Mr. Gray thinks that some Milton or some Cromwell may be lost to

the world under the garb of a ploughman. Others may suppose that

some excellent jack-pudding may lie hidden under red velvet and

ermine. I cannot say that by the experiment of last night the

latter hypothesis has been demonstrated, any more than the

inverse proposition in France, where, though there seem to be

many as bloody-minded rascals as Cromwell, I can discover none of

his abilities.(699) They have settled nothing like a

constitution; on the contrary, they seem to protract every thing

but violence, as much as they can, in order to keep their Louie a

day, which is more than two-thirds of the Asset they perhaps ever

saw in a month. I do not love legislators that pay themselves so

amply! They might have had as good a constitution as twenty-four

millions of people could comport. As they have voted an army of

an hundred and fifty thousand men, I know what their constitution

will be, after passing through a civil war. In short, I detest

them: they have done irreparable injury to liberty, for no

monarch will ever summon `etats again; and all the real service

that will result from their fury will be, that every King in

Europe, for these twenty, or perhaps thirty years to come, will

be content with the prerogative he has. without venturing to

augment it.

The Empress of Russia has thrashed the King of Sweden; and the

King of Sweden has thrashed the Empress of Russia. I am more

glad that both are beaten than that either is victorious ; for I

do not, like our newspapers, and such admirers, fall in love with

heroes and heroines who make war without a glimpse of

provocation. I do like our makincy peace, whether we had

provocation or not. I am forced to deal in European news, my

dear lord, for I have no homespun. I don't think my whole

inkhorn could invent another paragraph; and therefore I will take

my leave, with (your lordship knows) every kind wish for your

health and happiness.(700)

(698) In the following month "The Follies of a Day" was performed

at Lord Barrymore's private theatre, at Wergrave. "His lordship,

in the character of the gardener," according to the newspapers,

"was highly comic, and his humour was not overstrained: the whole

concluded with a dance, in which was introduced a favourite pas

Russe, by Lord Barrymore and Mr. Delpini, which kept the theatre

in a roar."-E.

(699) Gibbon, in a letter written a few months before from

Lausanne to Lord Sheffield, makes the following reflections:--

"The French nation had a glorious opportunity, but they have

abused and may lose their advantages. If they had been content

with a liberal translation of our system, if they had respected

the prerogatives of the crown and the privileges of the nobles,

they might have raised a solid fabric on the only true

foundation, the natural aristocracy of a great country. How

different is the prospect! Their King brought a captive to

Paris, after his palace had been stained with the blood of his

guards; the nobles in exile; the clergy plundered in a way which

strikes at the root of all property; the capital an independent

republic; the union of the provinces dissolved; the flames of

discord kindled by the worst of men, and the honestest of the

Assembly a set of wild visionaries. As yet there is no symptom

of a great man, a Richelieu or a Cromwell, arising either to

restore the monarchy, or to lead the commonwealth."-E.

(700) This appears to have been the last letter addressed by

Walpole to the Earl of Strafford. His lordship died at Wentworth

Castle, on the 10th of March following, in his seventy-ninth

year.-E.

Letter 355 To Sir David Dalrymple.(701)

Strawberry Hill, Sept. 21, 1790. (page 454)

So many years, Sir, have elapsed since I saw Burleigh, that I

cannot in general pretend to recollect the pictures Well. I do

remember that there was a surfeit of pieces by Luca Jordano, and

Carlo Dolce, no capital masters, and posterior to the excellent.

The Earl of Exeter, who resided long at Rome in the time of those

two painters, seemed to have employed them entirely during his

sojourn there. I was not struck more than you, Sir, with the

celebrated Death of Seneca, though one of the best works of

Jordano. Perhaps Prior's verses lifted it to part of its fame,

though even those verses are inferior to many of that charming

poet's compositions. Upon the whole, Burleigh is a noble palace,

contains many fine things, and the inside court struck me with

admiration and reverence. The Shakspeare Gallery is truly most

inadequate to its prototypes but how should it be worthy of them!

If we could recall the brightest luminaries of painting, could

they do justice to Shakspeare? Was Raphael himself as great a

genius in his art as the author of Macbeth? and who could draw

Falstaffe, but the writer of Falstaffe? I am entirely of your

opinion, Sir, that two of Northcote's pictures, from King John

and Richard the Third, are at the head of the collection. In

Macklin's Gallery of Poets and Scripture, there are much better

pictures than at Boydell's. Opie's Jephthah's Vow is a truly

fine performance, and would be so in any assemblage of paintings;

as Sir Joshua's Death of Beaufort is worthy of none: the Imp is

burlesque, and the Cardinal seems terrified at him as before him,

when the Imp is behind him. In Sir Thomas Hanmer's edition there

is a print that gives the fact simply, pathetically, and with

dignity, and just as you wish it told.

My sentiments on French politics concur as much with yours as

they do on subjects above. The National Assembly set out too

absurdly and extravagantly, not to throw their country into the

last confusion; which is not the way of correcting a government,

but more probably of producing a worse, bad as the old was, and

thence they will have given a lasting wound to liberty: for what

king will ever call `Etats again, if he can possibly help it! The

new legislators were pedants, not politicians, when they

announced the equality of all men. We are all born so, no doubt,

abstractedly; and physically capable of being kept so, were it

possible to establish a perfect government, and give the same

education to all men. But are they so in the present

constitution of society, under a bad government, where most have

had no education at all, but have been debased, brutified, by a

long train and mixture of superstition and oppression, and

witnesses to the luxury and vices of their superiors, which they

could only envy and not enjoy? It was turning tigers loose; and

the degradation of the nobility pointed out the prey. Could it

be expected that savages so hallooed on to outrage and void of

any notions of reciprocal"duties and obligations, would fall into

a regular system of' acting as citizens under the government of

reason and justice? It was tearing all the bonds of society,

which the experience of mankind had taught them were necessary to

the mutual convenience of all; and no provision, no security, was

made for those who were levelled, and who, though they enjoyed

what they had by the old constitution, were treated, or were

exposed to be treated, as criminals. They have been treated so:

several have been butchered; and the National Assembly dare not

avenge them, as they should lose the favour of the intoxicated

populace. That conduct was senseless, or worse. With no less

folly did they seek to expect that a vast body of men, more

enlightened, at least, than the gross multitude, would sit down

in patience under persecution and deprivation of all they valued;

I mean the nobility and clergy, who might be stunned, but Were

sure of reviving and of burning with vengeance. The insult was

the greater, as the subsequent conduct of the National Assembly

has proved more shamefully dishonest, in their paying themselves

daily more than two-thirds of them ever saw perhaps in a month;

and that flagitious self-bestowed stipend, as it is void of all

patriotic integrity, will destroy their power too; for, if

constitution-making is so lucrative a trade, others will wish to

share in the plunder of their country too; and, even without a

civil war, I am persuaded the present Assembly will neither be

septennial, nor even triennial.

(701) Now first collected.

Letter 356 To The Miss Berrys.

Sunday, Oct. 10, 1790, The day of your departure. (page 455)

Is it possible to write to my beloved friends, and refrain from

speaking of my grief for losing you; though it is but the

continuation of what I have felt ever since I was stunned by your

intention Of going abroad this autumn? Still I will not tire YOU

With it Often. In happy days I smiled, and called you my dear

wives--now I can only think on you as darling children of whom I

am bereaved! As such I have loved and do love You; and, charming

as you both are, I have had no Occasion to remind myself that I

am Past seventy-three. Your hearts, your understandings, your

virtues, and the cruel injustice of your fate,(702) have

interested me in every thing that concerns you; and so far from

having occasion to blush for any unbecoming weakness, I am proud

of my affection for you, and very proud of your condescending to

pass so many hours with a very old man, when every body admires

you, and the most insensible allow that your good sense and

information (I speak of both) have formed you to Converse with

the most intelligent of our sex as well as your own; and neither

can tax you with airs of pretension or affectation. Your

simplicity and natural ease set off all your other merits-all

these graces are lost to me, alas! when I have no time to lose.

Sensible as I am to my loss, it will occupy but part of my

thoughts, till I know you are safely landed, and arrived safely

at Turin. Not till you are there, and I learn so, will my

anxiety subside, and settle into steady, selfish sorrow. I

looked at every weathercock as I came along the road to-day, and

was happy to see every one point northeast. May they do so

to-morrow!

I found here the frame for Wolsey, and to-morrow morning Kirgate

will place him in it; and then I shall begin pulling the little

parlour to pieces, that it may be hung anew to receive him. I

have also obeyed Miss Agnes, though with regret; for, on trying

it, I found her Arcadia(703) would fit the place of the picture

she condemns, which shall therefore be hung in its room; though

the latter should give Way to nothing else, nor shall be laid

aside, but shall hang where I shall see it almost as often. I

long to hear that its dear paintress is well; I thought her not

at all so last night. You will tell me the truth, though she in

her own case, and in that alone, allows herself mental

reservation.

Forgive me for writing nothing to-night but about you two and

myself. Of what can I have thought else? I have not spoken to a

single person but my own servants since we parted last night.

