have been
laughed at for thinking the skull of Duke Humphrey at St.
Albans proved my guess; and yet it certainly does, and is the
more like, as the two portraits represent him very bald, with
only a ringlet of hair, as monks have. Mr. Strutt is going to
engrave his drawings. Yours faithfully.
(186) His " Complete Views of the Manners, Customs, Arms,
Habits, etc. of the Inhabitants of England from the arrival of
the Saxons till the reign of Henry the VIII.; with a short
Account of the Britons during the Government of the Romans."-E.
Letter 86 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Arlington Street, Jan, 15, 1775. (page 124)
You have made me very happy by saying your journey to Naples is
laid aside. Perhaps it made too great an impression on me; but
you must reflect, that all my life I have satisfied myself with
your being perfect, instead of trying to be so myself. I don't
ask you to return, though I wish it: in truth there is nothing
to invite you. I don't want you to come and breathe fire and
sword against the Bostonians, like that second Duke of Alva,
the inflexible Lord George Germain; or to anathematize the
court and its works, like the incorruptible Burke, who scorns
lucre, except when he can buy a hundred thousand acres from
naked Caribs for a song. I don't want you to do any thing like
a party-man. I trust you think of every party as I do, with
contempt, from Lord Chatham's mustard-bowl down to Lord
Rockingham's hartshorn. All, perhaps, will be tried in their
turns, and yet, if they had genius, might not be Mighty enough
to save us. From some ruin or other I think nobody can, and
what signifies an option of mischiefs? An account is come of
the Bostonians having voted an army of sixteen thousand men,
who are to be called minute-men, as they are to be ready at a
minute's warning. Two directors or commissioners, I don't know
what they are called, are appointed. There has been too a kind
of mutiny in the fifth regiment. A soldier was found drunk on
his post. Gage, in his time of danger, thought vigour
necessary, and sent the fellow to a court-martial. They
ordered two hundred lashes. The general ordered them to
improve their sentence. Next day it was published in the
Boston Gazette. He called them before him, and required them
on oath to abjure the communication, three officers refused.
Poor Gage is to be scape-goat, not for this, but for what was a
reason against employing him, incapacity. I Wonder at the
precedent! Howe is talked of for his successor. Well, I have
done with you!--Now I shall go gossip with Lady Ailesbury
You must know, Madam, that near Bath is erected a new
Parnassus, composed of three laurels,- a myrtle-tree, a
weeping-willow, and a view of the Avon, which has been
new-christened Helicon. Ten years ago there lived a Madam
Riggs, an old rough humourist who passed for a wit; her
daughter, who passed for nothing, married to a Captain Miller,
full of good-natured officiousness. These good folks were
friends of Miss Rich,(187) who carried me to dine with them at
Batheaston, now Pindus. They caught a little of what was then
called taste, built and planted, and begot children, till the
whole caravan- were forced to. go abroad to retrieve. Alas!
Mrs. Miller is returned-' a beauty, a genius, a Sappho, a
Muse, as romantic as Mademoiselle Scuderi, and as sophisticated
as Mrs. Vesey. The captain's fingers are loaded with cameos,
his tongue runs over with virt`u, and that both may contribute
to the improvement of their own country, they have introduced
bouts-rim`es as a new discovery. They hold a Parnassus-fair
every Thursday, give out rhymes and themes, and all the flux of
quality at Bath contend for the prizes. A Roman vase dressed
with pink ribands and myrtles receives the poetry which is
drawn out every festival; six judges of these Olympic games
retire and select the brightest compositions, which the
respective successful acknowledge, kneel to Mrs. Calliope
Miller, kiss her fair hand, and are crowned by it with myrtle,
with--I don't know what. You may think this is fiction, or
exaggeration. Be dumb, unbelievers! The collection is printed,
published. (188) Yes, on my faith, there are bouts-rim`es on a
buttered muffin, made by her grace the Duchess of
Northumberland;(189) receipts to make them by Corydon the
venerable, alias George Pitt; others very pretty, by Lord
Palmerston;(190) some by Lord Carlisle; many by Mrs. Miller
herself, that have no fault but wanting metre; and immortality
promised to her without end or measure. In short, since folly,
which never ripens to madness but in this hot climate, ran
distracted, there was never any thing so entertaining or so
dull--for you cannot read so long as I have been telling.(191)
January 17.
Before I could finish this, I received your despatches by Sir
Thomas Clarges, and a most entertaining letter in three tomes.
It is being very dull, not to be able to furnish a quarter so
much from your own country-but what can I do? You are embarked
in a new world, and I am living on the scraps of an old one, of
which I am tired. The best I can do is to reply to your
letter, and not attempt to amuse you when I have nothing to
say. I think the Parliament meets today, or in a day or
two-but I hope you are coming. Your brother says so, and
Madame du Deffand says so; and sure it is time to leave Paris,
when you know ninety of the inhabitants.(192) There seems much
affectation in those that will not know you;(193) and
affectation is always a littleness--it has been even rude: but
to be sure the rudeness one feels least, was that which is
addressed to one before there has been any acquaintance.
Ninon came,(194) because, on Madame du Deffand's mentioning it,
I concluded it a new work, and am disappointed. I can say this
by heart. The picture of Madame de Prie, which you don't seem
to value, and so Madame du Deffand says, I believe I shall
dispute with you; I think it charming, but when offered to me
years ago, I would not take it--it was now given to you a
little a mon intention.
I am sorry that, amongst all the verses you have sent me, you
should have forgotten what you commend the most, Les trois
exclamations. I hope you will bring them with you. Voltaire's
are intolerably stupid, and not above the level of officers in
garrison. Some of M. de Pezay's are very pretty, though there
is too much of them; and in truth I had seen them before.
Those on Madame de la Vali`ere pretty too, but one is a little
tired of Venus and the Graces. I am most pleased with your
own--and if you have a mind to like them still better, make
Madame du Deffand show you mine, which are neither French, nor
measure, nor metre. She is unwilling to tell me so-, which
diverts me. Yours are really genteel and new.
