332. To George Montagu, Esq. Nov. 1.-General Conway's refusal of
the appointment to secretary of state. Old Pulteney--506
333. To the Rev. Mr. Cole, Dec. 19.-Intended retirement from
Parliament. State of his health. Roman Catholic religion--506
1768.
334. To Sir David Dalrymple, Jan. 17.-Advice on sending a young
artist to Italy. "Historic Doubts." Coronation roll of Richard
the Third --[N.] 507
335. To the Rev. Mr. Cole, Feb. 1.-On Sending a copy of his
"Historic Doubts"--508
336. To Sir David Dalrymple, Feb. 2.-On sending him his "Historic
Doubts." Rapid sale of the first impression--(N.] 509
337. To Mr. Gray, Feb. 18.-New edition of Gray's poems. On his
own writings. King of Prussia. Lord Clarendon's "History."
"Historic Doubts." Disculpation of Richard the Third. "Turned of
fifty." Garrick's prologues and epilogues. Boswell's "Corsica."
General Paoli--509
338. To the same, Feb. 26.-"Historic Doubts." Guthrie's answer
thereto. Thanks for notes on the "Noble, Authors"--512
339. To George Montagu, Esq. March 12.-Reflections on his
retirement from Parliament. Guthrie's answer to the "Historic
Doubts." Sterne's Sentimental Journey." Gray's "Odes"--514
340. To the same, April 15.-Wit as temporary as dress and
manners. Fate of George Selwyn's bon-mots. Completion of his
tragedy of "The Mysterious Mother." Mrs. Pritchard. Garrick.
President Henault's tragedy of "Corn elie"--516
341. To the Rev. Mr. Cole, April 16.--Rous's rolls of the Earls
of Warwick. Projects a History of the Streets of London. St.
Foix's Rues de Paris. The Methodists. Whitfield's funeral sermon
on Gibson the forger--517
342. To the same, June 6.-History of Ely cathedral. Cardinal
Lewis de Luxembourg. Cardinal Morton. Painted glass--519
343. To George Montagu, Esq. June 15.-Inclemency of the weather.
English summers. Description of the climate by our poets.
Hot-house of St. Stephen's chapel. Indifference to parties. The
country going to ruin--520
344. To the Hon. H. S. Conway, June 16.-Wilkes and liberty.
Ministerial changes. Conduct of the Duke of Grafton. Distressed
state of the country. Lord Chatham. Foote's "Devil upon Two
Sticks." Subject of "The Mysterious Mother"--[N.] 521
345. To Monsieur de Voltaire, June 21.-On his soliciting a copy
of the "Historic Doubts." Reply to Voltaire's criticisms on
Shakspeare--523
346. To the Earl of Strafford, June 25.-Wilkes and Number 45. The
King of Denmark. Lady Rockingham and the Methodist Pope Joan
Huntingdon. Brentford election--524
347. To Monsieur de Voltaire, July 27.-Reply to Voltaire's
vindication of his criticism on Shakspeare. Story of M. de
jumonville. "Historic Doubts"--525
348. To the Hon. H. S. Conway, Aug. 9.-Lord Botetourt. New
Archbishop of Canterbury. King of Denmark. Augustus Hervey's
divorce from the Chudleigh. Gray appointed professor of modern
history. Efficacy of ice-water--527
349. To George Montagu, Esq. Aug. 13.-Arrival of the King of
Denmark. His person and manners. His suite--529
350. To the Earl of Strafford, Aug. 16.-Personal description of
the King of Denmark. His cold reception at Court. the first
favourite, Count Holke. His prime minister, Count Bernsdorff--529
351. To the Hon. H. S. Conway, Aug. 25.-Disturbance in America.
Coffee-house politicians. King of Denmark. Lady Bel
Stanhope--(N.] 531
352. To the Rev. Mr. Cole, Aug. 30.-Thanks for some prints and
some notices. Improvements at Strawberry. Mr. Granger's
"Catalogue of English Heads." Dr. Robertson's writings. Scotch
puffing--532
353. To the Earl of Strafford, Oct. 10.-Health and sickness.
quiet of his present illness contrasted with the inquiries after
him when his friends were coming into power--534
354. To George Montagu, Esq. Nov. 10.-Benefits from bootikins and
water-drinking. Elections--535
355. To the same, Nov. 15.-Separation of old friends in old age.
Moroseness of retirement. Evils of solitude. Death of the Duke of
Newcastle, and of Lady Hervey--535
356. To the same, Dec. 1.-Arlington-street. Reconciliation
between Lord Chatham, Earl Temple, and Mr. George Grenville.
Wilkes and the House of Commons--536
1769.
357. To George Montagu, Esq. March 26.-City riot. Brentford
election. Wilkes and Luttrell. Marriages--538
358. To the same, April 15.-Temperance the best physician. Easy
mode of preserving the teeth. Advice on wine drinking. Middlesex
election. Wilkes and the House of Commons--539
359. To the same, May 11.-Grand festino at Strawberry. Ridotto al
fresco at Vauxhall--540
360. To the Rev. Mr. Cole, May 27.-Granger's Catalogue of Prints
and Lives down to the Revolution. Intended visit to Paris.
Gough's British Topography--541
361. To the Rev. Mr. Cole, June 14.-Proposed painted window for
Ely cathedral. Bishop Mawson. Granger's dedication. Shenstone's
Letters. His unhappy passion for fame. The Leasowes. Instructions
on domestic privacy--542
362. To the same, June 26.-Intended visit to Ely. English
summers. Advice to quit Marshland. Joscelin de Louvain--545
363. To the Earl of Strafford, July 3.-Disinterestedness and
length of their friendship. Three years' absence of summer.