I found a message here from Miss Howe(704) to invite me for this

evening--do you think I have not preferred staying at home to

write to you, as this Must go to London to-morrow morning by the

coach to be ready for Tuesday's post! My future letters shall

talk of other things, whenever I know any thing worth repeating;

or perhaps any trifle, for I am determined to forbid myself

lamentations that would weary you; and the frequency of my

letters will prove there is no forgetfulness. If I live to see

you again, you will then judge whether I am changed; but a

friendship so rational and so pure as mine is, and so equal for

both, is not likely to have any of the fickleness of youth, when

it has none of its other ingredients. It was a sweet consolation

to the short time that I may have left, to fall into such a

society; no wonder then that I am unhappy at that consolation

being abridged. I pique myself on no philosophy but what a long

use and knowledge of the world had given me-the philosophy of

indifference to most persons and events. I do pique myself on

not being ridiculous at this very late period of my life; but

when there is not a grain of passion in my affection for you two,

and when you both have the good sense not to be displeased at my

telling you so, (though I hope you would have despised me for the

contrary,) I am not ashamed to say that your loss is heavy to me;

and that I am only reconciled to it by hoping that a winter in

Italy, and the journeys and sea air, will be very beneficial to

two constitutions so delicate as yours. Adieu! my dearest

friends it would be tautology to subscribe a name to a letter,

every line of which would suit no other man in the world but the

writer.

(702) This alludes to Miss Berry's father having been

disinherited by an uncle, to whom he was heir at law, and a large

property left to his younger brother.-M.B.

(703) A drawing by Miss Agnes Berry.

(704) Julia Howe, an unmarried sister of Admiral Earl Howe, who

lived at Richmond.

Letter 357 To The Miss Berrys.

Sunday, Oct. 31, 1790. (page 457)

Perhaps I am unreasonably impatient, and expect letters before

they can come. I expected a letter from Lyons three days ago,

though Mrs. Damer told me I should not have one till to-morrow.

I have got one to-day; but alas! from Pougues only, eleven and a

half posts short of Lyons! Oh! may Mrs. Damer prove in the right

to-morrow! Well! I must be happy for the past; and that you had

such delightful weather, and but one little accident to your

carriage. We have had equal summer till Wednesday last, when it

blew a hurricane. I said to it, "Blow, blow, thou winter wind, I

don't mind you now!" but I have not forgotten Tuesday the 12th;

and now I hope it will be as calm as it is to-day on Wednesday

next, when Mrs. Damer is to sail.(705) I was in town on Thursday

and Friday, and so were her parents, to take our leaves; as we

did on Friday night, supping all at Richmond-house. She set out

yesterday morning, and I returned hither. I am glad you had the

amusement of seeing the National Assembly. Did Mr. Berry find it

quite so august as he intended it should be? Burke's pamphlet is

to appear to-morrow, and Calonne has published a thumping one of

four hundred and forty pages.(706) I have but begun it, for

there is such a quantity of calculations, and one is forced to

bait so often to boil milliards of livres down to a rob of pounds

sterling, that my head is only filled with figures instead of

arguments, and I understand arithmetic less than logic.

Our war still hangs by a hair, they say; and that this

approaching week must terminate its fluctuations. Brabant, I am

told, is to be pacified by negotiations at the Hague. Though I

talk like a newspaper, I do not assume their airs, nor give my

intelligence of any sort for authentic, unless when the Gazette

endorses the articles. Thus, Lord Louvain is made Earl of

Beverley, and Lord Earl of Digby; but in no Gazette, though still

in the Songs of Sion, do I find that Miss Gunning is a

marchioness. It is not that I suppose you care who gains a step

in the aristocracy; but I tell you these trifles to keep you au

courant, and that at your return you may not make only a baronial

curtsey, when it should be lower by two rows of ermine to some

new-hatched countess. This is all the, news-market furnishes.

Your description of the National Assembly and of the Champ de

Mars were both admirable; but the altar of boards and canvass

seems a type of their perishable constitution, as their

air-balloons were before. French visions are generally full of

vapour, and terminate accordingly. I have been at Mrs.

Grenville's(707) this evening, who had a small party for the

Duchess of Gloucester: there were many inquiries after my wives.

(705) Mrs. Damer was going to pass the winter at Lisbon, on

account of her health.

(706) This was his "Lettre sur l'`Etat de la France, pr`esent et

`a venir;" of which a translation appeared in the following

year.-E.

(707) Margaret Banks, widow Of the Hon. Henry Grenville, who died

in 1784. Their only daughter was married, in 1781, to Viscount

Mahon, afterwards Earl Stanhope.

Letter 358 To The Miss Berrys

Park-place, Nov. 8, 1790. (page 458)

No letter since Pougues! I think you can guess how uneasy I am!

It is not the fault of the wind; which has blown from every

quarter. To-day I cannot hear, for no post comes in on Mondays.

What can have occasioned my receiving no letters from Lyons,

when, on the 18th of last month, you were within twelve posts of

it? I am now sorry I came hither, lest by change of place a

letter may have shuttlecocked about, and not have known where to

find me; and yet I left orders with Kirgate to send it after me,

if one came to Strawberry on Saturday. I return thither

to-morrow, but not till after the post is come in here. I am

writing to you now, while the company are walked out, to divert

my impatience; which, however, is but a bad recipe, and not

exactly the way to put YOU Out Of my head.

The first and great piece of news is the pacification with Spain.

The courier arrived on Thursday morning with a most acquiescent

answer to our ultimatum: what that was I do not know, nor much

care. Peace contents me, and for my part I shall not haggle

about the terms. I have a good general digestion, and it is not

a small matter that will lie at my stomach when I have no hand in

dressing the ingredients.

The pacification of Brabant is likely to be volume the second.

The Emperor, and their majesties of Great Britain and Prussia,

and his Serene Highness the Republic of Holland have sent a card

to his turbulent Lowness of Brabant, and* they allow him but

three weeks to submit to his old sovereign: on promise of a

general pardon -or the choice of threescore thousand men ready to

march without a pardon.

The third volume, expected, but not yet in the press, is a

counterrevolution in France. Of that I know nothing but rumour;

yet it certainly is not the most incredible event that rumour

ever foretold. In this country the stock of the National

Assembly IS fallen down to bankruptcy. Their only renegade,

aristocrat Earl Stanhope, has, with D. W. Russel, scratched his

name out of the Revolution Club; but the fatal blow has been at

last given by Mr. Burke. His pamphlet(708) came out this day

se'nnight, and is far superior to what was expected, even by his

warmest admirers. I have read it twice; and though of three

hundred and fifty pages, I wish I could repeat every page by

heart. It is sublime, profound, and gay. The wit and satire are

equally brilliant; and the whole is wise, though in some points

he goes too far: yet in general there is far less want of

judgment than could be expected from him. If it could be

translated,--which, from the wit and metaphors and allusions, is

almost impossible,--I should think it would be a classic book in

all countries, except in present France.(709) To their tribunes

it speaks daggers though, unlike them, it uses none. Seven

thousand copies have been taken off by the booksellers already,

and a new edition is preparing. I hope you will see it soon.

There ends my gazette.

There is nobody here at present but Mrs. Hervey, Mrs. E. Hervey,

and Mrs. Cotton: but what did I find on Saturday? Why, the

Prince of Furstemberg,(710) his son, and son's governor! I was

ready to turn about and go back: but they really proved not at

all unpleasant. The ambassador has not the least German

stiffness or hauteur; is extremely civil, and so domestic a man,

that he talked comfortably of his wife and eight children, and of

his fondness for them. He understands English, though he does

not speak it. The son, a good-humoured lad of fifteen, seems

well-informed: the governor, a middle-aged officer, speaks

English so perfectly, that even by his accent I should not have

discovered him for a foreigner. They stayed all night, and went

to Oxford next morning before I rose.

November 9th, at night.

This morning, before I left Park-place, I had the relief and joy

of receiving your letter of October 24, from Lyons. It would

have been still more welcome, if dated from Turin; but, as you

have met with no impediments so far, I trust you got out of

France as well as through it. I do hope, too, that Miss Agnes is

better, as you say; but when one is very anxious about a person,

credulity does not take long strides in proportion. I am not

surprised at your finding voiturins, or any body, or any thing,

dearer: where all credit and all control are swept away, every

man will be a tyrant in proportion to his necessities and his

strength. Societies were invented to temperate force: but it

seems force was liberty, and much good may it do the French with

being delivered from every thing but violence!--which I believe

they will soon taste pro and con.! You may make me smile by

desiring me to continue my affection. Have I so much time left

for inconstancy? For threescore years and ten I have not been

very fickle in my friendship: in all these years I never found

such a pair as you and your sister. Should I meet with a

superior pair,-but they must not be deficient in any one of the

qualities which I find in you two,-why, Perhaps, I may change;

but, with that double mortgage on my affections, I do not think

you are in much danger of losing them. You shall have timely

notice if a second couple drops out of the clouds and falls in my

way.

(708) The far-famed "Reflections on the Revolution in France;" of

which about thirty thousand copies were sold in a comparatively

short space of time.-E.

(709) A French translation, by M. Dupont, shortly after made its

appearance, and spread the reputation of the work over all

Europe. The Emperor of Germany, Catherine of Russia, and the

French Princes transmitted to Mr. Burke their warm approbation of

it, and the unfortunate Stanislaus of Poland sent him his

likeness on a gold medal.-E.