I envy you the Russian Anecdotes(195) more than M. de
Chamfort's Fables, of which I know nothing; and as you say no
more, I conclude I lose not much. The stories of Sir
Charles(196) are so far not new to me, that I heard them of him
from abroad after he was mad: but I believe no mortal of his
acquaintance ever heard them before; nor did they at all
correspond with his former life, with his treatment of his
wife, or his history with Mrs. Woffington, qui n'`etait pas
dupe. I say nothing on the other stories you tell me of
billets dropped,(197) et pour cause.
I think I have touched all your paragraphs, and have nothing
new to send you in return. In truth, I go nowhere but into
private rooms,; for I am not enough recovered to relaunch into
the world, when I have so good an excuse for avoiding it. The
bootikins have done wonders; but even two or three such
victories will cost too dear. I submit very patiently to my
lot. I am old and broken, and it never was my system to impose
upon myself when one can deceive nobody else. I have spirits
enough for my use, that is, amongst my friends and
contemporaries: I like Young people and their happiness for
every thing but to live with; but I cannot learn their
language, nor tell them old stories, of which I must explain
every step as I go. Politics' the proper resource of age, I
detest--I am Contented, but see few that are so--and I never
will be led by any man's self-interest. A great scene is
opening, of which I cannot expect to see the end! I am pretty
sure not a happy end--so that, in short, I am determined to
think the rest of my life but a postscript: and as this has
been too long an One, I will wish You good night, repeating
what you know already, that the return of you three is the most
agreeable prospect I expect to see realized. Adieu!
(187) Daughter of Sir Robert Rich, and sister to the second
wife of George Lord Lyttelton.
(188) They were published under the title of "Poetical
Amusements at a Villa near Bath." An edition appeared in 1781,
in four volumes.-E.
(189) "The pen which I now take and brandish
Has long lain useless in my standish.
Know, every maid, from her on patten,
To her who shines in glossy satin,
That could they now prepare an oglio
>From best receipt of book in folio,
Ever so fine, for all their puffing,
I should prefer a butter'd muffin;
A muffin Jove himself might feast on,
If eat with Miller at Batheaston."-E.
(190) The following are the concluding lines of a poem on
Beauty, by Lord Palmerston:--
"In vain the stealing hand of Time
May pluck the blossoms of their prime;
Envy may talk of bloom decay'd,
How lilies droop and roses fade;
But Constancy's unalter'd truth,
Regardful of the vows of youth,
Affection that recalls the past,
And bids the pleasing influence last,
Shall still preserve the lover's flame
In every scene of life the same;
And still with fond endearments blend
The wife, the mistress, and the friend!"-E.
(191) "Lady Miller's collection of verses by fashionable
people, which were put into her vase at Batheaston, in
competition for honourary prizes being mentioned, Dr. Johnson
held them very cheap: 'Bouts-rim`es,' said be, 'is a mere
conceit, and an old conceit; I wonder how people were persuaded
to write in that manner for this lady.' I named a gentleman of
his acquaintance who wrote for the vase. Johnson--'He was a
blockhead for his pains!' Boswell. 'The Duchess of
Northumberland wrote.' Johnson: 'Sir, the Duchess of
Northumberland may do what she pleases; nobody will say any
thing to a lady of her high rank: but I should be apt to throw
* * * *'s verses in his face.'" Boswell. vol. v. p. 227.-E.
(192) Madame du Deffand, writing of General Conway to Walpole,
had said--"Savez-vous combien il connait d`ej`a de personnes
dans Paris? Quatre.vingt dix. Il n'est nullement sauvage."-E.
(193) The Duc du Choiseul.
(194) The Life of Ninon de l'Enclos.
(195) The account of the revolution in Russia which placed
Catherine II. on the throne, by M. de la Rulhi`ere, afterwards
Published. Mr. Conway had heard it read in manuscript in a
private society.
(196) Sir Charles Hanbury Williams.
(197) This alludes to circumstances Mr. Conway mentions as
having taken place at a ball at Versailles.
Letter 87 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.(198)
January 22, 1775. (page 128)
After the magnificent overture for peace from Lord Chatham,
that I announced to Madame du Deffand, you will be most
impatient for my letter. Ohin`e! you will be sadly
disappointed. Instead of drawing a circle with his wand round
the House of Lords, and ordering them to pacify America, on the
terms he prescribed before they ventured to quit the
circumference of his commands, he brought a ridiculous,
uncommunicated, unconsulted motion for addressing the King
immediately to withdraw the troops from Boston, as an earnest
of lenient measures. The Opposition stared and shrugged; the
courtiers stared and laughed. His own two or three adherents
left him, except Lord Camden and Lord Shelburne, and except
Lord Temple, who is not his adherent and was not there.
Himself was not much animated, but very hostile; particularly
on Lord Mansfield, who had taken care not to be there. He
talked of three millions of Whigs in America, and told the
ministers they were checkmated and had not a move left to make.
Lord Camden was as strong. Lord Suffolk was thought to do
better than ever, and Lord Lyttelton's declamation was
commended as usual. At last, Lord Rockingham, very punily, and
the Duke of Richmond joined and supported the motion; but at
eight at night it was rejected by 68 to 18, though the Duke of
Cumberland voted for it.(199)
This interlude would be only entertaining, if the scene was not
so totally gloomy. The cabinet have determined on civil war,
and regiments are going from Ireland and our West Indian
islands. On Thursday the plan of the war is to be laid before
both Houses. To-morrow the merchants carry their petition;
which, I suppose, will be coolly received, since, if I hear
true, the system is to cut off all traffic with America at
present--as, you know, we can revive it when we please. There!
there is food for meditation! Your reflections, as you
understand the subject better than I do, will go further than
mine could. Will the French you converse with be civil and
keep their countenances?
