Strawberry Hill, June 1, 1776. (page 154)

Mr. Granger's papers have been purchased by Lord Mount

Stewart,(252) who has the frenzy of portraits as well as I; and,

though I am at the head of the sect, I have no longer the rage of

propagating it, nor would I on any account take the trouble of

revising and publishing the manuscripts. Mr. Granger had drowned

his taste for portraits in the ocean of biography; and, though he

began with elucidating prints, he at last only sought prints that

he might write the lives of those they represented. His work was

grown and growing so voluminous, that an abridgment only could

have made it useful to collectors. I am not surprised that you

wilt not assist Kippis;(253) Bishop Laud and William Prynne could

never agree. You are very justly more averse to Mr. Masters who

is a pragmatic fellow, and at best troublesome.

If the agate knives you are so good as to recommend to me can be

tolerably authenticated, have any royal marks, or, at least, old

setting of the time, and will be sold for two guineas, I should

not dislike having them - though I have scarce room to stick a

knife and fork. But if I trouble you to pay for them, you must

let me know all I owe you already, for I know I am in your debt

for prints and pamphlets, and this new debt will make the whole

considerable enough to be remitted. I have lately purchased

three apostle-spoons to add to the one you was so kind as to give

me. What is become of Mr. Essex? does he never visit London? I

wish I could tempt him thither or hither. I am not only thinking

of building my offices in a collegiate style, for which I have a

good design and wish to consult him, but am actually wanting

assistance at this very moment, about a smaller gallery that I

wish to add' this summer; and which, if Mr. Essex was here, he

should build directly.

It is scarce worth asking him to take the journey on purpose,

though I would pay for his journey hither and back, and would

lodge him here for the necessary time. I can only beg you to

mention it to him as an idle jaunt, the object is so trifling. I

wish more that YOU Could come with him: do you leave your poor

parishioners and their souls to themselves? if you do, I hope

Dr. Kippis will seduce them. Yours ever.

(252) John Lord Mountstuart; in March 1796, created Marquis of

Bute. He died in Geneva in November 1814, when the marquisate

descended to his grandson.-E.

(253) Dr. Andrew Kippis, well-known for the active part he took

in producing the second edition of the" Biographia Britannnica,

of which he was the editor, and in a great measure the writer.

He had applied to 'Mr. Cole for assistance; and Walpole's

satisfaction at Cole's refusal is to be accounted for by the fact

of Kippis having threatened to expose Sir Robert Walpole in the

course of that work. Walpole had called the " Biographia

Britannica" an apology for every body. This Kippis happened to

hear of; upon which he is said to have retorted, "that the Life

of Sir Robert Walpole should prove that the Biographia was not an

apology for every body.'-E.

Letter 109 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Strawberry Hill, June 11, 1776. (page 155)

I am grieved, and feel for your gout; I know the vexations and

disappointments it occasions, and how often it will return when

one thinks it going or gone: it represents life and its

vicissitudes. At last I know it makes me content when one does

not feel actual pain,--and what contents may be called a

blessing; but it is a sort of blessing that extinguishes hopes

and views, and is not so luxurious but one can bear to relinquish

it. I seek amusements now to amuse me; I used to rush into them,

because I had an impulse and wished for what I sought. My want

of Mr. Essex has a little of both kinds, as it is for an addition

to this place, for which my fondness is not worn out. I shall be

very glad to see him here either on the 20th or 21st of this

month, and shall have no engagement till the 23d, and will gladly

pay his journey. I am sorry I must not hope that you will

accompany him.

Letter 110 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.

Strawberry Hill, June 30, 1776. (page 156)

I was very glad to receive your letter, not only because always

most glad to hear of you, but because I wished to write to you,

and had absolutely nothing to say till I had something to answer.

I have lain but two nights in town since I saw you; have been,

else, Constantly here, very much employed, though doing, hearing.

knowing exactly nothing. I have had a Gothic architect from

Cambridge to design me a gallery, Which will end in a mouse, that

is, in an hexagon closet, of seven feet diameter. I have been

making a beauty-room, which was effected by buying two dozen of

small copies of Sir Peter Lely, and hanging them up; and I have

been making hay, which is not made, because I put it off for

three days, as I chose it should adorn the landscape when I was

to have company; and so the rain is come, and has drowned it.

However, as I can even turn calculator when it is to comfort me

for not minding my interest, I have discovered that it is five to

one better for me that my hay should be spoiled than not-, for,

as the cows will eat it if it is damaged, which horses will not,

and as I have five cows and but one horse, is not it plain that

the worse my hay is the better? Do not you with your refining

head go, and, out of excessive friendship, find out something to

destroy my system. I had rather be a philosopher than a rich

man; and yet have so little philosophy, that I had much rather be

content than be in the right.

Mr. Beauclerk and Lady Di.(254) have been here four or five days

-so I had both content and exercise for my philosophy. I wish

Lady Ailesbury was as fortunate! The Pembrokes, Churchills, Le

Texier, as you will have heard, and the Garricks have been with

us. Perhaps, if alone, I might have come to you--but you are all

too healthy and harmonious. I can neither walk nor sing -nor,

indeed, am fit for any thing but to amuse myself in a sedentary

trifling way. What I have most certainly not been doing, is

writing any thing: a truth I say to you, but do not desire you to

repeat. I deign to satisfy scarce any body else. Whoever

reported that I was writing any thing, must have been so totally

unfounded, that they either blundered by guessing without reason,

or knew they lied-and that could not be with any kind intention;

though saying I am going to do what I am not going to do, is

wretched enough. Whatever is said of me without truth, any body

is welcome to believe that pleases. In fact, though I have

scarce a settled purpose about any thing, I think I shall never

write any more. I have written a great deal too much, unless I

had written better, and I know I should now only write still

worse. One's talent, whatever it is, does not improve at

sixty-yet, if I liked it, I dare say a good reason would not stop

my inclination;--but I am grown most indolent in that respect,

and most absolutely indifferent to every purpose of vanity. Yet

without vanity I am become still prouder and more contemptuous.

I have a contempt for my countrymen that makes me despise their

approbation. The applause of slaves and of the foolish mad is

below ambition. Mine is the haughtiness of an ancient Briton,

that cannot write what would please this age, and would not, if

he could. Whatever happens in America this country is undone. I

desire to be reckoned of the last age, and to be thought to have

lived to be superannuated, preserving my senses only for myself

and for the few I value. I cannot aspire to be traduced like

Algernon Sydney, and content myself with sacrificing to him

amongst my lares. Unalterable in my principles, careless about

most things below essentials, indulging myself in trifles by

system, annihilating myself by choice, but dreading folly at an

unseemly age, I contrive to pass my time agreeably enough, yet

see its termination approach without anxiety. This is a true

picture of my mind; and it must be true, because drawn for you,

whom I would not deceive, and could not, if I would. Your

question on my being writing drew it forth, though with more

seriousness than the report deserved--yet talking to one's

dearest friend is neither wrong nor out of season. Nay, you are

my best apology. I have always contented myself with your being

perfect, or, if your modesty demands a mitigated term, I will

say, unexceptionable. It is comical, to be sure, to have always

been more solicitous about the virtue of one's friend than about

one's own-yet, I repeat it, you are my apology -though I never

was so unreasonable as to make you answerable for my faults in

return; I take them wholly to myself. But enough of this. When

I know my own mind, for hitherto I have settled no plan ,for my

summer, I will come to you. Adieu!

(254) Lady Diana Spencer, daughter of Charles, Duke of

Marlborough; born in 1734; married, in 1757, to Viscount

Bolingbroke; from whom she was divorced in 1768, and married

immediately after to Mr. Topham Beauclerk.-E.

Letter 111 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

July 23, 1776. (page 157)

You are so good to me, my dear Sir, that I am quite ashamed. I

must not send back your charming present, but wish you would give

me leave to pay for it, and I shall have the same obligation to

you, and still more. It is beautiful in form and colours, and

pleases me excessively. In the mean time, I have in a great

hurry (for I came home but at noon to meet Mr. Essex) chosen out

a few prints for you, Such as I think you will like, and beg you

to accept them: they enter Into no one of my sets. I am heartily

grieved at your account of yourself, and know no comfort but

submission. I was absent to 'General Conway, who is far from

well. We must take our lot as it falls! joy and 'sorrow is mixed

till the scene closes. I am out of spirits, and shall not mend

yours. Mr. Essex is just setting out, and I write in great

haste, but am, as I have so long been, most truly yours.

Letter 112To The Rev. Mr. Cole

Strawberry Hill, July 24, 1776. (page 158)

I wrote to you yesterday, dear Sir, not only in great haste, but

in great confusion, and did not say half I ought to have done for

the pretty vase you sent me, and for your constant obliging

attention to me. All I can say is, that gratitude attempted even

in my haste and concern to put in its word: and I did not mean to

pay you, (which I hope you will really allow me to do) but to

express my sensibility of your kindness. The fact was, that to

avoid disappointing Mr. Essex, when I had dragged him hither from

Cambridge, I had returned hither precipitately, and yet late,

from Park-place whither I went the day before to see General

Conway, who has had a little attack of the paralytic kind. You,

who can remember how very long and dearly I have loved so near a

relation and particular friend, and who are full of nothing but

friendly sensations, can judge how shocked I was to find him more

changed than I expected. I suffered so much in constraining and

commanding myself, that I was not sorry, as the house was full of

relations, to have the plea of Mr. Essex, to get away, and came

to sigh here by myself. It is, perhaps, to prevent my concern

that I write now. Mr. Conway is in no manner of danger, is

better, his head nor speech are affected, and the physicians, who

barely allow the attack to be of the paralytic nature, are clear

it is local, in the muscles of the face. Still has it operated

such a revolution in my mind, as no time, at my age, can efface.