(710) The Landgrave of Furstemberg had been sent from the Emperor

Leopold to notify his being elected King of the Romans, and his

subsequent coronation as Emperor of Germany.-E.

Letter 359 To Miss Berry.

November 11, 1790. (page 460)

I had a letter from Mrs. Damer at Falmouth. She suffered much by

cold and fatigue, and probably sailed on Saturday evening last,

and may be at Lisbon by this time, as you, I trust, are in Italy.

Mr. Burke's pamphlet has quite turned Dr. Price's head. He got

upon a table at their club, toasted to our Parliament becoming a

National Assembly, and to admitting no more peers of their

assembly, having lost the only one they had. They themselves are

very like the French `Etats: two more members got on the table

(their pulpit), and broke it down: so be it!

The Marquisate(711) is just where it was--to be and not to be.

The Duchess of Argyll is said to be worse. Della Crusca(712) has

published a poem, called "The Laurel of Liberty," which, like the

Enrag`es, has confounded and overturned all ideas. There are

gossamery tears and silky oceans--the first time, to be sure,

that any body ever cried cobwebs, or that the sea was made of

paduasoy.(713) There is, besides, a violent tirade against a

considerable personage, who, it is supposed, the author was

jealous of, as too much favoured a few years ago by a certain

Countess. You may guess why I am not more explicit: for the same

reason I beg YOU not to mention it at all; it would be

exceedingly improper. As the Parliament will meet in a

fortnight, and the town be plumper, my letters may grow more

amusing; though, unless the weather grows worse, I shall not

contribute my leanness to its embonpoint. Adieu!

(711) Meaning the reported marriage of Miss Gunning to the

Marquis of Blandford.-B.

(712) Robert Merry, Esq. who, at this time, wrote in the

newspapers under this signature, and thereby became the object of

the caustic satire of the author of the Baviad and Maviad--

"Lo, Della Crusca in his closet pent,

He toils to give the crude conception vent

Abortive thoughts, that right and wrong confound,

Truth sacrific'd to letters, sense to sound;

False glare, incongruous images combine,

And noise and nonsense chatter through the line."-E.

(713) Besides the above, Mr. Gifford instances, from the same

poem, "moody monarchs, radiant rivers, cooling cataracts, lazy

Loires, gay Garonnes, glossy glass, mingling murder, dauntless

day, lettered lightnings, delicious dilatings, sinking sorrows,

real reasoning, meliorating mercies, dewy vapours damp that sweep

the silent swamps, etc. etc."-E.

Letter 360 To The Miss Berrys.

Strawberry Hill, Thursday, Nov. 18, 1790. (page 461)

On Tuesday morning, after my letter was gone to the post, I

received yours of the 2d (as I have all the rest) from Turin, and

it gave me very little of the joy I had so much meditated to

receive from a letter thence. And why did not it?-because I had

got one on Saturday, which anticipated and augmented all the

satisfaction I had allotted for Turin. You will find my

Tuesday's letter, if ever you receive it, intoxicated with

Chamberry; for which, and all your kind punctuality, I give you a

million of thanks. But how cruel to find that you found none of

my letters at Turin! There ought to have been two at least, of

October the 16th and 19th. I have since directed one thither of

the 25th; but alas! from ignorance, there was par Paris on none

of them; and the Lord knows at how many little German courts they

may have been baiting! I shall put par Paris on this; but beg you

will tell me, as soon as you can, which route is the shortest and

the safest; that is, by which you are most likely to receive

them. You do me justice in concluding there has been no

negligence of mine in the case; indeed, I have been ashamed of

the multiplicity of my letters, when I had scarce any thing to

tell you but

my own anxiety to hear of your being quietly settled at Florence,

out of the reach of all commotions. And how could I but dread

your being molested by some accident, in the present state of

France! and how could your healths mend in bad inns, and till you

can repose somewhere? Repose you will have at Florence, but I

shall fear the winter for you there: I suffered more by cold

there, than by any place in my life; and never came home at night

without a pain in my breast, which I never felt elsewhere, yet

then I was very young and in perfect health. If either of you

suffer there in any shape, I hope you will retire to Pisa.

My inquietude, that presented so many alarms to me before you set

out, has, I find, and am grieved for it, not been quite in the

Wrong. Some inconveniences I am persuaded you have sunk: yet the

difficulty of landing at Dieppe, and the ransack of your poor

harmless trunks at Bourgoin, and the wretched lodgings with which

you were forced to take up at Turin, count deeply with me: and I

had much rather have lost all credit as a prophet, since I could

not prevent your journey. May it answer for your healths! I

doubt it will not in any other respect, as you have already found

by the voiturins. In point of pleasure, is it possible to divest

myself so radically of all self-love as to wish you may find

Italy as agreeable as you di formerly? In all other lights, I do

most fervently hope there will he no drawbacks on your plan.

Should you be disappointed in any way, you know what a warm heart

is open to receive you back; and so will your own Cliveden(714)

be too.

I am glad you met the Bishop of Arras,(715) and am much pleased

that he remembers me. I saw him very frequently at my dear old

friend's,.(716) and liked him the best of all Frenchmen I ever

knew. He is extremely sensible, easy, lively, and void of

prejudices. Should he fall in your way again, I beg you will

tell him how sincere a regard I have for him. He lived in the

strictest union with his brother, the Archbishop of Tours, whom I

was much less acquainted with, nor know if he be living.

I have heard nothing since my Tuesday's letter. As I still hope

its predecessors will reach you, I will not repeat the trifling

scraps of news I have sent you in them. In fact, this is only a

trial whether par Paris is a better passport than a direction

without it; but I am grievously sorry to find difficulty of

correspondence superadded to the vexation of losing you. Writing

to you was grown my chief occupation. I wish. Europe and its

broils were in the East Indies, if they embarrass us quiet folks,

who have nothing to do with their squabbles. The Duchess of

Gloucester, who called on me yesterday, charged me to give her

compliments to you both. Miss Foldson(717) has not yet sent me

your pictures: I was in town on Monday, and sent to reproach her

with having twice broken her promise; her mother told my servant

that Miss was at Windsor, drawing the Queen and Princesses. That

is not the work of a Moment. I am glad all the Princes are not

on the spot.

I think of continuing here till the weather grows very bad; which

it has not been at all yet, though not equal to what I am

rejoiced you have found. I have no Somerset or Audley-street to

receive me: Mrs. Damer is gone too. The Conways remain at

Park-place till after Christmas; It is entirely out of fashion

for women to grow old and stay at home in an evening. They

invite you, indeed, now and then, but do not expect to see you

till near midnight; which is rather too late to begin the day,

unless one was born but twenty years ago. I do not condemn any

fashions, which the young ought to set, for the old certainly

ought not; but an oak that has been going on in its old way for

an hundred years, cannot shoot into a May-pole in three years,

because it is the mode to plant Lombardy poplars.

What I should have suffered, if your letters, like mine, had

wandered through Germany! I, you was sure, had written, and was

in no danger. Dr. Price, who had whetted his ancient talons last

year to no purpose, has had them all drawn by Burke, and the

Revolution Club is as much exploded as the Cock-lane Ghost; but

you, in order to pass a quiet winter in Italy, would pass through

a fiery furnace. Fortunately, you have not been singed, and the

letter from Chamberry has composed all my panics, but has by no

means convinced me that I was not perfectly in the right to

endeavour to keep you at home. One does not put one's hand in

the fire to burn off a hangnail; and, though health is

delightful, neither of you were out of order enough to make a

rash experiment. I Would not be so absurd as to revert to old

arguments, that happily proved no prophecies, if my great anxiety

about you did not wish, in time, to persuade you to return

through Switzerland and Flanders, if the latter is pacified and

France is not; of which I see no likelihood.

Pray forgive me, if parts of my letters are sometimes tiresome;

but can I appear only always cheerful when you two are absent,

and have another long journey to make, ay, and the sea to cross

again? My fears cannot go to sleep like a paroli at faro till

there is a new deal, in which even then I should not be sure of

winning. If I see you again, I will think I have gained another

milleleva, as I literally once did; with this exception, that I

was vehemently against risking a doit at the game of travelling.

Adieu!

(714) Little Strawberry Hill, which he had then thus named.

(715) M. de Conzies. This amiable prelate declined, in 1801, the

Parisian archiepiscopacy, proffered him by Buonaparte, and died

in London, in December 1804, in the arms of Monsieur, afterwards

Charles the Tenth.-E.

(716) Madame du Deffand.

)717 Afterwards Mrs. Mee.

Letter 361 To The Miss Berrys.

Strawberry Hill, Friday night, Nov. 27, 1790. (page 463)

I am waiting for a letter from Florence, not with perfect

patience, though I could barely have one, even if you did arrive,

as you intended, on the 12th; but twenty temptations might have

occurred to detain you in that land of eye and ear sight; my

chief eagerness is to learn that you have received at least some

of my letters. I wish too to know, though I cannot yet, whether

you would have me direct Par Paris, or as I did before. In this

state of uncertainty I did not prepare this to depart this

morning; nor, though the Parliament met yesterday, have I a

syllable of news for you, as there will be no debate till all the

members have been sworn, which takes two or three days.