George Damer(200) t'other day proclaimed your departure for the
25th; but the Duchess of Richmond received a whole cargo of
letters from ye all on Friday night, which talk of a fortnight
or three weeks longer. Pray remember it is not decent to be
dancing at Paris, when there is a civil war in your own
country. You would be like the Country squire, who passed by
with his hounds as the battle of Edgehill began.
January 24.
I am very sorry to tell you the Duke of Gloucester is dying.
About three weeks ago the physicians said it was absolutely
necessary for him to go abroad immediately. He dallied, but
was actually preparing. He now cannot go, and probably will
not live many days, as he has had two shivering fits, and the
physicians give the Duchess no hopes.(201) Her affliction and
courage are not to be described; they take their turns as she
is in the room with him or not. His are still greater. His
heart is broken, and yet his firmness and coolness amazing. I
pity her beyond measure; and it is not a time to blame her
having accepted an honour which so few women could have
resisted, and scarce one ever has resisted.
The London and Bristol merchants carried their petitions
yesterday to the House of Commons. The Opposition contended
for their being heard by the committee of the whole House, who
are to consider the American papers; but the Court sent them to
a committee(202) after a debate till nine at night, with
nothing very remarkable, on divisions of 197 to 81, and 192 to
65. Lord Stanley(203) spoke for the first time; his voice and
manner pleased, but his matter was not so successful.
Dowdeswell(204 is dead, and Tom Hervey.(205) The latter sent
for his Wife and acknowledged her. Don't forget to inform me
when my letters must stop. Adieu! Yours ever.
(198) Now first printed.
(199) In the Chatham correspondence will be found another, and
a very different, account of this debate, in a letter to Lady
Chatham, from their son William:--"Nothing," he says,
"prevented my father's speech from being the most forcible that
can be imagined, and the administration fully felt it. The
matter and manner were striking; far beyond what I can express.
It was every thing that was superior; and though it had not the
desired effect on an obdurate House of Lords, it must have an
infinite effect without doors, the bar being crowded with
Americans, etc. Lord Suffolk, I cannot say answered him, but
spoke after him. He was a contemptible orator indeed, with
paltry matter and a whining delivery. Lord Shelburne spoke
well, and supported the motion warmly. Lord Camden was
supreme, with only One exception, and as zealous as possible.
Lord Rockingham spoke shortly, but sensibly; and the Duke of
Richmond well, and with much candour as to the Declaratory act.
Upon the whole, it was a noble debate. The ministry were
violent beyond expectation, almost to madness. instead of
recalling the troops now there, they talked of sending more.
My father has had no pain, but is lame in one ankle near the
instep from standing so long. No wonder he is lame: his first
speech lasted above an hour, and the second half an hour;
surely, the two finest speeches that ever were made before,
unless by himself!" Dr. Franklin too, who heard the debate,
says, in reference to Lord Chatham's speech-"I am filled with
admiration of that truly great man. I have seen, in the course
of my life, sometimes eloquence without wisdom and often wisdom
without eloquence: in the present instance, I see both united,
and both, as I think, in the highest degree possible." Vol. iv.
pp. 375, 385.-E.
(200) Afterwards second Earl of Dorchester-E.
(201) His Royal Highness survived this illness more than thirty
years.-E.
(202) This committee was wittily called by Mr. Burke, and
afterwards generally known as "the committee of oblivion."-E.
(203) Afterwards Earl of Derby-E.
(204) The Right Hon. William Dowdeswell, of Pull Court, member
for the county of Worcester. He died at Nice, whither he had
gone for the recovery of his health.-E.
(205) The Hon. Thomas Hervey, second son of John first Earl of
Bristol.-E.
Letter 88 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.
Arlington Street, April 11, 1775. (page 129)
I thank you, dear Sir, for your kind letter., and the good
account YOU give of yourself-nor can I blame your change from
writing that is, transcribing, to reading--sure you ought to
divert yourself rather than others-though I should not say s,
if your pen had not confined itself to transcripts.
I am perfectly well, and heed not the weather; though I wish
the seasons came a little oftener into their own places instead
of each Other's. From November, till a fortnight ago, we had
much warmth that I should often be glad of in summer--and since
we are not sure of it then, was rejoiced when I could get it.
For myself, I am a kind of delicate Hercules; and though made
of paper, have, by temperance, by using as much cold water
inwardly and outwardly as I can, and by taking no precautions
against catching cold, and braving all weathers, become capable
of suffering by none. My biennial visitant, the gout, has
yielded to the bootikins, and stayed with me this last time but
five weeks in lieu of five months. Stronger men perhaps would
kill themselves by my practice, but it has done so long with
me, I shall trust to it.
I intended writing to you on Gray's Life,(206) if you had not
prevented me. I am charmed with it, and prefer it to all the
biography I ever saw. The style is excellent, simple,
unaffected; the method admirable, artful, and judicious. He
has framed the fragments, as a person said, so well, that they
are fine drawings, if not finished pictures. For my part, I am
so interested in it, that I shall certainly read it over and
over. I do not find that it is likely to be the case with many
yet. Never was a book, which people pretended to expect so
much with impatience, less devoured-at least in London, where
quartos are not of quick digestion. Faults are found, I hear,
at Eton with the Latin Poems for false quantities-no
matter-they are equal to the English -and can one say more?
At Cambridge, I should think the book would both offend much
and please; at least if they are as sensible to humour as to
ill-humour; and there is orthodoxy enough to wash down a camel.
The Scotch and the Reviewers will be still more angry. and the
latter have not a syllable to pacify them. So they who wait
for their decisions will probably miss of reading the most
entertaining book in the world--a punishment which they who
trust to such wretched judges deserve; for who are more
contemptible than such judges, but they who pin their faith on
them?