Emptiness of London. City politics. Angling. Methuselah--546
364. To the Hon. H. S. Conway, July 7.-Lord Chatham at the King's
levee--547
365. To the Rev. Mr. Cole, July 15.-Return from Ely. East window
of the cathedral. Bishop Luda's tomb--548
366. To the same, Aug. 12.-Thanks for some prints. Advice
respecting a History of Gothic Architecture. Tyson's "History of
Fashions and Dresses"--549
367. To George Montagu, Esq. Aug. 18.-Calais. Complaint of his
friend's long silence. Journey to Paris--551
368. To John Chute, Esq. Aug. 30.-Journey to Paris. Lord Dacre
and Dr. Pomme. Account of Madame du Deffand. Madame du Barry.
French theatre. Hamlet. The Dumenil. Voltaire's tragedy of "Les
Gu`ebres"- -552
(369. To George Montagu, Esq. Sept. 7.-Character of Madame du
Deffand. Uncertainty of life. A five-and-thirty years'
friendship. Visit to the Abbess of Panthemont--553
370. To the Earl of Strafford, Sept. 8.-Affected admiration of
the French government. Lettres de cachet. Students in
legislature. French treatment Of trees--555
371. To George Montagu, Esq. Sept. 17.-Visit to Versailles,
Madame du Barry. The Dauphin. Count de Provence. Count d'Artois.
The King. Visit to St. Cyr. Madame de Maintenon. Madame de
Cambise. Trait of Madame de Mailly --557
372. To the same, Oct. 13.-Return to England. Congratulations on
his friend's being appointed Lord North's private secretary--560
373. To the same, Oct. 16.-Return to Strawberry. His tragedy of
"The Mysterious Mother." Bad taste of the public. Garrick's
prologues and epilogues. French chalk and dirt contrasted with
English neatness and greenth--560
374. To the Hon. H. S. Conway, Nov. 14.-Lord Temple's dinner with
the Lord Mayor. Tottering position of the Duc de Choiseul. "Trip
to the Jubilee." Literature and politics of the day. Milton's
prose writings. Heroes and orators--561
375. To George Montagu, Esq. Dec. 14.-Condolence on the death of
Mrs. Trevor. Loss of friends and connexions. Cumberland's comedy
of "The Brothers." Alderman Backwell--562
376. To the Rev. Mr. Cole, Dec. 21.-Thanks for communications.
Mr. Tyson's etchings. Madame du Deffand--[N.] 563
Letter 1 To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street, Nov. 17, 1759. (page 25)
I rejoice over your brother's honours, though I certainly had no
hand in them. He probably received his staff from the board of
trade. If any part of the consequences could be placed to
partiality for me, it would be the prevention of your coming to
town, which I wished. My lady Cutts(1) is indubitably your own
grandmother: the Trevors would once have had it, but by some
misunderstanding the old Cowslade refused it. Mr. Chute has
twenty more corroborating circumstances, but this one is
sufficient.
Fred. Montagu told me of the pedigree. I shall take care of all
your commissions. Felicitate yourself on having got from me the
two landscapes; that source is stopped. Not that Mr. M`untz is
eloped to finish the conquest of America, nor promoted by Mr.
Secretary's zeal for my friends, nor because the ghost of Mrs.
Leneve has appeared to me, and ordered me to drive Hannah and
Ishmael into the wilderness. A cause much more familiar to me
has separated US--nothing but a tolerable quantity of ingratitude
on his side, both to me and Mr. Bentley. The story is rather too
long for a letter: the substance was most extreme impertinence to
me, concluded by an abusive letter against Mr. Bentley, who sent
him from starving on seven pictures for a guinea to One hundred
pounds a year, my house, table, and utmost countenance. In
short, I turned his head, and was forced to turn him out of
doors. You shall see the documents, as it is the fashion to call
proof papers. Poets and painters imagine they confer the Honour
when they are protected, and they set down impertinence to the
article of their own virtue, when you dare to begin to think that
an ode or a picture is not a patent for all manner of insolence.
My Lord Temple, as vain as if he was descended from the stroller
Pindar, or had made up card-matches at the siege of Genoa, has
resigned the privy seal, because he has not the garter.(2) You
cannot imagine what an absolute prince I feel myself with knowing
that nobody can force me to give the garter to M`untz.
My Lady Carlisle is going to marry a Sir William Musgrave, who is
but three-and-twenty; but, in consideration of the match, and of
her having years to spare, she has made him a present of ten, and
calls them three-and-thirty. I have seen the new Lady Stanhope.
I assure you her face will introduce no plebeian charms into the
faces of the Stanhopes, Adieu!
(1) Lady Cutts was the mother of Mrs. Montagu, by her second
husband, John Trevor, Esq. and grandmother of George Montagu.-E.
(2) See vol. ii. p. 522, letter 344.
Letter 2 TO THE RIGHT HON. WILLIAM PITT.(3)
Arlington Street, Nov. 19, 1759. (page 26)
Sir,
On coming to town, I did myself the honour of waiting on you and
Lady Hester Pitt: and though I think myself extremely
distinguished by your obliging note, I shall be sorry for having
given you the trouble of writing it, if it did not lend me a very
pardonable opportunity of saying what I much wished to express,
but thought myself too private a person, and of too little
consequence, to take the liberty to say. In short, Sir, I was
eager to congratulate you on the lustre you have thrown on this
country; I wished to thank you for the security you have fixed to
me of enjoying the happiness I do enjoy. You have placed England
in a situation in which it never saw itself--a task the more
difficult, as you had not to improve, but recover.
In a trifling book, written two or three years ago,(4) I said
(speaking of the name in the world the most venerable to me),
"sixteen unfortunate and inglorious years since his removal have
already written his eulogium." It is but justice to you, Sir, to
add, that that period ended when your administration began.
Sir, do not take this for flattery: there is nothing in your
power to give that I would accept; nay, there is nothing I could
envy, but what I believe you would scarce offer me--your glory.