Moreover, I am still here: the weather, though very rainy, is

quite warm; and I have much more agreeable society at Richmond,

with small companies and better hours, than in town, and shall

have till after Christmas, unless great cold drives me thither.

Lady Di, Selwyn, the Penns, the Onslows, Douglases, Mackinsys,

Keenes, Lady Mount-Edgcumbe, all stay, and Some of them meet

every evening. The Boufflers too are constantly invited, and the

Comtesse Emilie sometimes carries her harp, on which they say she

plays better than Orpheus; but as I never heard him on earth, nor

chez Proserpine, I do not pretend to decide. Lord

Fitzwilliam(718) has been here too; but was in the utmost danger

of being lost on Saturday night, in a violent storm between

Calais and Dover, as the captain confessed to him when they were

landed. Do you think I did not ache at the recollection of a

certain Tuesday when you were sailing to Dieppe?

(718) Richard, seventh and last Viscount Fitzwilliam, the

munificent benefactor to the University of Cambridge. He died in

1816.-E.

Letter 362 To Miss Agnes Berry.

Strawberry Hill, Sunday, Nov. 29, 1790. (page 464)

Though I write to both at once, and reckon your letters to come

equally from both, yet I delight in seeing your hand with a pen

as well as with a pencil, and you express yourself as well with

the one as with the other. Your part in that which I have been

so happy as to receive this moment, has singularly obliged me, by

your having saved me the terror of knowing you had a torrent to

cross after heavy rain. No cat is so afraid of water for

herself, as I am grown to be for you. That panic, which will

last for many months, adds to my fervent desire of your returning

early in the autumn, that you may have neither fresh water nor

the "silky" ocean to cross in winter. Precious as our insular

situation is, I am ready to wish with the Frenchman, that you

could somehow or other get to it by land,-- Oui, c'est une isle

toujours, je le sais bien; mais, par exemple, en allant

d'alentour, n'y auroit-il pas moyen d'y arriver par terre?"

Correggio never pleased me in proportion to his fame; his grace

touches upon grimace; the mouth of the beautiful Angel at Parma

curls up almost into a half-moon. Still I prefer Corregio to the

lourd want of grace in Guereino, who is to me a German edition of

Guido. I am sorry the bookseller would not let you have an

Otranto. Edwards told me, above two months ago, that he every

day expected the whole impression; and he has never mentioned it

waiting for my corrections. I will make Kirgate write to him,

for I have told you that I am still here. We have had much rain,

but no flood; and yesterday and to-day have exhibited Florentine

skies.

>From town I know nothing; but that on Friday, after the King's

speech, Earl Stanhope made a most frantic speech on the National

Assembly and against Calonne's book, which he wanted to have

taken up for high treason.(719) He was every minute interrupted

by loud bursts of laughter; which was all the answer he received

or deserved. His suffragan Price has published a short, sneaking

equivocal answer to Burke, in which he pretends his triumph over

the King of France alluded to July, not to October, though his

sermon was preached in November. Gredat--but not Judaeus Apella,

as Mr. Burke so wittily says of the assignats.(720) Mr.

Grenville, the secretary of state, is made a peer, they say to

assist the Chancellor in the House of Lords: yet the papers

pretend the Chancellor is out of humour, and will resign the

first may be true, the latter probably not.(721)

Richmond, my metropolis, flourishes exceedingly. The Duke of

Clarence arrived at his palace there last night, between eleven

and twelve, as I came from Lady Douglas. His eldest brother and

Mrs. Fitzherbert dine there to-day with the Duke Of Queensbury,

as his grace, who called here this morning, told me, on the very

spot where lived Charles the First, and where are the portraits

of his principal courtiers from Cornbury. Queensbury has taken

to that palace at last, and has frequently company and music

there in an evening. I intend to go.

I suppose none of my Florentine acquaintance are still upon

earth. The handsomest woman there, of my days, was a Madame

Grifoni, my fair Geraldine: she would now be a Methusalemess, and

much more like a frightful picture I have of her by a one-eyed

German painter. I lived then with Sir Horace Mann, in Casa

Mannetti in Via de' Santi Apostoli, by the Ponte di Trinit`a.

Pray, worship the works of Masaccio, if any remain; though I

think the best have been burnt in a church. Raphael himself

borrowed from him. Fra Bartolomeo, too, is one of my standards

for great ideas; and Benvenuto Cellini's Perseus a rival of the

antique, though Mrs. Damer will not allow it. Over against the

Perseus is a beautiful small front of a house, with only three

windows, designed by Raphael; and another, I think, near the

Porta San Gallo, and I believe called Casa Panciatici or

Pandolfini.

(719) in the report of Lord Stanbope's speech, as it is given in

the Parliamentary History, there is no expression of a wish that

M. Calonne should be ,taken up for high treason." What the noble

Earl said was, that the assertion that a civil war would meet

with the support of all the crowned heads in Europe was a

scandalous libel on the King of England, and might endanger the

lives of many natives of Scotland and Ireland then residing in

France.-E.

(720) "The Assembly made in their speeches a sort of swaggering

declaration, something, I rather think, above legislative

competence; that is, that there is no difference in value between

metallic money and their assignats. This was a good, stout proof

article of faith, pronounced under an anathema, by the venerable

fathers of this philosophic synod. Gredat who will certainly not

Judaeus Apella."-E.

(721) In Mr. Wilberforce's Diary for this year there appears the

following entry:-"Nov- 22. Dined with Mr. Pitt. He told me of

Grenville's peerage and the true reasons--distrust of Lord

Thurlow. Saw Thurlow's answer to the news. Gave Pitt a serious

word or two." See Life, vol. i. p. 284.-E.

Letter 363 To The Miss Berrys.

Strawberry Hill, Dec. 20, 1790; very late at night. (page 465)

The French packet that was said to be lost on Tuesday last, and

which did hang out signals of distress, was saved, but did not

bring any letters; but three Flemish mails that were due are

arrived, and did bring letters, and, to my inexpressible joy, two

from you of the 22d and 29th of the last month, telling Me that

you have received as far as No. 4 and 5 of mine. Thank all the

stars in Herschell's telescope, or beyond its reach, that our

correspondence is out of the reach of France and all its ravages!

Thank you a million of times for all your details about

yourselves When even the apprehension of any danger disquiets me

so much, judge whether I do not interest myself in every

particular of your pleasures and amusements! Florence was my

delight, as it is yours but, I don't know how, I wish you did not

like it quite so much and, after the gallery. how will any

silver-penny of a gallery look? Indeed, for your Boboli, which I

thought horrible even fifty years ago, before shepherds had seen

the star of taste in the west, and glad tidings were proclaimed

to their flocks, I do think there is not an acre on the banks of

the Thames that should vail the bonnet to it.

Of Mr. Burke's book, if I have not yet told you my opinion, I do

now: that it is one of the finest compositions in print. There

is reason, logic, wit, truth. eloquence, and enthusiasm in the

brightest colours. That it has given a mortal stab to sedition,

I believe and hope; because the fury of the Brabanters,-whom,

however, as having been aggrieved, I pitied and distinguish

totally from the savage Gauls, -and the unmitigated and execrable

injustices of the latter, have made almost any state preferable

to such anarchy and desolation, that increases every day.

Admiring thus, as I do, I am very far from subscribing to the

extent of almost all Mr. Burke's principles. The work, I have no

doubt, will hereafter be applied to support very high doctrines;

and to you I will say, that I think it an Apocrypha, that, in

many a council of Bishops, will be added to the Old Testament.

Still, such an Almanzor was wanting at this crisis; and his foes

show how deeply they are wounded, by their abusive pamphlets.

Their Amazonian allies, headed by Kate Macaulay(722) and the

virago Barbauld, whom Mr. Burke calls our poissardes, spit their

rage at eighteenpence a head, and will return to Fleet-ditch,

more fortunate in being forgotten than their predecessors,

immortalized in the Dunciad. I must now bid you good-night; and

night it is, to the tune of morning. Adieu, all three!

(722) A pamphlet, entitled "Observations on the Reflections of

the Right Hon. Edmund Burke on the Revolution in France; in a

Letter to Earl Stanhope," was attributed to Mrs. Macaulay.-E.

Letter 364 To Miss Berry.

Berkeley Square, Saturday, Jan. 22, 1791. (page 466)

I have been most unwillingly forced to send you such bad accounts

of myself by my two last letters; but, as I could not conceal

all, it was best to tell you the whole truth. Though I do not

know that there was any real danger, I could not be so blind to

my own age and weakness as not to think that, with so much gout

an fever, the conclusion might very probably be fatal: and

therefore it was better

you should be prepared for what might happen. The danger appears

to be entirely over: there seems to be no more gout to come. I

have no fever, have a very good appetite, and sleep well. Mr.

Watson,(723) who is all tenderness and attention, is persuaded

to-day that I shall recover the use of my left hand ; of which I

despaired much more than of the right, as having been seized

three weeks earlier. Emaciated and altered I am incredibly, as

you would find were you ever to see me again. But this illness

has dispelled all visions ; and, as I have little prospect of

passing another happy autumn, I Must wean myself from whatever

would embitter my remaining time by disappointments.