It has at once damped every pursuit which my spirits had even now

prevented me from being weaned from, I mean a Virt`u. It is like

a mortal distemper in myself; for can amusements amuse, if there

is but a glimpse, a vision, of outliving one's friends? I have

had dreams in which I thought I wished for fame--it was not

certainly posthumous fame at any distance: I feel, I feel, it was

confined to the memory of those I love. It seems to me

impossible for a man who has no friends to do any Thing for

fame--and to me the first position in friendship is, to intend

one's friends should survive one-but it is not reasonable to

oppress you, who are suffering gout, with my melancholy ideas.

Let me know as you mend. What I have said, will tell you, what I

hope so many years have told you, that I am very constant and

sincere to friends of above forty years. I doubt Mr. Essex

perceived that my mind was greatly bewildered- He gave me a

direction to Mr. Penticross, who I recollect, Mr. Gray, not you,

told me was turned a Methodist teacher. He was a blue-coat boy,

and came hither then to some of my servants, having at that age a

poetic turn. As he has reverted to it, I hope the enthusiasm

will take a more agreeable plea. I have not heard of him for

many Years, and thought he was settled somewhere near Cambridge:

I find it is at Wallingford. I wonder those madmen and knaves do

not begin to wear out, as their folly is no longer new, and as

knavery can turn its hand to any trade according to the humour of

the age, which in countries like this is seldom constant. Yours

most faithfully.

Letter 113 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Strawberry Hill, August 19, 1776. (page 159)

I have time but to write you a line, and it is as usual to beg

your help in a sort of literary difficulty. I have received a

letter dated , "Catherine Hall" from "Ken. Prescot," whom I doubt

I have forgotten; for he begins "Dear Sir," and I protest I

cannot recollect him, though I ought. He says he wants to send

me a few classical discourses, and e speaks with respect of my

father, and, by his trembling hand, seems an old man. All these

are reasons for my treating him with great regard; and, being

afraid of hurting him, I have written a short and very civil

answer, directed to the "Rev. Dr. Prescot." God knows whether he

is a clergyman or a doctor, and perhaps I may have betrayed my

forgetfulness; but I -thought it was best to err on the over

civil side. Tell me something about him; I dread his Discourses.

Is he the strange man that a few years ago sent me a volume of an

uncommon form, and of more uncommon matter? I suspect so.(255)

You shall certainly have two or three of my prints by Mr. Essex

when he returns hither and hence, and any thing else you will

command. I am just now in great concern for the terrible death

of General Conway's son-in-law, Mr. Damer,(256) of which,

perhaps, you in your solitude have not heard.-You are happy who

take no part but in the past world, for the mortui non mordent,

nor do any of the extravagant and distressing things that perhaps

they did in their lives. I hope the gout, that persecutes even

in a hermitage, has left you. Yours most sincerely.

(255) Dr. Kenrick Prescot, master of Catherine Hall, and author

of a quarto volume, published at Cambridge in 1773, entitled,

"Letters concerning Homer the Sleeper, in Horace; with additional

classic Amusements."-E.

(256) John, eldest son of Joseph Damer, Esq, Lord Milton;

afterwards Earl of Dorchester.-E.

Letter 114 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Strawberry Hill, Sept. 9, 1776. (page 160)

May I trouble you, dear Sir, when you see our friend Mr. Essex,

to tell him that the tower is covered in, and that whenever he

has nothing to do, after this week, I shall be very glad to see

him here, if he will only send me a line two or three days

beforehand. I have carried this little tower higher than the

round one, and it has an exceedingly pretty effect, breaking the

long line of the house picturesquely, and looking very ancient.

I must correct a little error in the spelling of a name in the

pedigree you was so kind as to make out for me last year. The

Derehaughs were not of Colton, but of Coulston-hall. This I

discovered only this morning. On opening a patch-box that

belonged to my mother, and which I have not opened for many

years, I found an extremely small silver collaring, about this

size--O--but broad and flat. I remember it was in an old satin

bag of coins that my mother found in old Houghton when she first

married. I call it a collar from the breadth; for it would not

be large enough for a fairy's lap-dog. It was probably made for

an infant's little finger, and must have been for a ring, not a

collar; for I believe, though she was an heiress, young ladies

did not elope so very early in those days. I never knew how it

came into the family, but now it is plain, for the inscription on

the outside is, "of Coulstonhall, Suff." and it is a confirmation

of your pedigree. I have tied it to a piece of paper, with a

long inscription, and it is so small, it will not be melted down

for the weight; and if not lost from its diminutive person, may

remain in the family a long while, and be preserved when some

gamester may Spend every other bit of silver he has in the world;

at least, if one would make heir-looms now, one must take care

that they have no value in them.

P. S. I was turning over Edmonson this evening, and observed an

odd occurrence of circumstances in the present Lord

Carmarthen.(257) By his mother he is the representative of the

great Duke of Marlborough, and of old Treasurer Godolphin;(258)

by his father, of the Lord treasurer Duke of Leeds;(259) and by

his grandmother, is descended from the Lord-treasurer

Oxford.(260) Few men are so well ancestored in so short a

compass of time.

(257) Francis Godolphin, Marquis of Carmarthen, only surviving

son of Thomas Duke of Leeds; and who, upon the death of his

father, in 17 9 succeeded to the dukedom.-E

(258) Mary Duchess of Leeds, wife of Thomas, fourth duke, was

second daughter, and eventually sole heiress, of Francis Earl Of

Godolphin, by Henrietta Duchess of Marlborough, eldest daughter

and coheir of the great Duke of Marlborough.-E.

(259) Sir Thomas Osborne, lord high treasurer of England, the

first Duke of Leeds; who, having been successively honoured with

the Barony of Osborne, the Viscounty of Latimer, the Earldom of

Danby, and the Marquisate Of Carmarthen, was, on the 4th of May

1694, created Duke of Leeds.-E.

(260) Elizabeth, the first wife of Peregrine Hyde, third Duke of

Leeds, was the youngest daughter of Robert Harley, the great Earl

of Oxford.-E.

Letter 115 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.

Strawberry Hill, Thursday, Oct. 31, 1776. (page 161)

Thank you for your letter. I send this by the coach. You will

have found a new scene,(261) not an unexpected one by you and me,

though I do not pretend I thought it so near. I rather imagined

France would have instigated or winked at Spain's beginning with

us. Here is a solution of the Americans declaring themselves

independent. Oh! the folly, the madness, the guilt of having

plunged us into this abyss! Were we and a few more endued with

any uncommon penetration? No: they who did not see as far, would

not. I am impatient to hear the complexion of to-day. I suppose

it will, on the part of administration, have been a wretched

farce of fear, daubed over with airs of bullying. You, I do not

doubt, have acted like yourself, feeling for our situation, above

insulting, and unprovoked but at the criminality that has brought

us to this pass. Pursue your own path, nor lean to the court

that may be paid to you on either side, as I am sure you will not

regard their being displeased that you do not go as far as their

interested views may wish. If the court should receive any more

of what they call good news, I think the war with France will be

unavoidable. It was the victory at Long Island(262) and the

frantic presumption it occasioned, that has ripened France's

measures--And now we are to awe them by pressing--an act that

speaks our impotence!--which France did not want to learn!

I would have come to town, but I had declared so much I would

not, that I thought it would look as if I came to enjoy the

distress of the ministers-but I do not enjoy the distress of my

country. I think we are undone; I have always thought so--

whether we enslaved America, or lost it totally--so we that were

against the war could expect no good issue. If you do return to

Park-place to-morrow, you will oblige me much by breakfasting

here - you know it wastes you very little time.

'I am glad I did not know of Mrs. Damer's sore throat till it is

almost well. Pray take care and do not catch it.

Thank you for your care of me: I will not stay a great deal here,

but at present I never was better in my life-and here I have no

vexatious moments. I hate to dispute; I scorn to triumph myself,

and it is very difficult to keep my temper when others do. I own

I have another reason for my retirement, which is prudence. I

have thought of it late, but, at least, I will not run into any

new expense. it would cost me more than I care to afford to buy

a house in town, Unless I do it to take some of my money out of

the stocks, for which I tremble a little. My brother is seventy;

and if I live myself, I Must not build too much on his life; and

you know, if he fails, I lose the most secure part of my income.

I refused from Holland, and last year from Lord North, to accept

the place for my own life; and having never done a dirty thing, I

will not disgrace myself at fifty-nine. I should like to live as

well as I have done; but what I wish more, is to secure what I

have already saved for those I would take care of after me.

These are the true reasons of my dropping all thought of a better

house in town, and of living so privately here. I -will not

sacrifice my health to my prudence; but my temper is so violent,

that I know the tranquillity I enjoy here in solitude is of much

more benefit to my health, than the air of the country is

detrimental to it. You see I can be reasonable when I have time

to reflect; but philosophy has a poor chance with me when my

warmth is stirred--and yet I know, that an angry old man out of

parliament, and that can do nothing but be angry, is a ridiculous

animal.