In answer to you, yourself, my good Sir, I shall not subscribe
to your censure of Mr. Mason, whom I love and admire, and who
has shown the greatest taste possible in the execution of this
work. Surely he has said enough in gratitude, and done far
beyond what gratitude could demand., It seems delicacy in
expatiating on the legacy; particularizing more gratitude would
have lessened the evidence of friendship, and made the 'justice
done to Gray's character look more like a debt.,_ He speaks of
him in slender circumstances, not as distressed: and so he was
till after the deaths of his parents and aunts; and even then
surely not rich. I think he does somewhere say that he meant to
be buried with his mother, and not specifying any other place
confirms it. In short, Mr. Mason shall never know your
criticisms; he has a good heart, and would feel them, though
certainly not apprised that he would merit them. A man who has
so called out all his -friend's virtues, could not want them
himself.
I shall be much obliged to you for the prints you destine for
me. The Earl of Cumberland I have, and will not rob you of. I
wish you had been as successful with Mr. G. as with Mr. T. I
mean, if you are not yet paid-now is the time, for he has sold
his house to the Duke of Marlborough-I suppose he will not keep
his prints long: he changes his pursuits Continually and
extravagantly-and then sells to indulge new fancies.
I have had a piece of luck within these two days. I have long
lamented our having no certain piece written by Anne Boleyn's
brother, Lord Rochford. I have found a very pretty copy of
verses by him in the new published volume of the Nuge Antiquae,
though by mistake he is called, Earl of, instead Of Viscount,
Rochford. They are taken from a MS-dated twenty-eight years
after the author's death, and are much in the manner of Lord
Surrey's and Sir T. Wyat's poems. I should at first have
doubted if they were not counterfeited, on reading my Noble
Authors; but then the blunder of earl for viscount would hardly
have been committed. A little modernized and softened in the
cadence, they would be very pretty.
I have got the rest of the Digby pictures, but at a very high
rate. There is one very large of Sir Kenelm, his wife, and two
sons, in exquisite preservation, though the heads of him and
his wife are not so highly finished as those I have--yet the
boys and draperies are so that, together with the size, it is
certainly the most capital miniature in the world: there are a
few more, very fine too. I shall be happy to show them to you,
whenever You Burnhamize--I mean before August, when I propose
making MY dear old blind friend a visit at Paris--nothing else
would carry me thither. I am too old to seek diversions, and
too indolent to remove to a distance by choice, though not so
immovable as YOU to much less distance. Adieu! Pray tell me
what you hear is said of Gray's Life at Cambridge.
(206) "The Poems of Mr. Gray: to which are prefixed Memoirs of
his Life and Writings; by W, Mason, M A, York, 1775." At the
end of Mason's work Mr. Cole wrote the following memorandum:--
"I am by no means satisfied with this Life; it has too much the
affectation of classical shortness to please me, More
circumstances would have suited my taste better; besides, I
think the biographer had a mind to revenge himself of the
sneerings Mr. Gray put upon him, though he left him, I guess,
above a thousand pounds, which is slightly hinted at only; yet
Mr. Walpole was quite satisfied with the work when I made my
objection." A copy of Gray's will is given in the Rev. J.
Mitford's very valuable edition of the poet's works, published
by Pickering, in four volumes, in 1836.-E.
Letter 89 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.
Arlington Street, April 5, 1775. (page 132)
The least I can do, dear Sir, in gratitude for the cargo of
prints I have received to-day from you, is to send you a
medicine. A pair of bootikins will set out to-morrow morning
in the machine that goes from the Queen's-head in
Gray's-inn-lane. To be certain, you had better send for them
where the machine inns, lest they should neglect delivering
them at Milton. My not losing a moment shows my zeal; but if
you can bear a little pain, I should not press you to use them.
I have suffered so dreadfully, that I constantly wear them to
diminish the stock of gout in my constitution; but as your fit
is very slight, and will not last, and as you are pretty sure
by its beginning so late, that you will never have much; and s
the gout certainly carries off other complaints, had not you
better endure a little, when it is rather a remedy than a
disease? I do not desire to be entirely delivered from the
gout, for all reformations do but make room for some new
grievance: and in my opinion a disorder that requires no
physician, is preferable to any that does. However, I have put
relief in your power, and you will judge for yourself. You
must tie them as tight as you can bear, the flannel next to the
flesh; and, when you take them off, it should be in bed: rub
your feet with a warm cloth, and put on warm stockings, for
fear of catching cold while the pores are open. It would kill
any body but me, who am of adamant, to walk out in the dew in
winter in my slippers in half an hour after pulling off the
bootikins. A physician sent me word, good-naturedly, that
there was danger of catching cold after the bootikins, unless
one was careful. I thanked him, but told him my precaution
was, never taking any. All the winter I pass five days in a
week without walking out, and sit often by the fireside till
seven in the evening. When I do go out, whatever the weather
is, I go with both glasses of the coach down, and so I do at
midnight out of the hottest room. I have not had a single
cold, however slight, these two years.
You are too candid in submitting at once to my defence of Mr.
Mason. It is true I am more charmed with his book than I almost
ever was with one. I find more people like the grave letters
than those of humour, and some think the latter a little
affected, which is as wrong a judgment as they could make; for
Gray never wrote any thing easily but things of humour. Humour
was his natural and original turn--and though from his
childhood he was grave and reserved, his genius led him to see
things ludicrously and satirically; and though his health and
dissatisfaction gave him low spirits, his melancholy turn was
much more affected than his pleasantry in writing. You knew
him enough to know I am in the right-but the world in general
always wants to be told how to think, as well as what to think.
The print, I agree with you, though like, is a very
disagreeable likeness, and the worst likeness of him. It gives
the primness he had under constraint; and there is a blackness
in the countenance which was like him only the last time I ever
saw him, when I was much struck with it: and, though I did not
apprehend him in danger, it left an impression on me that was
uneasy, and almost prophetic of what I heard but too soon after
leaving him. Wilson drew the picture under such impression,
and I could not bear it in my room; Mr. Mason altered it a
little, but Still it is not well, nor gives any idea of the
determined virtues of his heart. It just serves to help the
reader to an image of the person whose genius and integrity
they must admire, if they are so happy as to have a taste for
either.