This may seem very vain and insolent: but consider, Sir, what a
monarch is a man who wants nothing! consider how he looks down
on one who is only the most illustrious man in England! But Sir,
freedoms apart, insignificant as I am, probably it must be some
satisfaction to a great mind like yours to receive incense, when
you are sure there is no flattery blended with it; and what must
any Englishman be that could give you a moment's satisfaction and
would hesitate?
Adieu! Sir. I am unambitious, I am uninterested, but I am vain.
You have, by your notice, uncanvassed, unexpected, and at a
period when you certainly could have the least temptation to
stoop down to me, flattered me in the most agreeable manner. If
there could arrive the moment when you could be nobody, and I any
body, you cannot imagine how grateful I would be. In the mean
time, permit me to be, as I have been ever since I had the honour
of knowing you, Sir, your most obedient humble servant.
(3) Now first collected.
(4) His "Catalogue of Royal and Noble Authors."-E.
Letter 3 To Sir Horace Mann.
Arlington Street, Nov. 30th of the Great Year. (page 27)
here is a victory more than I promised you! For these thirteen
days we have been in the utmost impatience for news. The Brest
fleet had got out; Duff, with three ships, was in the utmost
danger--Ireland ached--Sir Edward Hawke had notice in ten hours,
and sailed after Conflans--Saunders arrived the next moment from
Quebec, heard it, and sailed after Hawke, without landing his
glory. No express arrived, storms blow; we knew not what to
think. This morning at four we heard that, on the 20th, Sir
Edward Hawke came in sight of the French, who were pursuing Duff.
The fight began at half an hour past two--that is, the French
began to fly, making a running fight. Conflans tried to save
himself behind the rocks of Belleisle, but was forced to burn his
ship of eighty guns and twelve hundred men. The Formidable, of
eighty, and one thousand men, is taken; we burned the Hero of
seventy-four, eight hundred and fifteen men. The Thes`ee and
Superbe of seventy-four and seventy, and of eight hundred and
fifteen and eight hundred men, were sunk in the action, and the
crews lost. Eight of their ships are driven up the Vilaine,
after having thrown over their guns; they have moored two
frigates to defend the entrance, but Hawke hopes to destroy them.
Our loss is a scratch, one lieutenant and thirty-nine men killed,
and two hundred and two wounded. The Resolution of seventy-four
guns, and the Essex of sixty-four, are lost, but the crews saved;
they, it is supposed, perished by the tempest, which raged all
the time, for
"We rode in the whirlwind and directed the storm."
Sir Edward heard guns of distress in the night, but could not
tell whether of friend or foe, nor could assist them.(5)
Thus we wind up this wonderful year! Who that died three years
ago and could revive, would believe it! Think, that from
Petersburgh to the Cape of Good Hope, from China to California,
De Paris `a Perou,
there are not five thousand Frenchmen in the world that have
behaved well! Monsieur Thurot is piddling somewhere on the coast
of Scotland, but I think our sixteen years of fears of invasion
are over--after sixteen victories. if we take Paris, I don't
design to go thither before spring. My Lord Kinnoul is going to
Lisbon to ask pardon for Boscawen's beating De la Clue in their
House; it will be a proud supplication, with another victory in
bank.(6) Adieu! I would not profane this letter with a word of
any thing else for the world.
(5) This was Hawke's famous victory, for which he received the
thanks of Parliament, and a pension of two thousand pounds
a-year. In 1765, he was created a peer.-D.
(6) The object of Lord Kinnoul's mission to the court of Portugal
was to remove the misunderstanding between the two crowns, in
consequence of Admiral Boscawen's having destroyed some French
ships under the Portuguese fort in the bay of Lagos.-E.
Letter 4 TO SIR HORACE MANN.
Arlington Street, Dec. 13, 1759. (page 28)
That ever you should pitch upon me for a mechanic or geometric
commission! How my own ignorance has laughed at me since I read
your letter! I say, your letter, for as to Dr. Perelli's, I know
no more of a Latin term in mathematics than Mrs. Goldsworthy(7)
had an idea of verbs. I will tell you an early anecdote in my
own life, and you shall judge. When I first went to Cambridge, I
was to learn mathematics of the famous blind professor Sanderson.
I had not frequented him a fortnight, before he said to me,
"Young man, it is cheating you to take your money: believe me,
you never can learn these things; you have no capacity for
them."- I can smile now, but I cried then with mortification.
The next step, in order to comfort myself, was not to believe him
: I could not conceive that I had not talents for any thing in
the world. I took, at my own expense, a private instructor,(8)
who came to me once a-day for a year. Nay, I took infinite
pains, but had so little capacity, and so little attention, (as I
have always had to any thing that did not immediately strike my
inclination) that after mastering any proposition,
when the man came the next day, it was as new to me as if I had
never heard of it ; in short, even to common figures, I am the
dullest dunce alive. I have often said it of myself, and it is
true, that nothing that has not a proper Dame of a man or
a woman to it, affixes any idea upon my mind. I could
remember who was King Ethelbald's great aunt, and not be sure
whether she lived in the year 500 or 1500. I don't know whether I
ever told you, that when you sent me the seven gallons of drams,
and they were carried to Mr. Fox by mistake for Florence wine, I
pressed @im to keep as much as he liked: for, said I, I have seen
the bill of lading, and there is a vast quantity. He asked how
much? I answered seventy gallons; so little idea I have of
quantity. I will tell you one more story of myself, and you will
comprehend what sort of a head I have! Mrs. Leneve said to me
one day, "There is a vast waste of coals in your house ; you
should make the servants take off the fires at night." I
recollected this as I was going to bed, and, out of economy, put
my fire out with a bottle of Bristol water! However, as I
certainly will neglect nothing to oblige you, I went to Sisson
and gave him the letter. He has undertaken both the engine and
the drawing, and has promised the utmost care in both. The
latter, he says, must be very large, and that it will take some
time to have it performed very accurately. He has promised me
both in six or seven weeks. But another time, don't imagine,
because I can bespeak an enamelled bauble, that I am fit to be
entrusted with the direction of the machine at Marli. It is not
to save myself trouble, for I think nothing so for you, but
I would have you have credit, and I should be afraid of
dishonouring you.