(261) On the opening of the session.

(262) On the 17th of August 1776, when the English army, under

the command of General Howe, defeated the Americans at Flat Bush,

in Long Island.-E.

Letter 116 To The Earl Of Strafford.

Strawberry Hill, Nov. 2, 1776. (page 162)

Though inclination, and consciousness that a man of my age, who

is neither in parliament nor in business, has little to do in the

world, keep me a good deal out of it, yet I will not, my dear

lord, encourage you in retirement; to which, for the interest of

your friends, you have but too much propensity. The manners of

the age cannot be agreeable to those who have lived in something

soberer times; nor do I think, except in France, where old people

are never out of fashion, that it is reasonable to tire those

whose youth and spirits may excuse some dissipation. Above all

things, it is my resolution never to profess retirement, lest,

when I have lost all my real teeth, the imaginary one, called a

colt's, should hurry me back and make me ridiculous. But one

never outlives all one's contemporaries; one may assort with

them. Few Englishmen, too, I have observed, can bear solitude

without being hurt by it. Our climate makes us capricious, and

we must rub off our roughness and humours against one another.

We have, too, an always increasing resource, which is, that

though we go not to the young, they must come to us: younger

usurpers tread on their heels, as they did on ours, and revenge

us that have been deposed. They may retain their titles, like

Queen Christina, Sir M * * * N * * *, and Lord Rivers; but they

find they have no subjects. If we could but live long enough, we

should hear Lord Carlisle, Mr. Storer, etc. complain of the airs

and abominable hours of the youth of the age. YOU see, my dear

lord, my easy philosophy can divert itself with any thing, even

with visions; which perhaps is the best way of treating the great

vision itself, life. For half one's time one should laugh with

the world, the other half at it--and then it is hard if we want

amusement.

I am heartily glad, for your lordship's and Lady Anne Conolly's

sakes, that General Howe(263) is safe. I sincerely interest

myself for every body you are concerned for. I will say no more

on a subject on which I fear I am so unlucky as to differ very

much with your lordship, having always fundamentally disapproved

our conduct with America. indeed, the present prospect of war

with France, when we have so much disabled ourselves, and are

exposed in so many quarters, is a topic for general lamentation,

rather than for canvassing Of Opinions, which every man must form

for himself: and I doubt the moment is advancing when we shall be

forced to think alike, at least on the present.

I have not yet above a night at a time in town--but shall be glad

to give your lordship and Lady Strafford a meeting there whenever

you please. Your faithful humble servant.

(263) General Sir William Howe, brother of the Admiral, was then

commander-in-chief of the British forces in America. He was

married to a daughter of Lady Anne Conolly, and consequently to a

niece of Lord Strafford.-E.

Letter 117 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Strawberry Hill, Dec. 9, 1776. (page 163)

I know you love an episcopal print, and, therefore, I send you

one of two, that have just been given to me. As you have time

and patience, too, I recommend you to peruse Sir John Hawkins's

History Of Music.(264) It is true, there are five huge volumes

in quarto, and perhaps you may not care for the expense; but

surely you can borrow them in the University, and, though you may

no more than I, delight in the scientific, there is so much about

cathedral service, and choirs, and other old matters, that I am

sure you will be amused with a great deal, particularly the two

last volumes, and the facsimiles of old music in the first. I

doubt it is a work that will not sell rapidly, but it must have a

place in all great libraries.

(264) A work full of amusement, and deserving of Walpole's good

word, notwithstanding the witty criticism which Dr. Calcott

passed upon it in his well known catch, "Have You Sir John

Hawkins's History?" in which he makes the name of the rival work,

"Burney's (Burn-HIS) History," express the fate which Hawkins's

volumes deserved.-E.

Letter 118 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Arlington Street, Feb. 20, 1777. (page 163)

Dear Sir,

You are always my oracle in any antique difficulties. I have

bought at Mr. Ives's(265) sale (immensely dear) the shutters of

the altar at Edmondsbury: Mr. Ives had them from Tom Martin,(266)

who married Peter Leneve's widow; so you see no shutters can be

better descended on the mother's side. Next to high birth,

personal merit is something: in that respect, my shutters are far

from defective: on the contrary, the figures in the inside are so

very good, as to amaze me who could paint them here in the reign

of Henry VI.; they are worthy of the Bolognese school--but they

have suffered in several places, though not considerably. Bowes

is to repair them, under oath of only filling up the cracks, and

restoring the peelings off, but without repainting or varnishing.

The possession of these boards, invaluable to me, was essential.

They authenticate the sagacity of my guesses, a talent in an

antiquary coequal with prophecy in a saint. On the outside is an

archbishop, unchristened by the late possessors, but evidently

Archbishop Kempe, or the same person with the prelate in my

Marriage of Henry VI.,_ and you will allow from the collateral

evidence that it must be Kempe, as I have so certainly discovered

another person in my picture. The other outside is a cardinal,

called by Mr. Ives, Babington; but I believe Cardinal Beaufort,

for the lion of England stands by him, which a bastardly prince

of the blood was more likely to assume than a true one. His face

is not very like, nor very unlike, the face in my picture; but

this is -shaven.-But now comes the great point. On the inside is

Humphrey Duke of Gloucester kneeling--not only exactly resembling

mine as possible, but with the same almost bald head, and the

precisely same furred robe. An apostle-like personage stands

behind him, holding a golden chalice, as his royal highness's

offering, and, which is remarkable, the duke's velvet cap of

state, with his coronet of strawberry-leaves.

I used to say, to corroborate my hypothesis, that the skull of

Duke Humphrey at St. Alban's was very like the form of head in my

picture, which argument diverted the late Lord Holland

extremely--but I trust now that nobody will dispute any longer my

perfect acquaintance with all Dukes of Gloucester.--By the way,

did I ever tell You that when I published my Historic Doubts on

Richard III., my niece's marriage not being then acknowledged,

George Selwyn said, he did not think I should have doubted about

the Duke of Gloucester? On the inside of another shutter is a

man unknown: he is in a stable, as Joseph might be, but over him

hangs a shield of arms, that are neither Joseph's nor Mary's.

The colours are either black and white, or so changed as not to

be distinguishable. * * " * I conclude the person who is in red

and white was the donor of the altar-piece, or benefactor; and

what I want of you is to discover him and his arms; and to tell

me whether Duke Humphrey, Beaufort, Kempe, and Babington were

connected with St. Edmondsbury, or whether this unknown person

was not a retainer of Duke Humphrey, at least of the royal

family.

At the same sale I bought a curious pair, that I conclude came

from Blickling, with Hobart impaling Boleyn from which latter

family the former enjoyed that seat. How does this third winter

of the season agree with you? The wind to-day is sharper than a

razor, and blows icicles into one's eyes. I was confined for

seven weeks with the gout " yet am so well recovered as to have

been abroad to-day, though it is as mild under the pole.

Pray can you tell me the title of the book that Mr. Ives

dedicated to me? I never saw it, for he was so odd (I cannot call

it modest, lest I should seem not so myself) as never to send it

me, and I never could get it. Yours truly.

(265) John Ives the antiquary, author of "Remarks upon the

Garianonum of the Romans the Site and Remains fixed and

described."-E.

(266) Tom Martin of Palgrave, the well known antiquary, whose

"History of Thetford"was published in 1779, by Gough, who has

prefixed to it a Biographical Sketch of the Author.-E.

Letter 119 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

February 27, 1777. (page 165)

You see, dear Sir, that we thought on each other just at the same

moment; but, as usual, you was thinking of obliging me, and I, of

giving YOU trouble. You have fully satisfied me of the Connexion

between the Lancastrian Princes and St. Edmondsbury. Edmondson,

I conclude, will be able to find out the proprietor of the arms,

impaling Walrond.

I am well acquainted with Sir A. Weldon(267) and the Aulicus

Coquinanae,(268) and will return them with Mr. Ives's tracts,

which I intend to buy at the sale of his books. Tell me how I

may convey them to you most safely. You say, "Till I show an

inclination to borrow more of your MSS." I hope you do not think

my appetite for that loan is in the least diminished. I should

at all minutes, and ever, be glad to peruse them all--but I was

not sure you wished to send them to me, though you deny me

nothing--and my own fear of their coming to any mischance made me

very modest about asking for them--but now, whenever you can send

me any of them with perfect security, I eagerly and impudently

ask to see them: you cannot oblige me more, I assure you.

I am sorry Dr. E * * n is got into such a dirty scrape. There is

scarce any decent medium observed at present between wasting

fortunes and fabricating them--and both by any disreputable

manner; for, as to saving money by prudent economy, the method is

too slow in proportion to consumptions: even forgery, alas!(269

seems to be the counterpart or restorative of the ruin by gaming.

I hope at least that robbery on the highway will go out of

fashion as too piddling a profession for gentlemen.

I enclose a card for your friends, but must advertise them that

March is in every respect a wrong month for seeing Strawberry.

It not only wants its leaves and beauty then, but most of the

small pictures and curiosities, which are taken down and packed

up in winter, are not restored to their places till the weather

is fine and I am more there. Unless they are confined in time,

your friends had much better wait till May-but, however, they

will be very welcome to go when they please. I am more

personally interested in hoping to See you there this summer--you

must visit my new tower. Diminutive as it is, it adds much to

the antique air of the whole in both fronts. You know I shall

sympathize with your gout, and you are always master of your own

hours.