Your No. 15 came two days ago, and gives me the pleasure of

knowing that you both are the better for riding, which I hope you

will continue. I am glad, too, that you are pleased with your

Duchess of Fleury and your Latin professor: but I own, except

your climate and the six hundred camels, you seem to me to have

met with no treasure which you might not have found here without

going twenty miles: and even the camels, according to Soame

Jenyns' spelling, were to be had from Carrick and other places.

I doubt you apply Tully de Amicitia too favourably: at least, I

fear there is no paragraph that countenances 73 and 27.

Monday, the 24th.

I think I shall give you pleasure by telling you that I am very

sure now of recovering from the present fit. It has almost

always happened to me, in my considerable fits of the gout, to

have one critical night that celebrates its departure: at the end

of two different fits I each time slept eleven hours. Morpheus

is not quite so young nor so generous now ; but, with the

interruption of a few minutes, he presented me with eight hours

last night: and thence I shall date my recovery. I shall now

begin to let in a little company; and, as the Parliament will

meet in a week, my letters will probably not be so dull as they

have been; nor shall I have occasion, nor be obliged, to talk so

much of myself, of which I am sure others must be tired, when I

am so much tired myself.

Tuesday, the 25th.

Old Mrs. French(724) is dead at last, and I am on the point of

losing, or have lost, my oldest acquaintance and friend, George

Selwyn, who was yesterday at the extremity. These misfortunes,

though they can be so but for a short time, are very sensible to

the old; but him I really loved, not only for his infinite wit,

but for a thousand good qualities. Lady Cecilia Johnstone was

here yesterday. I said much for you, and she as much to you.

The Gunnings are still playing the fool, and perhaps somebody

with them; but I cannot tell you the particulars now. Adieu!

(723) His surgeon.

(724) An Irish lady, who, during the latter part of her life, had

a country house at Hampton Court.

Letter 365 To The Miss Berrys.

Saturday, Jan. 29, 1791. (page 468)

Voici de ma propre `ecriture! the best proof that I am

recovering, though not rapidly, which is not the march of my time

of life. For n these last six days I have mended more than I

expected. My left hand, the first seized, is the most dilatory,

and of which I have least hopes. The rheumatism, that I thought

so clear and predominant, is so entirely gone, that I now rather

think it was hussar-gout attacking in flying squadrons the

outposts. No matter which, very ill I was ; and you might see

what I thought of myself: nor can I stand many such victories.

My countenance was so totally altered, that I could not trace it

myself. Its outlines have returned to their posts, though with

deep gaps. This is a true picture, and too long an one of self;

and too hideous for a bracelet. Apropos, your sweet Miss

Foldson, I believe, is painting portraits of all our Princesses,

to be sent to all the Princes upon earth ; for, though I have

sent her several written duns, she has not deigned even to answer

one in writing. I don't know whether Mrs. Buller is not

appointed Royal Academician too; for, though I desired the

"Charming-man," who was to dine with her that day, to tell her,

above a week ago, that I should be glad to see her, she has not

taken the least notice of it. Mr. Batt, ditto; who was at

Cambridge's when I was at the worst, and knew so, has not once

inquired after me, in town or country. So you see you have

carried off your friends from me as well as yourselves: and it is

not them I regret; or rather, in fact, I outlive all my friends!

Poor Selwyn is gone, to my sorrow; and no wonder Ucalegon feels

it!(725) He has left about thirty thousand pounds to

Mademoiselle Fagniani;(726) twenty of which, if she has no

children, to go to those of Lord Carlisle ; the Duke of

Queensberry residuary legatee. Old French has died as foolishly

as she lived, and left six thousand pounds to you don't know whom

; but to be raised out of her judicious collection of trumpery

pictures, etc.

Pray, delight in the following story: Caroline Vernon, fille

d'honneur, lost t'other night two hundred pounds at faro, and

babe Martindale mark it up. He said he had rather have a draft

on her banker. "oh! willingly;" and she gave him one. Next

morning he hurried to Drummond's, lest all her money should be

drawn out. said the clerk, "would you receive the contents

immediately?" "Assuredly." "why, Sir, have you read the note?"

Martindale took it; it was, "Pay to the bearer two hundred blows,

well applied." The nymph tells the story herself; and yet I think

the clerk had the more humour of the two.

The Gunninghiad(727) draws to a conclusion. The General, a few

weeks ago, to prove the equality of his daughter to any match,

literally put into the newspapers, that he himself is the

thirty-second descendant in a line from Charlemagne;--oui,

vraiment! Yet he had better have, like Prior's Madam,

"To cut things short, gone up to Adam,"

However, this Carlovingian hero does not allow that the letters

are forgeries, and rather suspects the novelist, his lady(728)

for the authoress; and if she is, probably Miss Charlemagne is

not quite innocent of the plot: though she still maintains that

her mother-in-law elect did give her much encouragement; which,

considering her grace's conduct about her children, is not the

most incredible part of this strange story. I have written this

at twice, and will now rest.

Sunday evening.

I wish that complaining of people for abandoning me were an

infallible receipt for bringing them back! but I doubt it will

not do in acute cases. To-day, a few hours after %writing the

latter part of this, appeared Mr. Batt. He asked many pardons,

and I easily forgave him; for the mortification was not begun.

He asked much after you both. I had a crowd of visits besides;

but they all come past two o'clock, and sweep one another away

before any can take root. My evenings are solitary enough, for I

ask nobody to come; nor, indeed, does any body's evening begin

till I am going to bed. I have Outlived daylight, as well as my

contemporaries. What have I not survived? The Jesuits and the

monarchy of France! and both without a struggle! Semiramis seems

to intend to add Constantinople to the mass of revolutions ; but

is not her permanence almost as wonderful as the contrary

explosions! I wish--I wish we may not be actually flippancying

ourselves into an embroil with that Ursa-major of the North Pole.

What a vixen little island are we, if we fight wit the Aurora

Borealis and Tippo Saib at the end of Asia at the same time!

You, damsels, will be like the end of the conundrum, "You've seen

the man who saw the wondrous sights."

Monday evening.

I cannot finish this with my own hand, for the gout has returned

a little into my right arm and wrist, and I am not quite so well

as I was yesterday; but I had said my say, and had little to add.

The Duchess of Gordon, t'other night, coming out of an assembly,

said to Dundas, "Mr. Dundas, you are used to speak in public;

will you call my servant?"

Here I receive your long letter of the 7th, 9th, and 10th, which

it is impossible for me to answer now; there is one part to which

I wish to reply, but must defer till next post, by which time I

hope to have recovered my own pen. You ask about the house of

Argyll. You know I have no connexion with them, nor any

curiosity about them. Their relations and mine have been in town

but four days, so I know little from them: Mrs. Grenville,

to-day, told me the Duke proposes to continue the same life he

used to lead, with a cribbage-table and his family. Every body

admires the youngest daughter's(729) person and understanding.

Adieu! I will begin to write again myself as soon as I can.

(725) This celebrated wit and amiable man died on the 25th of

January, in his seventy-second year. He was member for

Luggershall, surveyor-general of the crown lands, surveyor of the

meltings and clerk of the irons in the Mint; "and," add the

newspapers of the day, "receiver-general of wit and stray jokes."

The following tribute to his memory appeared at the time:--

"If this gay Fav'rite lost, they yet can live,

A tear to Selwyn let the Graces give!

With rapid kindness teach Oblivion's pall

O'er the sunk foibles of the man to fall

And fondly dictate to a faithful Muse

The prime distinction of the Friend they lose:--

'Twas Social Wit; which, never kindling strife,

Blazed in the small, sweet courtesies of life;

Those little sapphires round the diamond shone,

Lending soft radiance to the richer stone."-E.

(726) Married in 1798, to the Earl of Yarmouth; who, in 1822,

succeeded his father as third Marquis of Hertford.-E.

(727) Meaning the strange, imagined history Of a marriage

supposed to have been likely to take place between Miss Gunning

and the Marquis of Blandford.

(728) Mrs. Gunning was a Miss Minifie, of Fairwater,

Somersetshire, and, before her marriage, had published several

popular novels.-E.

(729) Lady Charlotte-Susan-Maria; married, first to Colonel John

Campbell of Islay and, secondly to the Rev. Mr. Bury.-E.

Letter 366 To Miss Berry.

Berkeley Square, Friday, Feb. 4, 1791. (page 470)

Last post I sent you as cheerful a letter, as I could, to

convince you that I was recovering. This will be less gay; not

because I have had a little return in both arms, but because I

have much more pain in my mind than in my limbs. I see and thank

you all for the kindness of your intention; but, as it has the

contrary effect from what you expect, I am forced, for my own

peace, to beseech you not to continue a manoeuvre that only

tantalizes and wounds me. In your last you put together many

friendly words to give me hopes of your return; but can I be' so

blind as not to see that they are vague words? Did you mean to

return in autumn, Would you not say so? would the most artful

arrangement of words be so kind as those few simple ones? In

fact, I have for some time seen how little you mean it; and, for

your sakes, I cease to desire it. The pleasure you expressed at

seeing Florence again, forgive me for saying, is the joy of sight

merely; for can a little Italian town, and wretched Italian

company, and travelling English lads and governors, be comparable

to the choice of the best company of so vast a capital as London,

unless you have taken an aversion to England? And your renewed

transports at a less and still more insipid town, Pisa! These

plainly told me your thoughts, which vague words cannot efface.