There! there is the King of Prussia has turned all our war and
peace topsy-turvy ! If Mr. Pitt Will conquer
Germany too, he must go and do it himself. Fourteen thousand
soldiers and nine generals taken, as it were, in a partridge net!
and what is worse, I have not heard yet that the monarch owns his
rashness.(9) As often as he does, indeed, he is apt to repair
it. You know I have always dreaded Daun--one cannot make a
blunder but he profits of it-and this ' just at the moment that
we heard of nothing but new bankruptcy in France. I want to know
what a kingdom is to do when it is forced to run away?
14th.--Oh! I interrupt my reflections--there is another bit of a
victory! Prince Henry, who has already succeeded to his
brother's crown, as king of the fashion, has
beaten a parcel of Wirternberghers and taken four battalions.
Daun is gone into Bohemia, and Dresden is still to be ours. The
French are gone into winter quarters--thank God! What weather is
here to be lying on the ground! Men should be statues, or will
be so, if they go through it. Hawke is enjoying himself in
Quiberon Bay, but I believe has done no more execution. Dr. Hay
says it will soon be as shameful to beat a Frenchman as to beat a
woman. Indeed, one is
forced to ask every morning what victory there is, for fear of
missing one. We talk of a con(,,ress at Breda, and some think
Lord Temple will go thither: if he does, I shall really believe
it will be peace; and a good one, as it will then be of Mr.
Pitt's making.
I was much pleased that the watch succeeded so triumphantly, and
beat the French watches, though they were two to one. For the
Fugitive pieces: the Inscription for the Column(10) was written
when I was with you at Florence, though I don't wonder that you
have forgotten it after so many yeirs. I would not have it
talked of, for I find some grave personages are offended -with
the liberties I have taken with so imperial a head. What could
provoke them to give a column Christian burial? Adieu!
(7) Wife of the English consul at Leghorn, where, when she was
learning Italian by grammar, she said, "Oh! give me a language in
which there are no verbs!" concluding, as she had not learnt her
own language by grammar, that there were no verbs in English.
(8) Dr. Treviger.
(9) It was not Frederick's fault; he was not there ; but that of
General Finek, who had placed himself so injudiciously, that he
was obliged to capitulate to the Austrians with fourteen thousand
men.
(10) The inscription for the neglected Column in St. Mark's Place
at Florence.-E.
Letter 5 To George Montagu, Esq.
Strawberry Hill, Dec. 23, 1759. (page 30)
How do you do? are you thawed again? how have you borne the
country in this bitter weather? I have not been here these three
weeks till to-day, and was delighted to find it so pleasant, and
to meet a comfortable southeast wind, the fairest of all winds,
in spite of the scandal that lies on the east; though it is the
west that is parent of all ugliness. The frost was succeeded by
such fogs, that I could not find my way out of London.
Has your brother told you of the violences in Ireland? There
wanted nothing but a Massaniello to overturn the government; and
luckily for the government and for Rigby, he, who was made for
Massaniello, happened to be first minister there. Tumults, and
insurrections, and oppositions,
"Like arts and sciences, have travelled west."
Pray make the general collect authentic accounts of those civil
wars against he returns--you know where they will find their
place, and that you are one of the very few that will profit of
them. I will grind and dispense to you all the corn you bring to
my mill.
We good-humoured souls vote eight millions with as few questions,
as if the whole House of Commons was at the club at Arthur's; and
we live upon distant news, as if London was York or Bristol.
There is nothing domestic, but that Lord George Lennox, being
refused Lord Ancram's consent, set out for Edinburgh with Lady
Louisa Kerr, the day before yesterday; and Lord Buckingham is
going to be married to our Miss Pitt of Twickenham, daughter of
that strange woman who had a mind to be my wife, and who sent Mr.
Raftor to know why I did not marry her. I replied, "Because I
was not sure that the two husbands, that she had at once, were
both dead." Apropos to my wedding, Prince Edward asked me at the
Opera, t'other night, when I was to marry Lady Mary Coke: I
answered, as soon as I got a regiment; which, you know, is now
the fashionable way.
The kingdom of beauty is in as great disorder as the kingdom of
Ireland. My Lady Pembroke looks like a ghost-poor Lady Coventry
is going to be one; and the Duchess of Hamilton is so altered I
did not know her. Indeed, she is bid with child, and so big,
that as my Lady Northumberland says, it is plain she has a camel
in her belly, and my Lord Edgecumbe says, it is as true it did
not go through the eye of a needle. That Countess has been laid
up with a hurt in her leg; Lady Rebecca Paulett pushed her on the
birthnight against a bench: the Duchess of Grafton asked if it
was true that Lady Rebecca kicked her? "Kick me, Madam! When did
you ever hear of a Percy that took a kick?"
I can tell you another anecdote of that house, that will not
divert you less. Lord March making them a visit this summer at
Alnwick Castle, my lord received him at the gate, and said, "I
believe, my lord, this is the first time that ever a Douglas and
a Percy met here in friendship." Think of this from a Smithson to
a true Douglas!
I don't trouble my head about any connexion; any news into the
country I know is welcome, though it comes out higlepigledy, just
as it happens to be packed up. The cry in Ireland has been
against Lord Hilsborough, supposing him to mediate an union of
the two islands; George Selwyn, seeing him set t'other night
between my Lady Harrington and Lord Barrington, said, "Who can
say that my Lord Hilsborough is not an enemy to an union?"
I will tell you one more story, and then good night. Lord
Lyttelton(11) was at Covent Garden; Beard came on: the former
said, "How comes Beard here? what made him leave Drury Lane?"