(267) Sir Anthony Weldon was the author of "The Court and

Character of King James; written and taken by Sir A. W., being an

eye and ear witness." London, 1650. A work which has been

pronounced, by competent authority, " a despicable tissue of

filth and obscenity, of falsehood and malignity."-E.

(268) "Aulicus Coquinanae; or, an Answer to the Court and

Character of King James." London, 1650. This work has been

ascribed to William Sanderson, and to Dr. Heylin; and is, as well

as Weldon's, reprinted in the "Secret History of the Court of

King James." Edinburgh, 1811-E.

(269) Alluding to Dr. Dodd; whose trial for forgery had taken

place on the 22d, at the Old Bailey.-E.

Letter 120 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Arlington Street, May 22, 1777. (page 166)

It is not Owing to forgetfulness, negligence, or idleness--to

none of which I am subject, that you have not heard from me since

I saw you, dear Sir, but to my miserable occupation with my poor

nephew, who engrosses my whole attention, and will, I doubt,

destroy my health, if he does not recover his. I have got him

within fourteen miles of town with difficulty. He is rather

worse than better, may recover in an instant, as he did last

time, or remain in his present sullenness. I am far from

expecting he should ever be perfectly in his senses; which, in my

opinion, he scarce ever was. His intervals expose him to the

worst people ; his relapses overwhelm me.

I have-put together some trifles I promised you, and will beg Mr.

Lort to be the bearer when he goes to Cambridge, if I know of it.

At present I have time for nothing I like. My age and

inclination call for retirement: I envied your happy hermitage,

and leisure to follow your inclination. I have always lived

post, and shall not die before I can bait-yet it is not my wish

to be unemployed, could I but choose my occupations. I wish I

could think of the pictures you mention, or had time to see Dr.

Glynn and the master of Emmanuel. I doat on Cambridge, and could

like to be often there. The beauty of King's College Chapel, now

it is restored, penetrated me with a visionary longing to be a

monk in it; though my life has been passed in turbulent scenes,

in pleasures-or rather pastimes, and in much fashionable

dissipation, still books, antiquity, and virt`u kept hold of a

corner of my heart, and since necessity has forced me of late

years to be a man of business, my disposition tends to be a

recluse for what remains-but it will not be my lot: and though

there is some excuse for the young doing what they like, I doubt

an old man should do nothing but what he ought, and I hope doing

one's duty is the best preparation for death. Sitting with one's

arms folded to think about it, is a very lazy way of preparing

for it. If Charles V. had resolved to make some amends for his

abominable ambition by doing good, his duty as a King, there

would have been infinitely more merit than going to doze in a

convent.(270) One may avoid active guilt in a sequestered life;

but the virtue of it is merely negative, though innocence is

beautiful.

I approve much of 'Your corrections on Sir J. Hawkins, and send

them to the Magazine. I want the exact blazon of William of

Hatsfield his arms,--I mean the Prince buried at York. Mr. Mason

and I are going to restore his monument, and I have not time to

look for them-: I know you will be so good as to assist. Yours

most sincerely.

(270) "The Spaniard, when the lust of sway

Had lost its quickening spell,

Cast crowns for rosaries away,

An empire for a cell!

"A strict accountant of his beads,

A subtle disputant on creeds,

His dotage trifled well:

Yet better had he neither known

A bigot's shrine nor despot's throne." Byron.-E.

Letter 121 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Strawberry Hill, June 19, 1777. (page 167)

I thank YOU for your notices, dear Sir, and shall remember that

on Prince William. I did see the Monthly Review, but hope one is

not guilty of the death of every man who does not make one the

dupe of a forgery. I believe M'Pherson's success with Ossian was

more The ruin of Chatterton than I. Two years passed between my

doubting the authenticity of Rowley's(271) poems and his death.

I never knew he had been in London till some time after he had

undone and poisoned himself there. The poems he sent me were

transcripts in his own hand, and even in that circumstance he

told a lie: he said he had them from the very person at Bristol

to whom he had given them. If any man was to tell you that

monkish rhymes had been dug up at Herculaneum, which was

destroyed several centuries before there was any such poetry,

should you believe it? Just the reverse is the case of Rowley's

pretended poems. They have all the elegance of Waller and Prior,

and more than Lord Surrey--but I have no objection to any body

believing what he pleases. I think poor Chatterton was an

astonishing genius-but I cannot think that Rowley foresaw metres

that were invented long after he was dead, or that our language

was more refined at Bristol in the reign of Henry V. than it was

at court under Henry VIII. One of the chaplains of the Bishop of

Exeter has found a line of Rowley in Hudibras-the monk might

foresee that too! The prematurity of Chatterton's genius is,

however, full as wonderful, as that such a prodigy as Rowley

should never have been heard of till the eighteenth century. The

youth and industry of the former are miracles, too, yet still

more' credible. There is not a symptom in the poems, but the old

words, that savours of Rowley's age--change the old words for

modern, and the whole construction is of yesterday.

(271) See in Walpole's Works, vol. iv. the Papers relative to

Chatterton; see also vol- i. P. 61 of this collection.-E.

Letter 122 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.

Strawberry Hill, July 10, 1777. (page 168)

Don't be alarmed at this thousandth letter in a week. This is

more to Lady Hamilton(272) than to you. Pray tell her I have

seen Monsieur la Bataille d'.Agincourt.(273) He brought me her

letter yesterday: and I kept him to sup, sleep in the modern

phrase, and breakfast here this morning; and flatter myself he

was, and she will be, content with the regard I paid to her

letter.

The weather is a thought warmer to-day, and I am as busy as bees

are about their hay. My hayssians(274) have cost me as much as

if I had hired them of the Landgrave.(275)

I am glad your invasion(276) is blown over. I fear I must invite

those flat-bottomed vessels hither, as the Swissess Necker has

directed them to the port of Twickenham. Madame de Blot is too

fine, and Monsieur Schomberg one of the most disagreeable, cross,

contemptuous savages I ever saw. I have often supped with him at

the Duchess de Choiseul's, and could not bear him; and now I must

be charm`e, and p`en`etr`e, and combl`e, to see him: and I shall

act it very ill, as I always do when I don't do what I like.

Madame Necker's letter is as affected and pr`ecieuse, as if

Marmontel had written it for a Peruvian milk-maid. She says I am

a philosopher, and as like Madame de S`evign`e as two peas--who

was as unlike a philosopher as a gridiron. As I have none of

Madame de S`evign`e's natural easy wit, I am rejoiced that I am

no more like a philosopher neither, and still less like a

philosophe; which is a being compounded of D'Urfey and Diogenes,

a pastoral coxcomb, and a supercilious brute.

(272) The first wife of Sir William Hamilton, envoy extraordinary

at the court of Naples. She was a Miss Barlow-E.

(273) M. le Chevalier d'Agincourt, a French antiquary, long

settled in Italy. 1. B. L. Seroux d'Agincourt, born at Beauvais

in 1730, died at Rome in 1814, having, during thirty-six years,

laboured assiduously in the composition of his grand work,

"Histoire de l'Art par les Monumens depuis sa D`ecadence au

Quatri`eme Si`ecle jusqu'`a son Renouvellement au Seizi`eme". Of

this splendid book, in six vols. folio, which was not published

until 1823, nine years after the death of the author, an

interesting review will be found in the seventh volume of the

Foreign Quarterly Review.-E.

(274) Hessians.

(275) An allusion to the seventeen thousand which had been hired

for the American service, by treaties entered into the preceding

year with the Landgravine of Hesse Cassel, the Duke of Brunswick,

and the Hereditary Prince of Hesse Cassel.-E.

(276) A party of French nobility then in England, who were to

have made a visit at Parkplace.

Letter 123 To Robert Jephson, Esq.(277)

Strawberry Hill, July 13, 1777. (page 169)

You have perhaps, Sir, paid too much regard to the observations I

took the liberty to make, by your order, to a few passages in

"Vitellia," and I must hope they were in consequence of your own

judgment too. I do not doubt of its success on the stage, if

well acted but I confess I would answer for nothing with the

present set of actors, who are not capable in tragedy of doing

any justice to it. Mrs. Barry seems to me very unequal to the

principal part, to which Mrs. Yates alone is suited. Were I the

author, I should be very sorry to have my tragedy murdered,

perhaps miscarry. Your reputation is established; you will never

forfeit it yourself-and to give your works to unworthy performers

is like sacrificing a daughter to a husband of bad character. As

to my offering it to Mr. Colman, I could merely be the messenger.

I am scarce known to him, have no right to ask a favour of him,

and I hope you know me enough to think that I am too conscious of

my own insignificance and private situation to give myself an air

of protection, and more particularly to a work of yours, Sir.

What could I say, that would carry greater weight, than "This

piece is by the author of Braganza?"(278)

A tragedy can never suffer by delay: a comedy may, because the

allusions or the manners represented in it maybe temporary. I

urge this, not to dissuade your presenting Vitellia to the stage,

but to console you if both theatres should be engaged next

winter. My own interests, from my time of life, would make me

with reason more impatient than you to see it represented, but I

am jealous of the honour Of your poetry, and I should grieve to

see Vitellia, at Covent-garden not that, except Mrs. Yates, I

have any partiality to the tragic actors at Drury-lane, though

Smith did not miscarry in Braganza-but I speak from experience.