The Peep into the Gardens at Twickenham is a silly little book,
of which a few little copies were printed some years ago for
presents, and which now sets up for itself as a vendible book.
It is a most inaccurate, superficial, blundering account of
Twickenham and other places, drawn up by a Jewess, who has
married twice, and turned Christian, poetess, and authoress.
She has printed her poems, too, and one complimentary copy of
mine, which, in good breeding, I could not help Sending her in
return for violent compliments in verse to me. I do not
remember that hers were good; mine I know were very bad, and
certainly never intended for the press.
I bought the first volume of Manchester, but could not read it;
it was much too learned for me, and seemed rather an account of
Babel than Manchester, I mean in point of antiquity.(207) To
be sure, it is very kind in an author to promise one the
history of a country town, and give one a circumstantial
account of the antediluvian world into the bargain. But I am
simple and ignorant, and desire no more than I pay for. And
then for my progenitors, Noah and the Saxons, I have no
curiosity about them. Bishop Lyttelton used to plague me to
death about barrows, and tumuli, and Roman camps, and all those
bumps in the ground that do not amount to a most imperfect
ichnography; but, in good truth, I am content with all arts
when perfected, nor inquire how ingeniously people contrive to
do without them--and I care still less for remains of art that
retain no vestiges of art. Mr. Bryant,)208) who is sublime in
unknown knowledge, diverted me more, yet I have not finished
his work, no more than he has. There is a great ingenuity in
discovering all his history [though it has never been written]
by etymologies. Nay, he convinced me that the Greeks had
totally mistaken all they went to learn in Egypt, etc. by
doing, as the French do still, judge wrong by the ear--but as I
have been trying now and then for above forty years to learn
something, I have not time to unlearn it all again, though I
allow this our best sort of knowledge. If I should die when I
am not clear in the History of the World below its first three
thousand years, I should be at a sad loss on meeting with Homer
and Hesiod, or any of those moderns in the Elysian fields,
before I knew what I ought to think of them. Pray do not
betray my ignorance: the reviewers and such literati have
called me a learned and ingenious gentleman. I am sorry they
ever heard my name, but don't let them know how irreverently I
speak of the erudite, whom I dare to say they admire. These
wasps, I suppose, will be very angry at the just contempt Mr.
Gray had for them, and will, as insects do, attempt to sting,
in hopes that their twelvepenny readers will suck a little
venom from the momentary tumour they raise--but good night-and
once more, thank you for the prints. Yours ever.
(207) "The History of Manchester," by John Whitaker, B. D.
London, 1771-3-5. 2 vols. 4to. "We talked," says Boswell, "of
antiquarian researches. Johnson. 'All that is really known Of
the ancient state of Britain is contained in a few Pages. We
can know no more than what the old writers have told us; Yet
what large books we have upon it; the whole of which, excepting
such parts as are taken from these old writers, is all a dream,
such as Whitaker's Manchester.'" Life of Johnson, vol. vii. p.
189.-E.
(208) Jacob Bryan, the learned author of "A New System; or, n
Analysis of Ancient Mythology," 4to. 1774-6, 3 vols.; and of
many other works. His character was thus finely drawn, in
1796, by Mr. Matthias, in "The Pursuits of Literature:"--"No
man of literature can pass by the name of Mr. Bryant without
gratitude and reverence. He is a gentleman of attainments
peculiar to himself, and of classical erudition without an
equal in Europe. His whole life has been spent in laborious
researches, and the most curious investigations. He has a
youthful fancy and a playful wit; with the mind, and
occasionally with the pen of a poet; and with an ease and
simplicity of style aiming only at perspicuity, and, as I
think, attaining it. He has lived to see his eightieth winter
(and May he yet long live!) with the esteem of the wise and
good; in honourable retirement from the cares of life; with a
gentleness of manners, and a readiness and willingness of
literary communication seldom found. He is admired and sought
after by the young who are entering on a course of study, and
revered, and often followed, by those who have completed it.
Nomen in exemplum sero servabirnus evo!" Mr. Bryant died in
1804, in his eighty-ninth year, in consequence Of a wound on
his Shin, occasioned by his foot slipping from a chair which he
had stepped on to reach a book in his library-E.
Letter 90 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.
Strawberry Hill, June 5, 1775. (page 134)
I am extremely concerned, dear Sir, to hear you have been so
long confined by the gout. The painting of your house may,
from the damp, have given you cold-I don't conceive that paint
can affect one otherwise, if it does not make one sick, as it
does me of all things. Dr. Heberden(209) (as every physician,
to make himself talked of, will Set up Some new hypothesis,)
pretends that a damp house, and even damp sheets, which have
ever been reckoned fatal, are wholesome: to prove his faith he
went into his own new house totally Unaired, and survived it.
At Malvern, they certainly put patients into sheets just dipped
in the spring-however, I am 'glad you have a better proof that
dampness is not mortal, and it is better to be too cautious
than too rash. I am perfectly well, and expect to be so for a
year and a half-I desire no more of the bootikins than to
curtail my fits.
Thank you for the note from North's Life, though, having
reprinted my Painters, I shall never have an opportunity of
using it. I am still more obliged to you for the offer of an
Index to my Catalogue but, as I myself know exactly where to
find every thing in it, and as I dare to say nobody else will
want it, I shall certainly not put YOU to that trouble.
Dr. Glynn will certainly be most welcome to see my house, and
shall, if I am not at home:-still I had rather know a few days
before, because else he may happen to come when I have company,
as I have often at this time of the year, and then it is
impossible to let it be seen, as I cannot ask my company, who
may have come to see it too, to go out, that somebody else may
see it, and I should be Very sorry to have the Doctor
disappointed. These difficulties, which have happened more
than once, have obliged me to give every ticket for a
particular day; therefore, if Dr. Glynn will be so good as to
advertise me of the day he intends to come here, with a
direction, I shall send him word what day he can see it.