Mr. Shelley, who sat next him, replied, "Why, don't you know he
has been such a fool as to go and marry a Miss Rich? He has
married Rich's daughter." My lord coloured; Shelley found out
what he had said, and ran away.
I forgot to tell you, that you need be in no disturbance about
M`untz's pictures; they were a present I made you. Good night!
(11) Lord Lyttelton married a daughter of Sir Robert Rich.
Letter 6 To The Rev. Henry Zouch.
Strawberry Hill, Dec. 23, 1759. (page 31)
Sir,
I own I am pleased, for your sake as well as my own, at hearing
from you again. I felt sorry at thinking that you was displeased
with the frankness and sincerity of my last. You have shown me
that I made a wrong judgment of you, and I willingly correct it.
You are extremely obliging in giving yourself the least trouble
to make collections for me. I have received so much assistance
and information from you, that I am sure I cannot have a more
useful friend. For the Catalogue, I forgot it, as in the course
of things I suppose it is forgot. For the Lives of English
Artists I am going immediately to begin it, and shall then fling
it into the treasury of the world, for the amusement of the world
for a day, and then for the service of any body who shall happen
hereafter to peep into the dusty drawer where it shall repose.
For my Lord Clarendon's new work(12) of which you ask me, I am
charmed with it. It entertains me more almost than any book I
ever read. I was told there was little in it that had not
already got abroad, or was not known by any other channels. If
that is true, I own I am so scanty an historian as to have been
ignorant of many of the facts but sure, at least, the
circumstances productive of, or concomitant on several of them,
set them in very new lights. The deductions and stating of
arguments are uncommonly fine. His language I find much
censured--in truth, it is sometimes involved, particularly in the
indistinct usage of he and him. But in my opinion his style is
not so much inferior to the former History as it seems. But this
I take to be the case; when the former part appeared, the world
was not accustomed to a good style as it is now. I question if
the History of the Rebellion had been published but this summer,
whether it would be thought so fine in point of style as it has
generally been reckoned. For his veracity, alas! I am sorry to
say, there is more than one passage in the new work which puts
one a little upon one's guard in lending him implicit credit.
When he says that Charles I. and his queen were a pattern of
conjugal affection, it makes one stare. Charles was so, I verily
believe; but can any man in his historical senses believe, that
my Lord Clarendon did not know that, though the Queen was a
pattern of affection, it was by no means of the conjugal
kind.(13) Then the subterfuges my Lord Clarendon uses to avoid
avowing that Charles II. was a Papist, are certainly no grounds
for corroborating his veracity.(14) In short, I don't believe
him when he does not speak truth; but he has spoken so much
truth, that it is easy to see when he does not.
Lucan is in poor forwardness. I have been plagued with a
succession of bad printers, and am not got beyond the fourth
book. It will scarce appear before next winter. Adieu! Sir. I
have received so much pleasure and benefit from your
correspondence, that I should be sorry to lose it. I will not
deserve to lose it, but endeavour to be, as you will give me
leave to be, your, etc.
(12) The life of Edward Earl of Clarendon, etc. Dr. Johnson, in
the sixty-fifth number of the Idler, has also celebrated the
appearance of this interesting and valuable work.-C.
(13) Mr. Walpole had early taken up this opinion; witness that
gross line in his dull epistle to Aston, written in 1740, "The
lustful Henrietta's Romish shade;" but we believe that no good
authority for this imputation can be produced: there is strong
evidence the other way: and if we were even to stand on mere
authority, we should prefer that of Lord Clarendon to the
scandalous rumours of troublesome times, which were, we believe,
the only guides of Mr. Walpole.-C.
(14) Nor for impugning it; for, the very fact, brought to light
in later times, of Charles's having, with great secrecy and
mystery, reconciled himself to the church of Rome on his
deathbed, proves that up to that extreme hour he was not a
Papist.-C.
Letter 7 To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street, Jan. 7, 1760. (page 32)
You must wonder I have not written to you a long time; a person
of my consequence! I am now almost ready to say, We, instead of I
In short, I live amongst royalty--considering the plenty, that is
no great wonder. All the world lives with them, and they with
all the world. Princes and Princesses open shops in every corner
of the town, and the whole town deals with them. As I have gone
to one, I chose to frequent all, that I night not be particular,
and seem to have views; and yet it went so much against me, that
I came to town on purpose a month ago for the Duke's levee, and
had engaged brand to go with me, and then could not bring myself
to it. At last, I went to him and the Princess Emily yesterday.
It was well I had not flattered myself with being still in my
bloom; I am grown so old since they saw me, that neither of them
knew me. When they were told, he just spoke to me (I forgive
him; he is not out of my debt, even with that) - she was
exceedingly gracious, and commended Strawberry to the skies.
TO-night, I was asked to their party at Norfolk House. These
parties are wonderfully select and dignified one might sooner be
a knight of Malta than qualified for them; I don't know how the
Duchess of Devonshire, Mr. Fox, and I, were forgiven some of our
ancestors. There were two tables at loo, two at whist, and a
quadrille. I was commanded to the Duke's loo; he was sat down:
not to make him wait, I threw my hat upon the marble table, and
broke four pieces off a great crystal chandelier. I stick to my
etiquette, and treat them with great respect; not as I do my
friend, the Duke of York. But don't let us talk any more of
Princes. My Lucan appears to-morrow; I must say it is a noble
volume. Shall I send it you--or won't you come and fetch it?
There is nothing new of public, but the violent commotions in
Ireland,(15) whither the Duke of Bedford still persists in going.
AEolus to quell a storm!
I am in great concern for my old friend, poor Lady Harry
Beauclerc; her lord dropped down dead two nights ago, as he was
sitting with her and all their children. Admiral Boscawen is
dead by this time.(16) Mrs. Osborne and I are not much
afflicted; Lady Jane Coke too is dead, exceedingly rich; I have
not heard her will yet.