I attended "Caractacus" last winter, and was greatly interested,

both from my friendship for Mr. Mason and from the excellence of

the poetry. I was out of all patience; for though a young Lewis

played a subordinate part very well, and Mrs. Hartley looked her

part charmingly, the Druids were so massacred and Caractacus so

much worse, that I never saw a more barbarous exhibition.

Instead of hurrying "The Law of Lombardy,"(279) which, however, I

shall delight to see finished, I again wish you to try comedy.

To my great astonishment there were more parts performed

admirably in "The School for Scandal,"(280) than I almost ever

saw in any play. Mrs. Abington was equal to the first of her

profession, Yates, the husband, Parsons, Miss Pope, and Palmer,

all shone. It seemed a marvellous resurrection of the stage.

Indeed, the play had as much merit as the actors. I have seen no

comedy that comes near it since the "Provoked Husband."

I said I was Jealous of your fame as a poet, and I truly am. The

more rapid your genius is, labour will but the more improve it.

I am very frank, but I am sure that my attention to your

reputation will excuse it. Your facility in writing exquisite

poetry may be a disadvantage; as it may not leave you time to

study the other requisites of tragedy so much as is necessary.

Your writings deserve to last for ages; but to make any work

last, it must be finished in all parts to perfection. You have

the first requisite to that perfection, for you can sacrifice

charming lines, when they do not tend to improve the whole. I

admire this resignation so much, that I wish to turn it to your

advantage. Strike out your sketches as suddenly as you please,

but retouch and retouch them, that the best judges may for ever

admire them. The works that have stood the test of ages, and

been slowly approved at first, are not those that have dazzled

contemporaries and borne away their applause, but those whose

intrinsic and laboured merit have shone the brighter on

examination. I would not curb your genius, Sir, if I did not

trust it would recoil with greater force for having obstacles

presented to it.

You will forgive my not having sent you the "Thoughts on Comedy,"

(281) as I promised, I have had no time to look them over and put

them into shape. I have been and am involved in most unpleasant

affairs of family, that take up my whole thoughts and attention.

The melancholy situation of my nephew Lord Orford, engages me

particularly, and I am not young enough to excuse postponing

business and duties for amusement. In truth, I am really too old

not to have given up literary pleasures. Nobody will tell one

when one grows dull, but one's time of life ought to tell it one.

I long ago determined to keep the archbishop in Gil Blas in my

eye. when I should advance to his caducity; but as dotage steals

in at more doors than one, perhaps the sermon I have been

preaching to you is a symptom of it. You must judge of that,

Sir. If I fancy I have been wise, and have only been peevish,

throw my lecture into the fire. I am sure the liberties I have

taken with you deserve no indulgence, if you do not discern true

friendship at the bottom of them.

(277) Now first printed.

Robert Jephson, Esq. was born in Ireland in 1736. He attained

the rank of captain in the 73d regiment, and when it was reduced

at the peace of 1763, he retired on half-pay, and procured,

through the influence of Mr. Gerard Hamilton, a Pension on the

Irish establishment. Besides several tragedies, he wrote the

farce of "Two Strings to your Bow," and "Roman Portraits," a

poem. Hardy, in his Memoirs of Lord Charlemont, says, "he was

much caressed 'and sought after by several of the first societies

in Dublin, as he possess'd much wit and pleasantry, and, when not

overcome by the spleen, was extremely amusing and entertaining."

He was a member of the Irish House of Commons, and died in 1803.

Walpole's "Thoughts on Tragedy" had been addressed, in 1775, to

this gentleman.-E.

(278) "Braganza" came out at Drury-lane theatre in 1775, and was

very successful. Walpole supplied the epilogue.-E.

(279) "The Law of Lombardy" was brought out at Drury-lane in

1779, but was only acted nine nights.-E.

(280) Sheridan's "School for Scandal" was first performed at

Drury-lane on the 8th of May, 1777.

(281) Walpole's "Thoughts on Comedy" were written in 1775 and

1776, and will be found in his Works.-E.

Letter 124 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Strawberry Hill, August 31, 1777. (page 171)

You are very kind, dear Sir, in giving me an account of your

health and occupations, and inquiring after mine. I am very

sorry you are not as free from gout, as I have been ever since

February; but I trust it will only keep you from other

complaints, and never prevent your amusing yourself, which you

are one of those few happy beings that can always do; and your

temper is so good, and your mind so naturally philosophic,

composed, and contented, that you neither want the world, care

about it, nor are affected by any thing that occurs in it. This

is true wisdom, but wisdom which nothing can give but

constitution. Detached amusements have always made a great part

of my own delight, and have sown my life with some of its best

moments. My intention was, that they should be the employments

of my latter years, but fate seems to have chalked out a very

different scene for me! The misfortune of my nephew has involved

me in business, and consequently care, and opens a scene of

disputes, with which I shall not molest your tranquillity.

The dangerous situation in which his Royal Highness the Duke of

Gloucester has been, and out of which I doubt he is scarce yet

emerged, though better, has added more thorns to my uneasy mind.

The Duchess's daughters are at Hampton-court, and partly under my

care. In one word, my whole summer has been engrossed by duties,

which has confined me at home, without indulging myself in a

single pursuit to my taste.

In short, as I have told you before, I often wish myself a monk

at Cambridge. Writers on government condemn, very properly, a

recluse life, as contrary to Nature's interest, who loves

procreation; but as Nature seems not very desirous that we should

procreate to threescore years and ten, I think convents very

suitable retreats for those whom our Alma Mater does not

emphatically call to her Opus Magnum. And though, to be sure,

gray hairs are fittest to conduct state affairs, yet as the

Rehoboams of the world (Louis XVI. excepted) do not always trust

the rudder of government to ancient hands, old gentlemen,

methinks, are very ill placed [when not at the council-board] any

where but in a cloister. As I have no more vocation to the

ministry than to carrying on my family, I sigh after a dormitory;

and as in six weeks my clock will strike sixty, I wish I had

nothing more to do with the world. I am not tired of living,

but-what signifies sketching visions? One must take one's lot as

it comes; bitter and sweet"are poured into every cup. To-morrow

may be pleasanter than to-day. Nothing lasts of one colour. One

must embrace the cloister, or take the chances of the world as

they present themselves; and since uninterrupted happiness would

but embitter the certainty that even that must end, rubs and

crosses should be softened by the same consideration. I am not

so busied, but I shall be very glad of a sight of your

manuscript, and will return it carefully. I will thank you, too,

for the print of Mr. Jenyns, which I have not, nor have seen.'

Adieu! Yours most cordially.

Letter 125 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Strawberry Hill, Sept. 16, 1777. (page 172)

I have received your volume safely, dear Sir, and hasten to thank

you before I have read a page, that you may be in no pain about

its arrival. I will return it with the greatest care as soon as

I have finished it, and at the same time will send Mr. Essex the

bills, as I beg you will let him know. I have no less reason for

writing immediately, to thank you for the great confidence you

place in me. You talk of nonsense; alas! what are all our

opinions else? if we search for truth before we fix our

principles, what do we find but doubt? And which of us begins

the search a tabula rasa? Nay, where can we hunt but in volumes

of error or purposed delusion? Have not we, too, a bias in our

Minds--our passions? They will turn the scale in favour of the

doctrines most agreeable to them. Yet let us be a little vain:

you and I differ radically in our principles, and yet in forty

years they have never cast a gloom over our friendship. We could

give the world a reason that it would not like. We have both

been sincere, have both been consistent, and neither adopted our

principles nor have varied them for our interest.

Your labour, as far as I am acquainted with it, astonishes me: it

shows what can be achieved by a man that does not lose a moment;

and, which is still better, how happy the man is who can always

employ himself I do not believe that the proud prelate, who would

not make you a little happier, is half so much to be envied.

Thank you for the print of Soame Jenyns: it is a proof of Sir

Joshua's art, who could give a strong resemblance of so uncouth a

countenance without leaving it disagreeable.

The Duke of Gloucester is miraculously revived. For two whole

days I doubted whether he was not dead. I hope fatalists and

omenmongers will be confuted; and thus, as his grandfather broke

the charm of the second of the name being an unfortunate prince,

the Duke will baffle that, which has made the title of Gloucester

unpropitious. Adieu!

Letter 126 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.

Tuesday evening, Sept. 16, 1777. (page 173)

I have got a delightful plaything, if I had time for play. It is

a new sort of camera-obscura(282) for drawing the portraits of

persons, or prospects, or insides of rooms, and does not depend

on the sun or any thing. The misfortune is, that there is a vast

deal of machinery and putting together, and I am the worst person

living for managing it. You know I am impenetrably dull in every

thing that requires a grain of common sense. The inventor is to

come to me on Friday, and try if he can make me remember my right

hand from my left. I could as soon have invented my machine as

manage it; yet it has cost me ten guineas, and may cost me as

much more as I please for improving it. u will conclude it was

the dearness tempted me. I believe I must keep an astronomer,

like Mr. Beauclerk, to help me play with my rattle. The

inventor, who seems very modest and simple, but I conclude an

able flatterer, was in love with my house, and vowed nothing ever

suited his camera so well. To be sure, the painted windows and

the prospects, and the Gothic chimneys, etc. etc. were the

delights of one's eyes, when no bigger than a silver penny. You

would know how to manage it, as if you had never done any thing

else. Had not you better come and see it? You will learn how to

conduct it, with the pleasure of correcting my awkwardness and

unlearnability. Sir Joshua Reynolds and West have each got one;

and the Duke of Northumberland is so charmed with the invention,

that I dare say he can talk upon and explain it till I should

understand ten times less of the matter than I do. Remember,

neither Lady Ailesbury, nor you, nor Mrs. Damer, have seen my new

divine closet, nor the billiard-sticks with which the Countess of

Pembroke And Arcadia used to play with her brother Sir Philip;

nor the portrait of la belle Jennings in the state bedchamber. I

go to town this day s'ennight for a day or two; and as, to be

sure, Mount Edgecumbe has put you out of humour with Park-place,

you may deign to leave it for a moment. I never did see

Cotchel,(283) and am sorry. Is not the old wardrobe there still?