I have just run through the two vast folios of Hutchins's
Dorsetshire.(210) He has taken infinite pains; indeed, all but
those that would make it entertaining.
Pray can you tell me any thing of some relations of my own, the
Burwells? My grandfather married Sir Jeffery Burwell's
daughter, of Rongham, in Suffolk. Sir Jeffery's mother, I
imagine, was daughter of a Jeffery Pitman, of Suffolk; at least
I know there was such a man in the latter, and that we quarter
the arms of Pitman. But I cannot find who Lady Burwell, Sir
Jeffery's wife, was. Edmondson has searched in vain in the
Heralds' office; and I have outlived all the ancient of my
family so long, that I know not of whom to Inquire, but you of
the neighbourhood. There is an old walk in the park at
Houghton, called "Sir Jeffery's Walk," where the old gentleman
used to teach my father (Sir Robert) his book. Those very old
trees encouraged my father to plant at Houghton. When people
used to try to persuade him nothing would grow there, he said,
why Will not other trees grow as well as those in Sir Jeffery's
Walk?--Other trees have grown to some purpose! Did I ever tell
you that ,my father was descended from Lord Burleigh? The
latter's granddaughter, by his son Exeter, married Sir Giles
Allington, whose daughter married Sir Robert Crane, father of
Sir Edward Walpole's .'Wife. I want but Lady Burwell's name to
Make my genealogic tree Shoot out stems every way. I have
recovered a barony in fee, which has no defect but in being
antecedent to any summons to Parliament, that of the Fitz
Osberts: and On MY Mother's side it has mounted the Lord knows
whither by the Philipps,s to Henry VIII. and has sucked in
Dryden for a great-uncle: and by Lady Philipps's mother, Darcy,
to Edward III. and there I stop for brevity's sake--especially
as Edward III. is a second Adam; who almost is not descended
from Edward 1 as posterity will be from Charles II. and all the
princes in Europe from James I. I am the first antiquary of my
race. People don't know how entertaining a study it is. Who
begot whom is a most amusing kind of hunting; one recovers a
grandfather instead of breaking one's own neck--and then one
grows so pious to the memory of a thousand persons one never
heard of before. One finds how Christian names came into a
family, with a world of other delectable erudition. You cannot
imagine how vexed I was that Bloomfield(211) died before he
arrived at Houghton--I had promised myself a whole crop of
notable ancestors-but I think I have pretty well unkennelled
them myself. Adieu! Yours ever.
P. S. I found a family of Whaplode in Lincolnshire who give our
arms, and have persuaded myself that Whaplode is a corruption
of Walpole, and came from a branch when we lived at Walpole in
Lincolnshire.
(209) Dr. William Heberden, the distinguished physician and
medical writer, who died on the 17th of March, 1801, at the
advanced age of ninety-one.-E.
(210) "The History and Antiquities of the County of Dorset."
London, 1774, in two volumes, folio. A second edition,
corrected, augmented, and improved, by Richard Gough and John
Bowyer Nichols, in four Volumes, folio, appeared in
1796-1815.-E.
(211) The Rev. Francis Blomefield, the author of an " Essay
towards a Topographical History of the County of Norfolk,"
which was left unfinished by him, and continued by the Rev.
Charles Parkin. It was first printed in five folio volumes:
1739-1773. A second edition, in eleven volumes, octavo,
appeared in 1805-1810.-E.
Letter 91 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Strawberry Hill, July 9, 1775. (page 136)
The whole business of this letter would lie in half a line.
Shall you have room for me on Tuesday the 18th? I am putting
myself into motion that I may go farther. I told Madame du
Deffand how you had scolded me on her account, and she has
charged me to thank you, and tell you how much she wishes to see
you, too. I would give any thing to go-But the going!--However,
I really think I shall, but I grow terribly affected with a
maladie de famille, that of taking root at home.
I did but put my head into London on Thursday, and more bad news
from America.(211) I wonder when it will be bad enough to make
folks think it so, without going on! The stocks, indeed, begin
to grow a little nervous, and they are apt to affect other
pulses. I heard this evening here that the Spanish fleet is
sailed, and that we are not in the secret whither-but I don't
answer for Twickenham gazettes, and I have no better. I have a
great mind to tell you a Twickenham story; and yet it will be
good for nothing, as I cannot send you the accent in a letter.
Here it is, and you must try to set it to the right emphasis.
One of our maccaronis is dead, a Captain Mawhood, the teaman's
son. He had quitted the army, because his comrades called him
Captain Hyson, and applied himself to learn the classics and
freethinking; and was always disputing with the parson of the
parish about Dido and his own soul. He married Miss Paulin's
warehouse, who had six hundred a-year; but, being very much out
of conceit with his own canister, could not reconcile himself to
her riding-hood--so they parted beds in three nights. Of late he
has taken to writing comedies, which every body was welcome to
hear him read, as he could get nobody to act them. Mrs. Mawhood
has a friend, one Mrs. V * * *, a mighty plausible good sort of
body, who feels for every body, and a good deal for herself, is
of a certain age, wears well, has some pretensions that she
thinks very reasonable still, and a gouty husband. Well! she was
talking to Mr. Rafter about Captain Mawhood a little before he
died. "Pray, Sir, does the Captain ever communicate his writings
to Mrs. Mawhood?" "Oh, dear no, Madam; he has a sovereign
contempt for her understanding." "Poor woman!" "And pray, Sir,-
- give me leave to ask you: I think I have heard they very seldom
sleep together!" "Oh, never, Madam! Don't you know all that?"
"Poor woman!" I don't know whether you will laugh; but Mr.
Raftor,(213) who tells a story better than any body, made me
laugh for two hours. Good night!
(212) Of the commencement of hostilities with the Americans at
Lexington on the 19th of April.-E.
(213) Mr. Raftor brother to Mrs. Clive.-E.
Letter 92 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.(214)
Strawberry Hill, August 9, 1775. (page 137)
Well, I am going tout de bon, and I heartily wish I was returned.