If you don't come to town soon, I give you warning, I will be a
lord of the bedchamber, or a gentleman usher. If you will, I
will be nothing but what I have been so many years-my own and
yours ever.
(15) Walpole, in his Memoires, vol. ii. p. 401, gives a
particular account of these commotions. Gray, in a letter to Dr.
Wharton, of the 23d of January, says, "They placed an old woman
on the throne, and called for pipes and tobacco; made my Lord
Chief Justice administer an oath (which they dictated) to my Lord
Chancellor; beat the Bishop of Killaloe black and blue; at
foot-ball with Chenevix, the old refugee Bishop of Waterford;
rolled my Lord Farnham in the kennel; pulled Sir Thomas
Prendergast by the nose (naturally large) till it was the size of
a cauliflower-; and would have hanged Rigby if he had not got out
of a window. At last the guard was obliged to move (with orders
not to fire), but the mob threw dirt at them. then the horse
broke in upon them, cutting and slashing, and took seventeen
prisoners. The notion that had possessed the crowd was, that a
union was to be voted between the two nations, and they should
have no more parliaments there." Works, vol. iii. p. 233.-E.
(16) This distinguished admiral survived till January 1761.-E.
(17) Daughter of lord Torrington, and sister of the unfortunate
Admiral Byng. She was married to the son of sir John Osborn of
Chicksand Priory.-E.
Letter 8 To The Right Hon. Lady Hervey.
Jan. 12, 1760. (page 34)
I am very sorry your ladyship could doubt a moment on the cause
of my concern yesterday. I saw you much displeased at what I had
said; and felt so innocent of the least intention of offending
you, that I could not help being struck at my own ill-fortune,
and wit[) the sensation raised by finding you mix great goodness
with great severity.
I am naturally very impatient under praise; I have reflected
enough on myself to know I don't deserve it; and with this
consciousness you ought to forgive me, Madam, if I dreaded that
the person Whose esteem I valued the most in the world, should
think, that I was fond of what I know is not my due. I meant to
express this apprehension as respectfully as I could, but my
words failed me-a misfortune not too common to me, who am apt to
say too much, not too little! Perhaps it is that very quality
which your ladyship calls wit, and I call tinsel, for which I
dread being praised. I wish to recommend myself to you by more
essential merits-and if I can only make you laugh, it will be
very apt to make me as much concerned as I was yesterday. For
people to whose approbation I am indifferent, I don't care
whether they commend or condemn me for my wit; in the former case
they Will not make me admire myself for it, in the latter they
can't make me think but what I have thought already. But for the
few whose friendship I wish, I would fain have them see, that
under all the idleness of my spirits there are some very serious
qualities, such as warmth, gratitude, and sincerity, which @ill
returns may render useless or may make me lock up in my breast,
but which will remain there while I have a being.
having drawn you this picture of myself, Madam, a subject I have
to say so much upon, will not your good-nature apply it as it
deserves, to what passed yesterday? Won't you believe that my
concern flowed from being disappointed at having offended one
whom I ought by so many ties to try to please, and whom, if I
ever meant any thing, I had meaned to please? I intended you
should see how much I despise wit, if I have any, and that you
should know my heart was void of vanity and full of gratitude.
They -are very few I desire should know so much; but my passions
act too promptly and too naturally, as you saw, when I am with
those I really love, to be capable of any disguise. Forgive me,
Madam, this tedious detail but of all people living, I cannot
bear that you should have a doubt about me.
Letter 9 To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street, Jan. 14, 1760. (page 35)
How do you contrive to exist on your mountain in this rude
season! Sure you must be become a snowball! As I was not in
England in forty-one, I had no notion of such cold. The streets
are abandoned; nothing appears in them: the Thames is almost as
solid. Then think what a campaign must be in such a season! Our
army was under arms for fourteen hours on the twenty-third,
expecting the French and several of the men were frozen when they
should have dismounted. What milksops the Marlboroughs and
Ttirennes, the Blakes and the Van Tromps appear now, who whipped
into winter quarters and into port, the moment their noses looked
blue. Sir Cloudesly Shovel said that an admiral would deserve to
be broke, who kept great ships out after the end of September,
and to be shot if after October. There is Hawke(18) in the bay
weathering this winter, after conquering in a storm. For my
part, I scarce venture to make a campaign in the Opera-house; for
if I once begin to freeze, I shall be frozen through in a moment.
I am amazed, with such weather, such ravages, and distress, that
there is any thing left in Germany, but money; for thither half
the treasure of Europe goes: England, France, Russia, and all the
Empress can squeeze from Italy and Hungary, all is sent thither,
and yet the wretched people have not subsistence. A pound of
bread sells at Dresden for eleven-pence. We are going to send
many more troops thither; and it Is so much the fashion to raise
regiments, that I wish there were such a neutral kind of beings
in England as abb`es, that one might have an excuse for not
growing military mad, when one has turned the heroic corner of
one's age. I am ashamed of being a young rake, when my seniors
are covering their gray toupees with helmets and feathers, and
accoutering their pot-bellies with cuirasses and martial
masquerade habits. Yet rake I am, and abominably so, for a
person that begins to wrinkle reverently. I have sat up twice
this week till between two and three with the Duchess of Grafton,
at loo, who, by the way, has got a pam-child this morning; and on
Saturday night I supped with Prince Edward at my Lady Rochford's,
and we stayed till half an hour past three. My favour with that
Highness continues, or rather increases. He makes every body
make suppers for him to meet me, for I still hold out against
going to court. In short, if he were twenty years older, or I
could make myself twenty years younger, I might carry him to
Camden-house, and be as impertinent as ever my Lady Churchill
was; but, as I dread being ridiculous, I shall give my Lord Bute
no uneasiness. My Lady Maynard, who divides the favour of this
tiny court with me,- supped with us. Did you know she sings
French ballads very prettily? Lord Rochford played on the guitar,
and the Prince sung; there were my two nieces, and Lord
Waldegrave, Lord Huntingdon, and Mr. Morrison the groom, and the
evening was pleasant; but I had a much more agreeable supper last
night at Mrs. Clive's, with Miss West, my niece Cholmondeley, and
Murphy, the writing actor, who is very good company, and two or
three more. Mrs. Cholmondeley is very lively; you know how
entertaining the Clive is, and Miss West is an absolute original.