You then dropped that you could let your London house till next

Christmas, and then talked of a visit to Switzerland, and since

all this, Mrs. Damer has warned me not to expect YOU till next

Spring. I shall not; nor do I expect that next spring. I have

little expected this next! My dearest Madam, I allow all my folly

and Unreasonableness, and give them up and abandon them totally.

I have most impertinently and absurdly tried, for my own sake

merely, to exact from two young ladies, above forty years younger

than myself, a promise of sacrificing their rooted inclinations

to my whims and satisfaction. But my eyes are opened, my reason

is returned, I condemn myself; and I now make you but one

request, which is, that, though I am convinced it would be with

the most friendly and good-natured meaning possible, I do implore

you not to try to help me to delude myself any more. You never

know half the shock it gave me when I learned from Mr. Batt, what

you had concealed from me, your fixed resolution of going abroad

last October; and though I did in vain deprecate it,--your coming

to Twickenham in September, which I know, and from my inmost soul

believe, was from mere compassion and kindness to me,-yet it did

aggravate my parting with you.

I would not repeat all this, but to prevail with you, While I do

live, and while you do condescend to have any friendship for me,

never to let me deceive myself. I have no right to inquire into

your plans, views or designs; and never will question you more

about them. I shall deserve to be deluded if I do; but what you

do please to say to me, I beg may be frank. I am, in every

light, too weak to stand disappointment ow: I cannot be

disappointed. You have a firmness that nothing shakes; and,

therefore, it would be unjust to betray your good-nature into any

degree of insincerity. You do nothing that is not reasonable and

right; and I am conscious that you bore a thousand times more

from my self-love and vanity, than any other two persons but

yourselves would have supported with patience so long. Be

assured that what I say I think, feel, and mean; derange none of

your plans for me. I now wish you take no one step but What is

conformable to your views, interest and satisfaction. It would

hurt me to interfere with them -. I reproach myself with having

so ungenerously tried to lay you under any difficulties, and I

approve your resolution in adhering steadily to your point. Two

posts ago I hinted that I was weaning myself from the anxiety of

an attachment to two persons that must have been so uneasy to

them, and has ended so sorrowfully to myself but that anxiety I

restrict solely to the desire of your return: my friendship, had

I years to live, could not alter or be shaken; and there is no

kind of proof or instance of it that I will not give you both

while I have breath.

I have vented what I had at my heart, and feel relieved. Do not

take ill a word I have said. Be assured I can love you as much

as ever I did, and do; and though I am no longer so Unjust as to

prefer my own satisfaction to yours. Here I drop the subject;

before Tuesday, perhaps, I shall be able to talk on some other.

Monday, 7th.

Though the Parliament is met, and the town they say, full, I have

not heard a tittle of news of any sort; and yet my prison is a

coffeehouse in a morning, though I have been far from well this

whole week. Yesterday and Saturday the gout was so painful in my

right shoulder, that I could not stoop or turn round. To-day it

is in my left elbow, and, I doubt, coming into my right foot: in

short, it seems to be going its circle over again. I am not very

sorry; sufferings reconcile one to parting with one's self.

One of our numerous tempests threw down Mrs. Damer's chimney last

week, and it fell through her workshop; but fortunately touched

none of her own works, and only broke two or three insignificant

casts. I suppose you know she returns through Spain. This

minute I have heard that Lord Lothian's daughter, Lady Mary St.

John, and daughter-in-law of Lady Di Beauclerc, died yesterday,

having been delivered of a fine boy but the day before. As you

are curious to know the chief topic of conversation, it is the

rival Opera-houses, neither of which are opened yet; both saying

the other is fallen down. Taylor has published a pamphlet that

does not prove that the Marquis(730) is the most upright

Chamberlain that ever dropped from the skies, nor that the skies

are quite true blue. Adieu! if no postscript tomorrow. None.

(730) of Salisbury.

Letter 367 To Miss Berry.

Berkeley Square, Feb. 12, 1791. (page 472)

I have received your two letters of January 17th and 24th with an

account of your objects and plans; and the latter are very much

what I expected, as before you receive this you will have seen by

my last, No. 18. Indeed, you most kindly offer to break SO far

into your plan, as to return at the beginning of next winter; but

as that would, as you say, not only be a sacrifice, but risk your

healths, can any thing upon earth be more impossible than for me

to accept or consent to such a sacrifice? Were I even in love

with one of you, could I agree to it? and, being only a most

zealous friend, do you think I will hear of it? Should I be a

friend at all, if I wished you, for my sake, to travel in winter

over mountains, or risk the storms at sea, that I have not

forgotten when you went away? Can I desire you to derange a

reasonable plan of economy, that would put you quite at your ease

at your return? Have I any pretensions for expecting, still less

for asking, such or any sacrifices? Have I interested myself in

your affairs only to embarrass them?

I do, in the most. Positive and solemn manner, refuse to accept

the smallest Sacrifice of any part of your plan, but the single

point that would be so hard on me. I will not say a word more on

your return, and beg your pardon for having been so selfish as to

desire it: my only request now is, that we may say no more about

it. I am grieved that the great distance we are at must make me

still receive letters about it for some weeks. I shall not

forget how very unreasonable I have been myself; nor shall I try

to forget it, lest I should be silly again: but I earnestly

desire to be totally silent on a subject that I have totally

abandoned, and which it is not at all improbable I may never have

occasion to renew.

I knew the Comte de Coigny(731) in the year 1766: he was then

lively and jovial. I did not think he would turn out a writer,

or even reader; but he was agreeable. I say nothing on France-

you must know as much as I do, and probably sooner. I will only

tell you, that my opinion is not altered in a tittle. What will

happen I do not pretend to guess; but am thoroughly persuaded

that the present system, if it can be called so, cannot take

root. The flirts towards anarchy here have no effect at all.

Horne Tooke before Christmas presented a saucy libel to the House

of Commons, as a petition on his election. The House

contemptuously voted it only frivolous and vexatious, and

disappointed him of a ray of martyrdom; but his fees, etc. will

cost him three or four hundred pounds, which never go into a

mob's calculation of the ingredients of martyrdom.(732)

Monday morning, 14th.

I have a story to tell you, much too long to add to this; which I

will send next post, unless I have leisure enough to-day, from

people that call on me to finish it to-day, having begun it last

night; and in that case I will direct it to Miss Agnes. Mr.

Lysons the clergyman has just been here, and told me of a Welsh

sportsman, a Jacobite, I suppose, who has very recently had his

daughter christened Louisa Victoria Maria Sobieski Foxhunter Moll

Boycot. The curate of the minister who baptized her confirmed

the truth of it to Mr. Lysons. When Belgiojoso, the Austrian

minister, was here, and thought he could write English, he sent a

letter to Miss Kennedy, a woman of the town, that began, "My

Kennedy Polly dear girl." Apropos--and not much--pray tell me

whether the Cardinal of York calls himself King; and whether

James the Eighth, Charles the Fourth, or what?

(731) a Great-uncle of the present Duc de Coigny.

(732) On the 5th of February, the committee appointed to try the

merits of the petition, reported it to be frivolous and

vexatious. Mr. Burke urged the necessity of taking some step

against the author of it: but the subject was got rid of by a

motion for the order of the day.-E.

Letter 368 To Miss Agnes Berry.

Feb. 13, 1791. (page 474)

The following narrative, though only the termination of a legend

of 'which you know the foregoing chapters, is too singular and

too long to be added to my letter; and therefore, though you will

receive two by the same post, you will not repine. In short, the

Gunninghiad is completed--not by a marriage, like other novels of

the Minifies.(733)

Voici how the d`enouement happened. Another supposed love-letter

had come from the Marquis(734) within these few weeks; which was

so improbable, that it raised more suspicions, and was more

closely examined; and thence was discovered to have been both

altered and interlined. On this the General sent all the letters

down to the Marquis;(735) desiring to be certified of their

authenticity, or the contrary. I should tell you, that all this

has happened since the death of is sister; who kept up the high

tone, and said, her brother was not a man to be trifled with.

The Marquis immediately distinguished the two kinds; owned the

few letters that disclaimed all inclination for Miss Charlemagne,

disavowed the rest. Thence fell the General's wrath on his

consort; of which I have told you.

However, the General and his ducal brother-in-law thought it

expedient that Miss Charly's character should be cleared as far

as possible; she still maintaining the prodigious encouragement

she had received from the parents of her intended sposo. She was

ordered to draw up a narrative, which should be laid before the

Duke of Marlborough; and, if allowed by him, to be shown for her

vindication. She obeyed; and her former assertions did not

suffer by the new statement. But one singular circumstance was

added: she confessed--ingenuous maid!--that, though she had not

been able to resist so dazzling an offer, her heart was still her

cousin's, the other Marquis.(736)

Well! this narrative, after being laid before a confidential

junto at Argyll-house, was sent to Blenheim by the General, by

his own groom. Judge of the astonishment of the junto, when

Carloman, almost as soon as was possible, laid before them a

short letter from the Prince of Mindleheim(737) declaring how

delighted he and his Princess had been at their son's having made

choice of so beautiful and amiable a virgin for his bride; how

greatly they had encouraged the match; and how chagrined they

were, that, from the lightness and inconstancy of his temper, the

proposed alliance was quite at an end. This wonderful acquittal

of the damsel the groom deposed he had received in half-an-hour

after his arrival at Blenheim; and he gave the most natural and

unembarrassed account of all the stages he had made, going and

coming.