It is a horrid exchange, the cleanness and verdure and
tranquillity of 'Strawberry, for a beastly ship, worse inns, the
pav`e of the roads bordered with eternal rows of maimed trees,
and the racket of an h`otel garni! I never doat on the months of
August and September, enlivened by nothing but Lady Greenwich's
speaking-trumpet--but I do not want to be amused--at least never
at the expense of being put in motion. Madame du Deffand, I am
sure, may be satisfied with the sacrifice I make to her!(215)
You have heard, to be sure, of the war between your brother and
Foote; but probably do not know how far the latter has carried
his impudence. Being asked, why Lord Hertford had refused to
license his piece, he replied, "Why, he asked me to make his
youngest son a box-keeper, and because I would not, he stopped my
play."(216) The Duchess of Kingston offered to buy it off, but
Foote would not take her money, and swears he will act her in
Lady Brumpton; which to be sure is very applicable.
I am sorry to hear Lord Villiers is going to drag my lady through
all the vile inns in Germany. I think he might go alone.
George Onslow told me yesterday, that the American Congress had
sent terms of accommodation, and that your brother told him so;
but a strange fatality attends George's news, which is rarely
canonical; and I doubt this intelligence is far from being so..
I shall know more to-morrow, when I go to town to prepare for my
journey on Tuesday. Pray let me hear from you, enclosed to M.
Panchaud.
I accept with great joy Lady Ailesbury's offer Of coming hither
in October, which will increase my joy in being at home again. I
intend to set out on my return the 25th Of next month. Sir
Gregory Page has left Lord Howe eight thousand pounds at present,
and twelve more after his aunt Mrs. Page's death.
Thursday, 10th.
I cannot find any ground for believing that any proposals are
come from the Congress. On the contrary, every thing looks as
melancholy as possible. Adieu!
(214) Now first printed.
(215) In her letter of the 5th of August, Madame du Deffand, by
way of inducement to Walpole to take the journey, says--"Je vous
jure que je ne me soucierai de rien pour vous; c'est `a dire, de
vous faire faire une chose Plut`ot qu'une autre: vous serez
totalement libre de toutes vos pens`ees, paroles, et actions,
vous ne me verrez pas un souhait un d`esir qui Puisse contredire
vos pens`ees et Vos volont`es: je saurai que M. Walpole est `a
Paris, il saura que je demeure `a St. Joseph; il sera maitre d'y
arriver, d'y rester, de s'en aller, comme il lui plaira."-E.
(216) The piece was entitled "The Trip to Calais;" in which the
author having ridiculed, under the name of Kitty Crocodile, the
eccentric Duchess of Kingston she offered him a sum of money to
strike out the part. A correspondence took place between the
parties, which ended in the Duchess making an application to Lord
Hertford, at that time Lord Chamberlain, who interdicted the
performance. Foote, however, brought it out, with some
alterations, in the following year, under the title of "The
Capuchin."-E.
Letter 93 To The Countess Of Ailesbury.
>From t'other side of the water, August 17, 1775.(217) (page 138)
Interpreting your ladyship's orders in the most personal sense,
as respecting the dangers of the sea, I -write the instant I am
landed. I did not, in truth, set out till yesterday morning at
eight o'clock; but finding the roads, horses, postilions, tides,
winds, moons, and Captain Fectors in the pleasantest humour in
the world, I embarked almost as soon as I arrived at Dover, and
reached Calais before the sun was awake;-and here I am for the
sixth time in my life, with only the trifling distance of
seven-and-thirty years between my first voyage and the present.
Well! I can only say in excuse, that I am got into the land of
Struldburgs, where one is never too old to be young, and where la
b`equille du p`ere Barnabas blossoms like Aaron's rod, or the
Glastonbury thorn. Now, to be sure, I shall be a little
mortified, if your ladyship wanted a letter of news, and did not
at all trouble your head about my navigation. However, you will
not tell one so; and therefore I will persist in believing that
this good news will be received with transport at Park-place, and
that the bells of Henley will be set a ringing. The rest of my
adventures, must be deferred till they have happened, which is
not always the case of travels. I send you no Compliments from
Paris, because I have not got thither, nor delivered the bundle
which Mr. Conway sent me. I did, as Your ladyship commanded; buy
three pretty little medallions in frames of filigraine, for our
dear old friend. They will not ruin you, having cost not a
guinea and a half; but it was all I could find that was genteel
and portable; and as she does not measure by guineas, but
attentions, she will be as much pleased as if you had sent her a
dozen acres of Park-place. As they are in bas-relief, too, they
are feelable, and that is a material circumstance to her. I wish
the Diomede had even so much as a pair of Nankin!
Adieu, toute la ch`ere famille! I think of October with much
satisfaction; it will double the pleasure of my return.
(217) Mr. Walpole reached Paris on the 19th of August and left it
on the 19th of October.-E.
Letter 94 To The Countess Of Ailesbury.
Paris, August 20, 1775. (page 139)
I have been sea-sick to death: I have been poisoned by dirt and
vermin; I have been stifled by beat, choked by dust, and starved
for want of any thing I could touch: and yet, Madam, here, I am
perfectly well, not in the least fatigued; and, thanks to the
rivelled parchments, formerly faces, which I have seen by
hundreds, I find myself almost as young as When I came hither
first in the last century. In spite of my whims, and delicacy,
and laziness, none of my grievances have been mortal: I have
borne them as well as if I had set up for a philosopher, like the
sages of this town. Indeed, I have found my dear old woman So
well, and looking so much better than she did four years ago,
that I am transported with pleasure, and thank your ladyship and
Mr. Conway for driving me hither. Madame du Deffand came to me
the instant I arrived, and sat by me whilst I stripped and
dressed myself; for, as she said, since she cannot see there was
no harm in my being stark.(218) She was charmed with your
present; but was so Kind as to be so much more charmed with my
arrival, that she did not think of it a moment. I sat with her
till half an hour after two in the morning, and had a letter from
her before MY eyes were open again. In short, her soul is
immortal, and forces her body to bear it company.