There is nothing new, but a very dull pamphlet, written by Lord
Bath, and his chaplain Douglas, called a Letter to Two Great Men.
It is a plan for the peace, and much adopted by the city, and
much admired by all who are too humble to judge for themselves.
I was much diverted the other morning with another volume on
birds, by Edwards, who has published four or five. The poor man,
who is grown very old and devout, begs God to take from him the
love of natural philosophy; and having observed some heterodox
proceedings among bantam cocks, he proposes that all schools of
girls and boys should be promiscuous, lest, if separated, they
should learn wayward passions. But what struck me most were his
dedications, the last was to God; this is to Lord Bute, as if he
was determined to make his fortune in one world or the other.
Pray read Fontaine's fable of the lion grown old; don't it put
you in mind of any thing? No! not when his shaggy majesty has
borne the insults of the tiger and the horse, etc. and the ass
comes last, kicks out his only remaining fang, and asks for a
blue bridle? Apropos, I will tell you the turn Charles Townshend
gave to this fable. "My lord," said he, "has quite mistaken the
thing; he soars too high at first: people often miscarry by not
proceeding by degrees; he went and at once asked for my Lord
Carlisle's garter-if he would have been contented to ask first
for my Lady Carlisle's garter, I don't know but he would have
obtained it." ' Adieu!
(18) Sir Edward Hawke had defeated the French fleet, commanded by
Admiral Conflans, in the beginning of this winter. [A graphical
description of this victory is given by Walpole in his Memoires.
"It was," he says, "the 20th of November: the shortness of the
day prevented the total demolition of the enemy; but neither
darkness, nor a dreadful tempest that ensued, could call off Sir
Edward from pursuing his blow. The roaring of the element was
redoubled by the thunder from our ships; and both concurred, in
that scene of horror, to put a period to the navy and hopes of
France."--E.]
Letter 10 To Sir Horace Mann.
Strawberry Hill, Jan. 20, 1760. (page 36)
I am come hither in the bleakest of all winters, not to air and
exercise, but to look after my gold-fish and orange-trees. We
import all the delights of hot countries, but as we cannot
propagate their climate too, such a season as this is mighty apt
to murder rarities. And it is this very winter that has been
used for the invention of a campaign in Germany! where all fuel
is so destroyed that they have no fire but out of the mouth of a
cannon. If I were writing to an Italian as well as into Italy,
one might string concetti for an hour, and describe how heroes
are frozen on their horses till they become their own statues.
But seriously, does not all this rigour of warfare throw back an
air of effeminacy on the Duke of Marlborough and the brave of
ancient days, who only went to fight as one goes out of town in
spring, and who came back to London with the first frost'@ Our
generals are not yet arrived, though the Duke de Broglio's last
miscarriage seems to determine that there shall at last be such a
thing as winter quarters; but Daun and the King of Prussia are
still choosing King and Queen in the field.
There is a horrid scene of distress in the family of Cavendish;
the Duke's sister,(19) Lady Besborough, died this morning of the
same fever and sore throat of which she lost four children four
years ago. It looks as if it was a plague fixed in the walls of
their house: it broke out again among their servants, and carried
off two, a year and a half after the children. About ten days
ago Lord Besborough was seized with it, and escaped with
difficulty; then the eldest daughter had it, though slightly: my
lady, attending them, is dead of it in three days. It is the
same sore throat which carried off Mr. Pelham's two only sons,
two daughters, and a daughter of the Duke of Rutland, at once.
The physicians, I think, don't know what to make of it.
I am sorry you and your friend Count Lorenzi(20) are such
political foes, but I am much more concerned for the return of
your headaches. I don't know what to say about Ward's(21)
medicine, because the cures he does in that complaint are
performed by him in person. He rubs his hand with some
preparation and holds it upon your forehead, from which several
have found instant relief. If you please, I will consult him
whether he will send you any preparation for it; but you must
first send me the exact symptoms and circumstances of your
disorder and constitution, for I would not for the world venture
to transmit to you a blind remedy for an unexamined complaint.
You cannot figure a duller season: the weather bitter, no party,
little money, half the world playing the fool in the country with
the militia, others raising regiments or with their regiments; in
short, the end of a war and of a reign furnish few episodes.
Operas are more in their decline than ever. Adieu!
(19) Caroline, eldest daughter of William third Duke of
Devonshire, and wife of William Ponsonby, Earl of Besborough.
(20) Minister of France at Florence, though a Florentine.
(21) Ward, the empiric, whose pill and drop were supposed, at
this time, to have a surprising effect. He is immortalized by
Pope-
"See Ward by batter'd beaux invited over."
There is a curious statue of him in marble at the Society of
Arts, in full dress, and a flowing wig.-D.