There was one from the time of Cain; but Adam's breeches and

Eve's under-petticoat were eaten by a goat in the ark.

Good-night!

(282) The machine called a Delineator.

(283) The old residence of the family of Edgecumbe, twelve miles

distant from Mount Edgecumbe.

Letter 127 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Strawberry Hill, Sept. 22, 1777. (page 173)

I return YOU Your manuscript, dear Sir, with a thousand thanks,

and shall be impatient to hear that you receive it safe. It has

amused me much, and I admire Mr. Baker(284) for having been able

to show so much sense on so dry a subject. I wish, as you say

you have materials for it, that you would write his life. He

deserved it much more than most of those he has recorded. His

book on the Deficiencies of Learning is most excellent, and far

too little known. I admire his moderation, too, which was

extraordinary in a man who had suffered so much for his

principles. Yet they warped even him, for he rejects Bishop

Burnet's character of Bishop Gunning in p. 200, and yet in the

very next page gives the same character of him. Burnet's words

are, "he had a great confusion of things in his head, but could

bring nothing into method:" pray compare this with p. 201. I see

nothing in which they differ, except that Mr. Burnet does not

talk so much of his comeliness as Mr. Baker.

I Shall not commend your moderation, when you excuse such a man

as Bishop Watson. Nor ought you to be angry with Burnet, but

with the witnesses on whose evidence Watson was convicted. To

tell you the truth, I am glad when such faults are found with

Burnet; for it shows his enemies are not angry at his telling

falsehoods, but the truth. Must not an historian say a bishop

was convicted Of Simony, if he was? I will tell you what was

said of Burnet's History, by one whose testimony you yourself

would not dispute--at least you would not in any thing else.

That confessor said, "Damn him, he has told a great deal of

truth, but where the devil did he learn it?" This was St.

Atterbury's testimony.

I shall take the liberty of reproving you, too, dear Sir, for

defending that abominable murderess Queen Christina--and how can

you doubt her conversation with Burnet? you must know there are

a thousand evidences of her laughing at the religion she

embraced. If you approve her, I will allow YOU to Condemn Lord

Russel and Algernon Sidney. Well, as we shall never have the

same heroes, we Will not dispute about them, nor shall I find

fault when you have given me so much entertainment: it would be

very Ungrateful, and I have a thousand obligations to you, and

want to have more. I want to see more of your manuscripts: they

are full of curiosities, and I love some of your heroes, too: I

honour Bishop Fisher, and love Mr. Baker. If I might choose, I

should like to see your account of the persons educated at

King's-but as you may have objections, I insist, if you have,

that you make me no word of answer. It is, perhaps, impertinent

to ask it, and silence will lay neither of us under any

difficulty. I have no right to make such a request, nor do now,

but on the foot of its proving totally indifferent to you. You

will make me blame

myself, if it should a moment distress you; and I am sure you are

too good-natured to put me out of humour with myself, which your

making no answer would not do.

I enclose my bills for Mr. Essex, and will trouble you to send

them to him. I again thank you, and trust you will be as

friendly free with me, as I have been with you: you know I am a

brother monk in every thing but religious and political opinions.

I only laugh at the thirty' nine articles: but abhor Calvin as

much as I do the Queen of Sweden, for he was as thorough an

assassin. Yours ever.

P. S. As I have a great mind, and, indeed, ought, when I require

it, to show moderation, and when I have not, ought to confess it,

which I do, for I Own I am not moderate on certain points; if you

are busy yourself and will send me the materials, I will draw up

the life 4 Mr. Baker; and, if you are not content with it, you

shall burn it in Smithfield. In good truth, I revere

conscientious martyrs, of all sects, communions, and parties--I

heartily pity them, if they are weak men. When they are as

sensible as Mr. Baker, I doubt my own understanding more than

his. I know I have not his virtues, but should delight in doing

justice to them; and, perhaps, from a man of a different party

the testimony would be more to his honour. I do not call myself

of different principles; because a man that thinks himself bound

by his oath, can be a man of no principle if he violates it. I

do not mean to deny that many men might think King James's breach

of his oath a dispensation from theirs; but, if they did not

think so, or did not think their duty to their country obliged

them to renounce their King, I should never defend those who took

the new oaths from interest.

(284) Thomas Baker, the learned author of "Reflections on

Learning, wherein is shown the insufficiency thereof in its

several particulars, in order to evince the usefulness and

necessity Of Revelation;" a work which has gone through numerous

editions, and /was at one time one of the most popular books in

the language, He was born at Durham in 1656, and died in the

office of commoner master of st. John's College, Cambridge, in

July 1740.-E.

Letter 128 To Robert Jephson, Esq.(285)

Strawberry Hill, Oct. 1, 1777. (page 175)

To confer favours, Sir, is certainly not giving trouble: and had

I the most constant occupation, I should contrive to find moments

for reading your works. I have passed a most melancholy summer,

from different distresses in my family; and though my nephew's

situation and other avocations prevent my having but very little

time for literary amusements, I did not mean to debar myself of

the pleasure of hearing from my friends. Unfortunately, at

present, it is impossible for me to profit of your kindness; not

from my own business, but from the absence of Mr. Garrick. He is

gone into Staffirdshire to marry a nephew, and thence will pass

into Wales to superintend a play that is to be acted at Sir

Watkin Williams's. I am even afraid I shall not be the first

apprised of his return, as I possibly may remove to town in

expectation of the Duchess of Gloucester,' before he is at home

again. I shall not neglect my own satisfaction; but mention this

circumstance, that you may not suspect me of inattention, if I

should not get sight of your tragedy so soon as I wish. I am,

Sir, with great regard.

(285) Now first printed.

Letter 129 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.

Oct. 5, 1777. (page 176)

You are so exceedingly good, I shall assuredly accept your

proposal in the fullest sense, and to ensure Mrs. Damer, beg I

may expect you on Saturday next the 11th. If Lord and Lady

william Campbell will do me the honour of accompanying YOU, I

shall be most happy to see them, and expect Miss Caroline.(286)

Let me know about them that the state bedchamber may be aired.

My difficulties about removing from home arise from the

consciousness of my own weakness. I make it a rule, as much as I

can, to conform wherever I go. Though I am threescore to-day, I

should not think that an age for giving every thing up; but it

is, for whatever one has not strength to perform. You, though

not a vast deal younger, are as healthy and strong, thank God! as

ever you was: and you cannot have ideas of the mortification of

being stared at by strangers and servants, when one hobbles, or

cannot do as others do. I delight in being with you, and the

Richmonds, and those I love and know; but the crowds of young

people, and Chichester folks, and officers, and strange servants,

make me afraid of Goodwood, I own My spirits are never low; but

they seldom will last out the whole day; and though I dare to say

I appear to many capricious, and different from the rest of the

world, there is more reason in my behaviour than there seems.

You know in London I seldom stir out in a morning, and always

late; it is because I want a great deal of rest. Exercise never

did agree with me: and it is hard if I do not know myself by this

time; and what has done so well for me will probably suit me best

for the rest of my life. It would be ridiculous to talk so much

of myself, and to enter into such trifling details, but you are

the person in the world that I wish to convince that I do not act

merely from humour or ill-humour; though I confess at the same

time that I want your bonhommie, and have a disposition not to

care at all for people that I do not absolutely like. I could

say a great deal more on this head, but it is not proper; though,

when one has pretty much done with the world, I think with Lady

Blandford, that One may indulge one's self in one's own whims and

partialities in one's own house. I do not mean, still less to

profess, retirement, because it is less ridiculous to go on with

the world to the last, than to return to it; but in a quiet way

it has long been my purpose to drop a great deal of it. Of all

things I am farthest from not intending to come often to

Park-place, whenever you have little company; and I had rather be

with you, in November than July, because I am so totally unable

to walk farther than a snail. I will never say any more on these

subjects, because there may be as much affectation in being over

old, as folly in being over young. My idea of age is, that one

has nothing really to do but what one ought, and what is

reasonable. All affectations are pretensions; and pretending to

be any thing one is not, cannot deceive when one is known, as

every body must be That has lived long. I do not mean that old

folks may not have pleasures if they can; but then I think those

pleasures are confined to being comfortable, and to enjoying the

few friends one has not outlived. I am so fair as to own, that

one's duties are not pleasures. I have given up a great deal of

my time to nephews and nieces, even to some I can have little

affection for. I do love my nieces, nay like them; but people

above forty years younger are certainly not the society I should

seek. They can only think and talk of what is, or is to come; I

certainly am more disposed to think and talk of what is past: and

the obligation of passing the end of a long life in sets of

totally new company is more irksome to me than passing a great

deal of my time, as I do, quite alone. Family love and pride

make me interest myself about the young people of my own

family-for the whole rest of the Young world, they are as

indifferent to me as puppets or black children. This is my

creed, and a key to my whole conduct, and the more likely to

remain my creed, as I think it is raisonn`e. If I could paint my

Opinions instead of writing them I don't know whether it would

not make a new sort of alphabet-I should use different colours

for different affections at different ages. When I speak of

love, affection, friendship, taste, liking, I should draw them

rose colour, carmine, blue, green, yellow, for my contemporaries:

for new comers, the first would be of no colour; the others,

purple, brown, crimson, and changeable. Remember, one tells

one's creed only to one's confessor, that is sub sigillo. I

write to you as I think; to others as I must. Adieu!