You may still suspect, and so did some of the council, that every

tittle of this report and of the letter were not gospel: though I

own, I thought the epistle not irreconcilable to other parts of

the conduct of their graces about their children. Still, I defy

you to guess a thousandth part of the marvellous explanation of

the mystery.

The first circumstance that struck was, that the Duke, in his own

son's name, had forgotten the d in the middle. That was possible

in the hurry of doing justice. Next, the wax was black; and

nobody could discover for whom such illustrious personages were

in mourning. Well; that was no proof one way or other.

Unluckily, somebody suggested that Lord Henry Spencer was in

town, though to return the next day to Holland. A messenger was

sent to him, though very late at night, to beg he would repair to

Argyll-house. He did; the letter was shown to him; he laughed,

and said it had not the least resemblance to his father's hand.

This was negative detection enough; but now comes the most

positive and wonderful unravelling!

The next day the General received a letter from a gentleman,

confessing that his wife, a friend of Miss Charly, had lately

received from her a copy of a most satisfactory testimonial from

the Duke of Marlborough In her favour (though, note, the

narrative was not then gone to Blenheim); and begging the

gentlewoman's husband would transcribe it, and send it to her, as

she wished to send it to a friend in the country. The husband

had done so, but had had the precaution to write at top Copy; and

before the signature had written, signed, M.--both which words

Miss had erased, and then delivered the gentleman's identic

transcript to the groom, to be brought back as from Blenheim:

which the steady groom, on being examined anew, confessed; and

that, being bribed, he had gone but one post, and invented the

rest.

You will now pity the poor General, who has been a dupe from the

beginning, and sheds floods of tears; nay, has actually turned

his daughter out of doors, as she banished from Argyll-house too:

and Lady Charlotte,(738) to her honour, speaks of her with the

utmost Indignation. In fact, there never was a more

extraordinary tissue of effrontery, folly, and imposture.

it is a strange but not a miraculous part of this strange story,

that Gunnilda is actually harboured by, and lodges with, the old

Duchess(739) in Pall-Mall, the grandmother of whom she has

miscarried, and who was the first that was big with her. You may

depend on the authenticity of this narrative, and may guess from

whom I received all the circumstances, day by day; but pray, do

not quote me for that reason, nor let it out of your hands, nor

transcribe any part of it. The town knows the story confusedly,

and a million of false readings there will be; but, though you

know it exactly, do not send it back hither. You will, perhaps,

be diverted by the various ways in which it will be related.

Yours, etc. Eginhart, secretary to Charlemagne

and the Princess Gunnilda, his daughter.

P. S. Bowen is the name of the gentleman who gave information of

the letter sent to him to be copied, on hearing of the suspected

forgeries. The whole Minifry are involved in the suspicions, as

they defend the damsel, who still confesses nothing; and it is

her mother, not she, who is supposed to have tampered with the

groom; and is discarded, too, by her husband.

(733) The name of the family of Mrs. Gunning. See p. 469, letter

365.

(734) George Spencer Churchill, Marquis of Blandford; he

succeeded his father as fourth Duke of Marlborough in 1817.-E.

(735) General Gunning was son of John Gunning, Esq. of

Castle-Coole, in the county of Roscommon and brother of the

beautiful Miss Gunning, married first, in 1752, to the Duke of

Hamilton; and second, in 1759, to the Duke of Argyle.-E.

(736) George William Campbell, Marquis of Lorn. He succeeded his

father as sixth Duke of Argyle in 1806-E.

(737) The Emperor Joseph, in 1705, bestowed on the great Duke of

Marlborough the principality of Mindleheim, in Swabia.-E.

(738) Lady Charlotte Campbell. See p. 470, letter 365, note

729.-E.

(739) Gertrude, eldest daughter of John Earl Gower, Widow of John

fourth Duke of Bedford.-E.

Letter 369 To The Earl Of Charlemont.(740)

Berkeley Square, Feb. 17, 1791. (page 476)

It is difficult, my lord, with common language that has been so

prostituted in compliments, to express the real sense of

gratitude, which I do feel at my heart, for the obligation I have

to your lordship for an act of friendship as unexpected as it was

unsolicited; which last circumstance doubles the favour, as it

evinces your lordship's generosity and nobleness of temper,

without surprising me. How can I thank your lordship, as I

ought, for interesting yourself, and of yourself, to save me a

little mortification, which I deserve, and should deserve more,

had I the vanity to imagine that my printing a few copies of my

disgusting tragedy would occasion different and surreptitious

editions of it?

Mr. Walker has acquainted me, my lord, that your lordship has

most kindly interposed to prevent a bookseller of Dublin from

printing an edition of "The Mysterious Mother" without my

consent; and, with the conscious dignity of a great mind, your

lordship has not even hinted to me the graciousness of that

favour. How have I merited such condescending goodness, my lord?

Had I a prospect of longer life, I never could pay the debt of

gratitude; the weightier, as your lordship did not intend I

should know that I owe it. My gratitude can never be effaced;

and I am charmed that it is due, and due with so much honour to

me, that nothing could bribe me to have less obligation to your

lordship, of which I am so proud. But as to the play itself, I

doubt it must take its fate. Mr. Walker tells me the booksellers

have desired him to remonstrate to me, urging that they have

already expended fifty pounds; and Mr. Walker adds, as no doubt

would be the case, that should this edition be stifled, when now

expected, some other printer would publish it. I certainly might

indemnify the present operator, but I know too much of the craft,

not to be sure, that I should be persecuted by similar exactions;

and, alas! I have exposed myself but too much to the tyranny of

the press, not to know that it taxes delinquents as well as

multiplies their faults.

In truth, my lord, it is too late now to hinder copies of my play

from being spread. It has appeared here, both whole and in

fragments: and, to prevent a spurious one, I was forced to have

some printed myself: therefore, if I consent to an Irish edition,

it is from no vain desire of diffusing the performance. Indeed,

my good lord, I have lived too long not to have divested myself

both of vanity and affected modesty. I have not existed to past

seventy-three without having discovered the futility and

triflingness of my own talents: and, at the same time, it would

be impertinent to pretend to think that there is no merit in the

execution of a tragedy, on which I have been so much flattered;

though I am sincere in condemning the egregious absurdity of

selecting a subject so improper for the stage, and even offensive

to private readers.

But I have said too much on a personal theme; and therefore,

after repeating a million of thanks to your lordship for the

honour of your interposition, I will beg your lordship, if you

please, to signify to the bookseller that you withdraw your

prohibition: but I shall not answer Mr. Walker's letter, till I

have your lordship's approbation, for You are both my lord

chamberlain 'and licenser; and though I have a tolerably

independent spirit, I may safely trust myself under the absolute

power of one, who has voluntarily protected me against the

licentiousness of those who have invaded my property, and who

distinguishes so accurately and justly between license and

liberty.

(740) Now first collected. This letter was written in

consequence of one Walpole had received, informing him that a

Dublin bookseller was about to print his tragedy of The

Mysterious Mother. At this time, and indeed until the Union took

place, there was no act of parliament which regulated literary

property in Ireland.-E.

Letter 370 To Miss Agnes Berry.

Berkeley Square, Feb. 18, 1791. (page 477)

Here is a shocking, not a fatal, codicil to Gunnilda's story.

But first I should tell you, that two days after the explosion,

the ignora Madre took a postchaise and four, and drove to

Blenheim; but, not finding the Duke and Duchess there, she

inquired where the Marquis was, and pursued him to Sir Henry

Dashwood's: finding him there, she began about her poor daughter;

but he interrupted her, said there was an end put to all that,

and desired to lead her to her chaise, which he insisted on

doing, and did. I think this another symptom Of the Minifry

being accomplices to the daughter's enterprises. Well! after the

groom's confession, and after Mr. Bowen had been confronted with

her, and produced to her face her note to his wife, which she

resolutely disowned, she desired the Duke of Argyll to let her

take an oath on the Bible of her perfect innocence of every

Circumstance of the whole transaction; which you may be sure he

did not permit. N'importe: the next day, taking two of the

Duchess of Bedford's servants for witnesses, she went before a

justice of peace, swore to her innocence and ignorance

throughout, even of the note to Mrs. Bowen; and then said to the

magistrate, "Sir, from my youth you may imagine I do not know the

solemnity of an oath but, to convince you I do, I know my

salvation depends on what I have now sworn." Solve all this, if

you can! Is it madness? Does even romance extend its inventions

so far? or its dispensations? It is but a burlesque part of this

wonderful tale, that old crazy Bedford exhibits Miss every

morning on the causeway in Hyde Park; and declares her proteg`ee

some time ago refused the hand of your acquaintance, Mr.

Trevelyan.(741) Except of the contending Opera-houses, one can

hear of nothing but Miss Gunning,,; but it is now grown so

disgusting a story, that I shall be glad to hear and repeat to

you no more about it.