This is the very eve of Madame Clotilde's(219) Wedding - but
Monsieur Turgot, to the great grief of Lady Mary Coke, will
suffer no cost, but one banquet, one ball, and a play at
Versailles. Count Viry gives a banquet, a bal masqu`e, and a
firework. I think I shall see little but the last, from which I
will send your ladyship a rocket in my next letter. Lady Mary, I
believe, has had a private audience of the ambassador's leg,(220)
but en tout bien, et honneur, and only to satisfy her ceremonious
curiosity about any part of royal nudity. I am just going to
her, as she is to Versailles; and I have not time to add a word
more to the vows of your ladyship's most faithful.
(218) Madame du Deffand had just completed her seventy-eighth
year.-E.
(219) Madame Clotilde, sister of Louis XV1. Turgot was the new
minister of finance, who, With his colleagues were endeavouring,
by every practicable means, to reduce the enormous expenditure of
the country.-E.
(220) Mr. Walpole alludes to the ceremony of the marriages of
princesses by proxy.-E.
Letter 95 To Mrs. Abington(221)
Paris, September [1775.] (page 140)
If I had known, Madam, of your being at Paris, before I heard it
from Colonel Blaquiere, I should certainly have prevented your
flattering invitation, and have offered you any services that
could depend on my acquaintance here. It is plain I am old, and
live with very old folks, when I did not hear of your arrival.
However, Madam, I have not that fault at least of a veteran, the
thinking nothing equal to what they admired in their youth. I do
impartial justice to your merit, and fairly allow it not only
equal to that of any actress I have seen, but believe the present
age will not be in the wrong, if they hereafter prefer it to
those they may live to see. Your allowing me to wait on you in
London, Madam, will make me some amends for the loss I have had
here; and I shall take an early opportunity of assuring you how
much I am, Madam, your most obliged humble servant.
(221) Now first printed. This elegant and fashionable actress
was born in 1735, quitted the stage in 1799, and died in 1815.-E.
Letter 96 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Paris, Sept 8, 1775. (page 140)
The delays of the post, and its departure before its arrival,
saved me some days of anxiety for Lady Ailesbury, and prevented
my telling you how concerned I am for her accident; though I
trust, by this time, she has not even pain left. I feel the
horror you must have felt during her suffering in the dark, and
on the sight of her arm;(222) and though nobody admires her
needlework more than I, still I am rejoiced that it will be the
greatest sufferer. However, I am very impatient for a farther
account. Madame du Deffand, who, you know, never loves her
friends by halves, and whose impatience never allows itself time
to inform itself, was out of her wits, because I could not
explain exactly how the accident happened, and where. She wanted
to write directly, though the post was just gone; and, as soon as
I could make her easy about the accident, she fell into a new
distress about her fans for Madame de Marchais, and concludes
they have been overturned, and broken too. In short, I never saw
any thing like her. She has made engagements for me till Monday
se'nnight; in which are included I don't know how many journeys
into the country; and as nobody ever leaves her without her
engaging them for another time, all these parties will be so many
polypuses, that will shoot out into new ones every way. Madame
de Jonsac,(223) a great friend of mine, arrived the day before
yesterday, and Madame du Deffand has pinned her down to meeting
me at her house four times before next Tuesday, all parentheses,
that are not to interfere with our other suppers; and from those
suppers I never get to bed before two or three o'clock. In
short, I need have the activity of a squirrel, and the strength
of a Hercules, to go through my labours--not to count how many
d`em`el`es I have had to raccommode, and how many m`emoires to
present against Tonton,(224) who grows the greater favourite the
more people he devours. As I am the only person who dare correct
him, I have already insisted on his being confined in the Bastile
every day to after five o'clock. T'other night he flew at Lady
Barrymore's face, and I thought would have torn her eye out; but
it ended in biting her finger. She was terrified: she fell into
tears. Madame du Deffand, who has too much parts not to see
every thing in its true light, perceiving that she had not beaten
Tonton half enough, immediately told us a story of a lady, whose
dog, having bitten a piece out of a gentleman's leg, the tender
dame in a great fright, cried out, "Won't it make my dog sick?"
Lady Barrymore(225) has taken a house. She will be glutted with
conquests: I never saw any body so much admired. I doubt her
poor little head will be quite overset.
Madame de Marchais(226) is charming: eloquence and attention
itself I cannot stir for peaches, nectarines, grapes, and bury
pears. You would think Pomona was in love with me. I am not so
transported with N * * * * cock and hen. They are a tabor and
pipe that I do not understand. He mouths and she squeaks and
neither articulates. M. d'Entragues I have not seen. Upon the
whole, I am much more pleased with Paris than ever I was; and,
perhaps, shall stay a little longer than I intended. The Harry
Grenville's(227) are arrived. I dined with them at Madame de
Viry's,(228) who has completed the conquest of France by her
behaviour on Madame Clotilde's wedding, and by the f`etes she
gave. Of other English I wot not, but grieve the Richmonds do
not come. I am charmed with Dr. Bally; nay, and with the King of
Prussia--as much as I can be with a northern monarch. For your
Kragen, I think we ought to procure a female one, and marry it to
Ireland, that we may breed some new islands against we have lost
America. I know nothing of said America. There is not a
Frenchman that does not think us distracted.
I used to scold you about your bad writing, and perceive I have
written in such a hurry, and blotted my letter so much, that you
will not be able to read it: but consider how few moments I have
to myself. I am forced to stuff my ears with cotton to get any
sleep. However, my journey has done me good. I have thrown off
at least fifteen years. Here is a letter for my dear Mrs. Damer
from Madame de Cambis, who thinks she doats on you all. Adieu!
P. S. I shall bring you two `eloges of Marshal Catinat; not
because I admire them, but because I admire him, because I think
him very like you.
(222) Lady Ailesbury had been overturned in her carriage at
Park-place, and dislocated her wrist.