(286) Miss Caroline Campbell, eldest daughter of Lord William

Campbell.

Letter 130 To Robert Jephson, Esq.(287)

Strawberry Hill, Oct. 17, 1777. (page 177)

Mr. Garrick returned but two days ago, Sir, and I did not receive

your tragedy(288) till this morning; so I could only read it once

very rapidly and without any proper attention to particular

passages though, even so, some struck me as very fine. You have

encouraged me rather to criticise than flatter you; and you are

in the right, for you have even profited of so weak a judgment as

mine, and always improved the passages I objected to. Indeed,

this is not quite a fair return, as it was inverting my method,

by flattering instead of finding fault with me; and a critic that

meets with submission, is apt to grow vain, and insolent, and

capricious. Still as I am persuaded that all criticisms, though

erroneous, before an author appeals to the public, are friendly,

I will fairly tell you what parts of your tragedy have struck me

as objectionable on so superficial a perusal.

In general, the language appears to me too metaphoric; especially

as used by all the characters. You seem to me to have imitated

Beaumont and Fletcher, though your play is superior to all

theirs. In truth, I think the diction is sometimes obscure from

being so figurative, especially in the first act. Will you allow

me to mention two instances?

"And craven Sloth, moulting his sleepless plumes,

Nods drowsy wonder at th' adventurous wing

That soars the shining azure o'er his head."

I own I do not understand why Sloth's plumes are sleepless; and I

think that nodding wonder, and soaring azure, are expressions too

Greek to be so close together, and too poetic for dialogue. The

other passage is--

"The wise should watch th' event on Fortune's wheel,"

and the seven following lines. The images are very fine, but

demand more attention than common audiences are capable of. In

Braganza every image is strikingly clear.

I am afraid I am not quite satisfied with the conduct of your

piece. Bireno's conduct on the attack on the princess seems too

precipitate, and not managed. It is still more incredible, that

Paladore should confess his passion to his rival; and not less

so, that a private man and a stranger should doubt the princess's

faith, when she had preferred him to his rival, a prince of the

blood and her destined husband; and that without the smallest

inquiry he should believe Bireno was admitted privately to her

apartment, when on her not rejecting him, he might have access to

her openly. One cannot conceive her meaning in offending her

father by refusing so proper a match, `and intriguing with the

very man she was to marry, and whom she had refused. Paladore's

credulity is not of a piece with the account given of his wisdom,

which had made him admitted to the king'S Counsels.

I think, when you bestow Sophia on Paladore, you forget that the

king had declared he was obliged to give his daughter to a prince

of his own blood; nor do I see any reason for Bireno's stabbing

Ascanio, who was sure of being put to death when their treachery

was discovered.

The character of the princess is very noble and well sustained.

When I said I did not conceive her meaning, I expressed myself

ill. I did not suppose she, did intrigue with Bireno; but I

meant that it was not natural Paladore should suspect she did,

since it is inconceivable that a princess should refuse her

cousin in marriage for the mere caprice of intriguing with him.

Had she managed her father, and, from the dread of his anger,

temporized about Bireno, Paladore would have had more reason to

doubt her. Would it not too be more natural for Bireno to

incense the king against Paladore than to endeavour to make the

latter jealous of Sophia? At least I think Bireno would have

more chance of Poisoning Paladore's mind, if he did not discover

to him that he knew of his passion. Forgive me, Sir but I cannot

reconcile to probability Paladore's believing that Sophia had

rejected Bireno for a husband, though it would please her father,

and yet chose to intrigue with him in defiance of so serious and

extraordinary a law. Either his credulity or his jealousy reduce

Paladore to a lover very unworthy of such a woman as Sophia. For

her sake I wish to see him more deserving of her.

You are so great a poet, Sir, that you have no occasion to labour

any thing but your plots. You can express any thing you please.

If the conduct is natural, you will not want words. Nay, I

rather fear your indulging your poetic vein too far, for your

language is sometimes sublime enough for odes, which admit the

height of enthusiasm, which Horace will not allow to tragic

writers. You could set up twenty of our tragic authors with

lines that you could afford to reject, though for no reason but

their being too fine, as in landscape-painting some parts must be

under-coloured to give the higher relief to the rest. Will you

not think me too difficult and squeamish, when I find the

language of "The Law of Lombardy" too rich?

I beg your pardon, but it is more difficult for you to please me,

than any body. I interest myself in your success and your glory.

You must be perfect in all parts, in nature, simplicity, and

character, as well as in the most charming poetry, or I shall not

be content. If I dared, I would beg you to trust me with your

plots, before you write a line. When a subject seizes you, your

impetuosity cannot breathe till you have executed your plan. You

must be curbed, as other poets want to be spurred. When your

sketch is made, you must study the characters and the audience.

It is not flattering you to say, that the least you have to do is

to write your play.

(287) Now first printed.

(288) "The Law of Lombardy;" see ant`e, p. 170, letter 123.-E.

Letter 131 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Strawberry Hill, Oct. 19, 1777. (page 179)

Thank you much, dear sir, for the sight of the book, which I

return by Mr. Essex It is not new to me that Burnet paid his

court on the other side in the former part of his life* nor will

I insist that he changed On conviction, which might be said, and

generally is, for all converts, even those who shift their

principles the most glaringly from interest. Duke

Lauderdale,(289) indeed, was such a dog, that the least honest

man must have been driven to detest him, however connected with

him. I doubt Burnet could not be blind to his character, when he

wrote the dedication. In truth, I have given up many of my

saints, but not on the accusations of such wretches as

Dalrymple(290) and Macpherson;(291) nor can men, so much their

opposites, shake my faith in Lord Russel and Algernon Sidney. I

do not relinquish those that scaled their integrity with their

blood, but such as have taken thirty pieces of silver.

I was sorry you said we had any variance. We have differed in

sentiments, but not in friendship. Two men, however unlike in

principles, may be perfect friends, when both are sincere in

their opinions as we are. Much less shall we quarrel about those

of our separate parties, since very few on either side have been

so invariably consistent as you and I have been; and therefore we

are more sure of each other's integrity, than that of men whom we

know less and who did vary from themselves. As you and I are

only speculative persons, and no actors, it would be very idle to

squabble about those that do not exist. In short, we are, I

trust, in as perfect good humour with each other as we have been

these forty years.

Pray do not hurry yourself about the anecdotes of Mr. Baker, nor

neglect other occupations on that account. I shall certainly not

have time to do any thing this year. I expect the Duke and

Duchess of Gloucester in a very few days, must go to town as soon

as they arrive, and shall probably have not much idle leisure

before next summer.

It is not very discreet to look even so far forward, nor am I apt

any longer to lay distant plans. A little sedentary literary

amusement is indeed no very lofty castle in the air, if I do lay

the foundation in idea seven or eight months beforehand.

Whatever manuscripts you lend me, I shall be very grateful for.

They entertain me exceedingly, and I promise you we will not have

the shadow of an argument about them. I do not love disputation,

even with those most indifferent to me. Your pardon I most

sincerely beg for having contested a single point with you. I am

sure it was not with a grain of ill-humour towards you: on the

contrary, it was from wishing at that moment that you did not

approve though I disliked--but even that I give up as

unreasonable.

You are in the right, dear Sir, not to apply to Masters for any

papers he may have relating to Mr. Baker.(292) It is a trumpery

fellow', from whom one would rather receive a refusal than an

obligation.

I am sorry to hear Mr. Lort has the gout, and still more

concerned that you still suffer from it. Such patience and

temper as yours are the only palliatives. As the bootikins have

so much abridged and softened my fits, I do not expect their

return with the alarm and horror I used to do, and that is being

cured of one half the complaints. I had scarce any pain last

time, and did not keep my bed a day, and had no gout at all in

either foot. May not I ask you if this is not some merit in the

bootikins? To have cured me of my apprehensions is to me a vast

deal, for now the intervals do not connect the fits. You will

understand, that I mean to speak a word to you in favour of the

bootikins, for can one feel benefit, and not wish to impart it to

a suffering friend? Indeed I am yours most sincerely.

(289) John second Earl of Lauderdale, who, having distinguished

himself-by his zealous and active exertions in the royal cause

during the civil wars, was, after the restoration created in May

1672, Marquis Of March and Duke of Lauderdale, in Scotland.-E.

(290) Sir John Dalrymple, author of "Memoirs of Great Britain and

Ireland." Edinburgh, 1771-1773-1788; 3 vols. 4to.-E.

(291) James M'Pherson, the editor of Ossian, who had published a

"History of Great Britain from the Restoration in 1660 to the

Accession of the House of Hanover," 1775, 2 Vols. 4to - and also

"An Introduction to the History of Great Britain and Ireland."

London, 4to. 1771.-E.