The Pantheon has opened, and is small, they say, but pretty and

simple; all the rest ill-conducted, and from the singers to the

sceneshifters imperfect; the dances long and bad, and the whole

performance so dilatory and tedious, that it lasted from eight to

half an hour past twelve. The rival theatre is said to be

magnificent and lofty, but it is doubtful whether it will be

suffered to come to light: in short, the contest will grow

politics; Dieu et Mon Droit supporting the Pantheon, and Ich Dien

countenancing the Haymarket. It is unlucky that the amplest

receptacle is to hold the minority!

20th.

O'Hara(742) is come to town. You will love him better than ever.

He persuaded the captain of the ship, whom you will love for

being persuaded, to stop at Lisbon, that he might see Mrs. Damer.

O'Hara has been shockingly treated! The House of Richmond is on

the point of receiving a very great blow. Colonel Lenox, who had

been dangerously ill but was better, has relapsed with all the

worst symptoms;(743) and is too weak to be sent to the south, as

the physicians recommended, Lady Charlotte is breeding, but that

is very precarious; and should it be a son, how many years ere

that can be a comfortable resource!

Is not it strange that London, in February and Parliament

sitting, should furnish no more paragraphs? Yet, confined at home

and in every body's way, and consequently my room being a

coffee-house from two to four, I probably hear all events worth

relating as soon as they are born, and send you them before they

are a week old. Indeed, I think the Gunninhiana may last you a

month at Pisa, where, I suppose, the grass grows in the streets

as fast as news. When I go out again I am likely to know less: I

go but to few, and those the privatest places I can find, which

are not the common growth of London; nor, but to amuse you,

should I inquire after news. What is a juvenile world to me; or

its pleasures, interests, or squabbles? I scarce know the

performers by sight.

21st.

It is very hard! The Gunnings will not let me or the town have

done with them. La Madre has advertised a Letter to the Duke of

Argyll: so he is forced to collect counter affidavits. The groom

has 'deposed that she promised him twenty pounds a year for his

life, and he has given up a letter that she wrote to him. The

mother, when she went after the Marquis, would have persuaded him

to get into her chaise; but he would not venture being carried to

Gretna-green, and married by force. She then wanted him to sign

a paper, that all was over between him and her daughter. He

said, "Madam, nothing was ever begun;" and refused. I told you

wrong: mother and daughter were not actually in the Duchess of

Bedford's house, but in Lord John Russel's, which she lent to

them: nor were her servants witnesses to the oath before Justice

Hide, but Dr. Halifax and the apothecary. The Signora and her

Infanta now, for privacy, are retired into St. James's-street,

next door to Brooks's; whence it is supposed Miss will angle for

unmarried Marquises-perhaps for Lord Titchfield.(744) It is lost

time for people to write novels, who can compose such a romance

as these good folks have invented. Adieu!

(741) Mr. Trevelyan married in the following August, Maria,

daughter of Sir Thomas Spencer Wilson, Bart. On the death of his

father, in 1828, he succeeded to the title, as fifth baronet.-E.

(742) Afterwards lieutenant- governor of Gibraltar. He died in

1802.

(743) Colonel Lenox recovered from his illness, and, in 1806,

succeeded his uncle as fourth Duke of Richmond. His grace was

governor of Canada at the period of his decease, at Montreal, in

1819; and was succeeded by the son here anticipated; who was born

on the 3d of August 1791.-E.

(744) In 1795, the, Marquis of Titchfield married Miss Scott,

eldest daughter and heir of General John Scott, of Balcomie, in

the county of Fife, and in 1809, succeeded his father as fourth

Duke of Portland.-E.

Letter 371. \To The Miss Berrys.

Berkeley Square, Feb. 26, 1791. (page 479)

I have no letter from you to answer, nor any thing new that is

the least interesting to tell you. The Duke of Argyll has sent a

gentleman with a cart-load of affidavits, which the latter read

to mother and daughter, in order to prevent the publication of

their libel; but it only enraged the former, -who vows she will

print all she knows, that is, any thing she has heard by their

entire intimacy in the family, or, no doubt, what she can invent

or misrepresent. What a Medusa! There has been a fragment of a

rehearsal in the Haymarket, but still the Pantheon remains master

of the field of battle: the vanquished are preparing manifestoes,

but they seldom recover the day.

Madame du Barry(745) is come over to recover her jewels, of which

she has been robbed--not by the National Assembly, but by four

Jews who have been seized here and committed to Newgate. Though

the late Lord Barrymore acknowledged her husband to be of his

noble blood, will she own the present Earl for a relation, when

she finds him turned strolling player!(746) If she regains her

diamonds, perhaps Mrs. Hastings may carry her to court.(747)

If you want bigger events, you may send to the Russian army, who

will cut you fifteen thousand throats in a paragraph; or, en

attendant, you may piddle with the havoc made at Chantilly, which

has been half demolished by the rights of men, as the poor old

Mesdames have been stopped by the rights of the poissardes; for,

as it is true that extremes meet, the moment despotism was hurled

from the throne, it devolved to the mob, whose majesties, not

being able to write their names, do not issue lettres de cachet,

but execute their wills with their own hands; for hanging, which

degrades an executioner, ne deroge pas in sovereigns--witness the

Czar Peter the Great, Muley Ishmael, and many religious and

gracious African monarchs.

After eleven weeks of close confinement, I went out yesterday to

take the air; but was soon driven back by rain and sleet, which

soon ripened to a tempest of wind and snow, and continued all

night - it does not freeze, but blows so hard, that I shall sally

out no more tilt the weather has recovered its temper-I do not

mean that I expect Pisan skies.

28th.

It was on Saturday that I began this; it is now Monday, and I

have no letter from you, though we have had dozens of east winds.

I am sorry to find that it costs above six weeks to say a word at

Pisa and have an answer in London. This makes correspondence

very uncomfortable; you will be talking to me of Miss Gunning,

when, perhaps, she may be sent to Botany Bay, and be as much

forgotten here as the Monster.(748) Still she has been a great

resource this winter; for, though London is apt to produce

Wilkeses, and George Gordons, and Mrs. Rudds, and Horne Tookes,

and other phenomena, wet and dry, the, present season has been

very unprolific; and we are forced to import French news, as we

used to do fashions and Operas comiques. The Mesdames are

actually set out: I shall be glad to hear they are safe at Turin,

for are there no poissardes but at Paris?(749) Natio poissarda

est.

Mr. Gibbon writes that he has seen Necker, and found him still

devoured by ambition.(750) and I should think by mortification at

the foolish figure he has made. Gibbon admires Burke to the

skies, and even the religious parts, he says.(751)

Monday evening.

The east winds are making me amends -, one of them has brought me

twins. I am sorry to find that even Pisa's sky is not quite

sovereign, but that you have both been out of order, though,

thank God! quite recovered both, If a Florentine March is at all

like an English one, I hope you will not remove thither till

April. Some of its months, I am sure, were sharper than those of

our common wear are. Pray be quite easy about me: I am entirely

recovered, though, if change were bad, we have scarce had one day

without every variety of bad weather, with a momentary leaf-gold

of sun. I have been out three times, and to-day have made five

and-twenty visits, and was let in at six; and, though a little

fatigued, am still able, you see, to finish my letter. You seem

to think I palliated my illness - I certainly did not tell you

that I thought it doubtful how it would end; yet I told you all &

circumstances, and surely did not speak sanguinely.

I wish, in No. 20, you had not again named October or November.

I have quite given up those months, and am vexed I ever pressed

for them, as they would break into Your reasonable plans, for

which I abandon any foolish ones of my own. But I am a poor

philosopher, or rather am like all philosophers, have no presence

of mind, and must study my part before I can act it. I have now

settled myself not to expect you this year-do not unsettle me: I

dread a disappointment, as I do a relapse of the gout; and

therefore cut this article short, that I may not indulge vain

hopes, My affection for you both is unalterable; can I give so

strong a proof as by supplicating you, as I do earnestly, to act

as is most prudent for your healths and interest? A long journey

in November would be the very worst part you could take. and I

beseech you not to think of it: for me, you see I take a great

deal of killing, nor is it so easy to die as is imagined.

Thank you, my dearest Miss Agnes, for your postscript. I love to

see your handwriting; and yet do not press for it, as you are

shy: though I address myself equally to both, and consult the

healths of both In what I have recommended above. Here is a

postscript for yours: Madame du Barry was to go and swear to her

jewels before the Lord Mayor. Boydell, who is a little better

bred than Monsieur Bailly,(752) made excuses for being obliged to

administer the oath chez lui, but begged she would name her hour;

and, when she did, he fetched her himself in the state-coach, and

had a mayor-royal banquet ready for her.(753) She has got most

of her jewels again. I want the King to send her four Jews to

the National Assembly, and tell them it is the change or la

monnoie of Lord George Gordon, the Israelite.

Colonel Lenox is much better: the Duchess of Leinster had a

letter from Goodwood to-day which says he rides out. I am glad

you do. I said nothing on "the Charming-man's" poem. I fear I

said too much to him myself. He said, others liked it: and

showed me a note from Mr. Burke, that was hyperbole itself. I

wish him so well, that I am sorry he should be so flattered,

when, in truth, he has no genius.(754) There is no novelty, no

plan, and no suite in his poetry: though many of the lines are

pretty. Dr. Darwin alone can exceed his predecessors.