(292) The papers which Masters possessed he himself eventually

published, in 1784, under the title of,, Memoirs of the Life and

Writings of Thomas Baker, from the Papers of Dr. Zachary Grey:

with a Catalogue of his Manuscript Collections. By R.

Masters."-E.

Letter 132 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Arlington Street, March 31, 1778. (page 181)

I did think it long, indeed, dear Sir, since I heard from you,

and am very sorry the gout was the cause. I hope after such long

persecution you will have less now than you apprehend. I should

not have been silent myself, had I had any thing to tell you that

you would have cared to hear.

Politics have been the only language, and abuse the only

expression of the winter, neither of which are, or deserve to be,

inmates of your peaceable hermitage. I wish, however, they may

not have grown so serious as to threaten every retreat with

intrusion! I will let you know when I am settled at

Strawberry-hill, and can look over your kind collections relating

to Mr. Baker. He certainly deserves his place in the Biographia,

but I am not surprised that you would not submit to his being

instituted and inducted by a Presbyterian. In troth, I, who have

not the same zeal against dissenters, do not at all desire to

peruse the History of their Apostles, which are generally very

uninteresting.

YOU must excuse the shortness of this, in which, too, I have been

interrupted: my nephew is as suddenly recovered as he did last

time; and, though I am far from thinking him perfectly in his

senses, a great deal of his disorder is removed, which, though it

will save me a great deal of trouble, hurries me at present, and

forces me to conclude.

Letter 133 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Strawberry Hill, April 23, 1778. (page 181)

I thank you, dear Sir, for the notice of William Le

Worcestre's(293) appearance, and will send for my book as soon as

I go to town, which will not be till next week. I have been here

since Friday as much a hermit as yourself. I wanted air and

quiet, having been much fatigued on my nephew's amendment, trying

to dissuade him from making the campaign with his militia; but in

vain! I now dread hearing of some eccentric freak. I am sorry

Mr. Tyson has quite dropped me, though he sometimes comes to

town. I am still more concerned at your frequent disorders-I

hope their chief seat is unwillingness to move.

Your Bakeriana will be very welcome about June: I shall not be

completely resident here till then, at least not have leisure, as

May is the month I have most visits from town. As few spare

hours as I have, I have contrived to go through Mr. Pennant's

Welsh Tour, and Warton's second Volume;(294) both which come

within the circle of your pursuits. I have far advanced, too, in

Lord Hardwicke's first volume of State Papers.(295) I have yet

found nothing that appears a new scene, or sets the old in a new

light; yet they are rather amusing, though not in proportion to

the bulk of the volumes. One likes to hear actors speak for

themselves; but, on the other hand, they use a great many more

words than are necessary: and when one knows the events from

history, it is a little tiresome to go back to the details and

the delays.

I should be glad to employ Mr. Essex on my offices, but the

impending war with France deters me. It is not a season for

expense! I could like to leave my little castle complete; but,

though I am only a spectator, I cannot be indifferent to the

aspect of the times, as the country gentleman was, who was going

out with his hounds as the two armies at Edge-hill were going to

engage. I wish for peace and tranquillity, and should be glad to

pass my remaining hours in the idle and retired amusements I

love, and without any solicitude for my country. Adieu!

(293) "Itineraria Symonis, Simeonis et Willelmi de Worcestre."

Cantab. 1778, 8vo.; edited by Dr. James Nasmith, who published

the excellent Catalogue of MSS, which Archbishop Parker left to

Corpus Christi College, at Cambridge.-E.

(294) Thomas Warton's "History Of English Poetry."-E.

(295) Miscellaneous State Papers, from 1501 to 1726, published by

the Earl of Hardwicke, in two volumes 4to.-E.

Letter 134 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Arlington Street, May 21, 1778. (page 182)

I will not flatter you: I was not in the least amused with either

Simon, Simeon, or William of Worcestre. If there was any thing

tolerable in either, it was the part omitted, or the part I did

not read, which was the Journey to Jerusalem, about which I have

not the smallest curiosity. I thank you for mentioning the

Gentleman's Magazine, which I sent for.

Mr. Essex has called upon me, and left me the drawing of a

bridge, with which I am perfectly pleased-but I was unluckily out

of town; he left no direction, and I know not where to seek him

in this overgrown bottle of hay. I still hope he will call again

before his return.

May not I, should not I, wish you joy on the restoration of

popery?(296) I expect soon to see Capuchins tramping about, and

Jesuits in high places. We are relapsing fast to our pristine

state, and have nothing but our island, and our old religion.

Mr. Nasmith's publication directed me to the MSS. in Benet

Library, which I did not know was printed. I found two or three

from which I should be glad to have transcripts, and would

willingly pay for; but I left the book at Strawberry, and must

trouble you another time with that commission.

The city wants to bury Lord Chatham(297) in St. Paul's; which, as

a person said to me this morning, would literally be "robbing

Peter to pay Paul." I wish it could be so, that there might be

some decoration in that nudity, en attendant the re-establishment

of various altars. It is not my design to purchase the new

edition of the Biographia; I trust they will give the old

purchasers the additions as a supplement. I had corrected the

errata of the press, throughout my copy, but I could not take the

trouble of transcribing them, nor could lend them the originals,

as I am apt to scribble notes in the margins of all my books that

interest me at all. Pray let me know if Baker's Life is among

the additions, and whether you are satisfied with it, as there

could not be events enough in his retired life to justify two

accounts of it.

There are no new old news, and you care for nothing Within the

memory of man. I am always intending to draw up an account of my

intercourse with Chatterton, which I take very kindly you remind

me of, but some avocation or other has still prevented it. My

perfect innocence of having indirectly been an ingredient in his

dismal fate, which happened two years after our correspondence,

and after he had exhausted both his resources and his

constitution, have made it more easy to prove that I never saw

him, knew nothing of his ever being in London, and was the first

person, instead of the last, on whom he had practised his

impositions, and founded his chimeric hopes of promotion. My

very first, or at least second letter, undeceived him in those

views, and our correspondence(298) was broken off before he

quitted his aster's business at Bristol-so that his

disappointment with me was but his first ill success; and he

resented my incredulity so much, that he never condescended to

let me see him. Indeed, what I have said now to you, and which

cannot be controverted by a shadow of a doubt, would be

sufficient vindication. I could only add to the proofs, a vain

regret of never having known his distresses, which his amazing

genius would have tempted me to relieve, though I fear he had no

other claim to compassion. Mr. Warton has said enough to open

the eyes of every one who is not greatly prejudiced to his

forgeries. Dr. Milles is one who will not make a bow to Dr.

Percy for not being as wilfully blind as himself-but when he gets

a beam in his eye that he takes for an antique truth, there is no

persuading him to submit to be coached. Adieu!

(296) Walpole alludes to the bill for the Relief of the Roman

Catholics which released their priests from prosecution, and

allowed members of that religion to purchase lands and take them

by descent. It passed both houses without opposition.-E.

(297) The Earl of Chatham died on the 10th Of May 1778. His

remains were honoured with a public funeral in Westminster Abbey,

his debts were paid by the nation, and an annuity of four

thousand pounds settled upon the earldom of Chatham.-E.

(298) Walpole's correspondence with Chatterton took place in

March and April 1769. The death Of the young poet happened in

August 1770, in consequence of a dose Of arsenic, at his lodgings

in Brook-street, Holborn.-E.

Letter 135 To The Rev. William Mason.

[1778.)(299) (page 184)

The purport of Dr. Robertson's visit was to inquire where he

could find materials for the reigns of King William and Queen

Anne, which he means to write as a supplement to David Hume. I

had heard of his purpose, but did not own I knew it, that my

discouragement might seem the more natural. I do not care a

straw what he writes about the church's wet-nurse, Goody Anne;

but no Scot is worthy of being the historian of William, but Dr.

Watson.(300) When he had told me his object, I said, "Write the

reign of King William, Dr. Robertson! That is a great task! I

look on him as the greatest man of modern times since his

ancestor William Prince of Orange." I soon found the Doctor had

very little idea of him, or had taken upon trust the pitiful

partialities of Dalrymple and Macpherson. I said, "Sir, I do not

doubt but that King William came over with a view to the crown.

Nor was he called upon by patriotism, for he was not an

Englishman to assert our liberties. No; his patriotism was of a

higher rank. He aimed not at the crown of England from ambition,

but to employ its forces and wealth against Louis XIV. for the

common cause of the liberties of Europe. The Whigs did not

understand the extent of his views, and the Tories betrayed him.

He has been thought not to have understood us; but the truth was,

he took either party as it was predominant, that he might sway

the Parliament to support his general plan." The Doctor,

suspecting that I doubted his principles being enlarged enough to

do justice to so great a character, told me he himself had been

born and bred a Whig, though he owned he was not a moderate one-

-I believe, a very moderate one. I said Macpherson had done

great injustice to another hero, the Duke of Marlborough, whom he

accuses of betraying the design on Brest to Louis XIV. The truth

was, as I heard often in my youth from my father, my uncle, and

old persons who had lived in those times, that the Duke trusted

the Duchess with the secret, and she her sister the popish

Duchess of Tyrconnel, who was as poor and as bigoted as a church

mouse. A corroboration of this was the wise and sententious

answer of King William to the Duke, whom he taxed with having

betrayed the secret. "upon my honour, Sir," said the Duke, "I

told it to nobody but my wife." "I did not tell it to mine!"

said the King.