Letter 11 To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street, Jan. 28, 1760. (page 37)
I shall almost frighten you from coming to London, for whether
you have the constitution of a horse or a man, you will be
equally in danger. All the horses in town are laid up with sore
throats and colds, and are so hoarse you cannot hear them speak,
I, with all my immortality, have been -half killed; that violent
bitter weather was too much for me; I have had a nervous fever
these six or seven weeks every night, and have taken bark enough
to have made a rind for Daphne; nay, have even stayed at home two
days; but I think my eternity begins to bud again. I am quite of
Dr. Garth's mind, who, when any body commended a hard frost to
him, used to reply, "Yes, Sir, 'fore Gad, very fine weather, Sir,
very wholesome weather, Sir; kills trees, Sir; very good for man,
Sir." There has been cruel havoc among the ladies; my Lady Granby
is dead; and the famous Polly, Duchess of Bolton, and my Lady
Besborough. I have no great reason to lament the last, and yet
the circumstances of her death, and the horror of it to her
family, make one shudder. It was the same sore throat and fever
that carried off four of their children a few years ago. My lord
now fell ill of it, very ill, and the eldest daughter slightly:
my lady caught it, attending her husband, and concealed it as
long as she could. When at last the physician insisted on her
keeping her bed, she said, as she went into her room, "Then, Lord
have mercy on me! I shall never come out of it again," and died
in three days. Lord Besborough grew outrageously impatient at
not seeing her, and would have forced into her room, when she had
been dead about four days. They were obliged to tell him the
truth: never was an answer that expressed so much horror! he
said, "And how many children have I left?"not knowing how far
this calamity might have reached. Poor Lady Coventry is near
completing this black list.
You have heard, I suppose, a horrid story of another kind, of
Lord Ferrers murdering his steward in the most barbarous and
deliberate manner. He sent away all his servants but one, and,
like that heroic murderess Queen Christina, carried the poor man
through a gallery and several rooms, locking them after him, and
then bid the man kneel down, for he was determined to kill him.
The poor creature flung himself at his feet, but in vain; was
shot, and lived twelve hours. Mad as this action was from the
consequences, there was no frenzy in his behaviour; he got drunk,
and, at intervals, talked of it coolly; but did not attempt to
escape, till the colliers beset his house, and were determined to
take him alive or dead. He is now in the gaol at Leicester, and
will soon be removed to the Tower, then to Westminster Hall, and
I suppose to Tower Hill; unless, as Lord Talbot prophesied in the
House of Lords, "Not being thought mad enough to be shut up, till
he had killed somebody, he will then be thought too mad to be
executed;" but Lord Talbot was no more honoured in his vocation,
than other prophets are in their own country.
As you seem amused with my entertainments, I will tell you how I
passed yesterday. A party was made to go to the Magdalen-house.
We met at Northumberland-house at five, and set off in four
coaches. Prince Edward, Colonel Brudenel his groom, Lady
Northumberland, Lady Mary Coke, Lady Carlisle, Miss Pelham, Lady
Hertford, Lord Beauchamp, Lord Huntingdon. old Bowman, and I.
This new convent is beyond Goodman's-fields, and I assure you
would content any Catholic alive. We were received by--oh!
first, a vast mob, for princes are not so common at that end of
the town as at this. Lord Hertford, at the head of the governors
with their white staves, met us at the door, and led the Prince
directly into the chapel, where, before the altar, was an
arm-chair for him, with a blue damask cushion, a prie-Dieu, and a
footstool of black cloth with gold nails. We set on forms near
him. There were Lord and Lady Dartmouth in the odour of
devotion, and many city ladies. The chapel is small and low, but
neat, hung with Gothic paper, and tablets of benefactions. At
the west end were enclosed the sisterhood, above an hundred and
thirty, all in grayish brown stuffs, broad handkerchiefs, and
flat straw hats, with a blue riband, pulled quite over their
faces. As soon as we entered the chapel, the organ played, and
the Magdalens sung a hymn in parts; you cannot imagine how well,
The chapel was dressed with orange and myrtle, and there wanted
nothing but a little incense to drive away the devil-or to invite
him. Prayers then began, psalms, and a sermon: the latter by a
young clergyman, one Dodd,(22) who contributed to the Popish idea
one had imbibed, by haranguing entirely in the French style, and
very eloquently and touchingly. He apostrophized the lost sheep,
who sobbed and cried from their souls; so did my Lady Hertford
and Fanny Pelham, till I believe the city dames took them both
for Jane Shores. The confessor then turned to the audience, and
addressed himself to his Royal Highness, whom he called most
illustrious Prince, beseeching his protection. In short, it was
a very pleasing performance, and I got the most illustrious to
desire it might be printed. We had another hymn, and then were
conducted to the parloir, where the governors kissed the Prince's
hand, and then the lady abbess, or matron, brought us tea. From
thence we went to the refectory, where all the nuns, without
their hats, were ranged at long tables, ready for supper. A few
were handsome, many who seemed to have no title to their
profession, and two or three of twelve years old; but all
recovered, and looking healthy. I was struck and pleased with
the modesty of two of them, who swooned away with the confusion
of being stared at. We were then shown their work, which is
making linen, and bead-work; they earn ten pounds a-week. One
circumstance diverted me, but amidst all this decorum, I kept it
to myself. The wands of the governors are white, but twisted at
top with black and white, which put me in mind of Jacob's rods,
that he placed before the cattle to make them breed. My Lord
Hertford would never have forgiven me, if I had joked on this; so
I kept my countenance very demurely, nor even inquired, whether
among the pensioners there were any novices from Mrs. Naylor's.
The court-martial on Lord George Sackville is appointed: General
Onslow is to be Speaker of it. Adieu! till I see you; I am glad
it will be so soon.
(22) The unfortunate Dr. Dodd, who suffered at Tyburn, in June
1770, for forgery.-E.
Letter 12 To Sir David Dalrymple.(23)
Strawberry Hill, Feb. 3, 1760. (page 40)
I am much obliged to you, Sir! for the Irish poetry.(24) they
are poetry, and resemble that of the East; that is, they contain
natural images and natural sentiment elevated, before rules were
invented to make poetry difficult and dull. The transitions are
as sudden as those in Pindar, but not so libertine; for they
start into new thoughts on the subject, without wandering from
it.' I like particularly the expression of calling Echo, "Son of
the Rock." The Monody is much the best.
I (cannot say I am surprised to hear that the controversy on the
Queen of Scots is likely to continue. Did not somebody write a
defence of Nero, and yet none of his descendants remained to
pretend to the empire? If Dr. Robertson could have said more, I
am sorry it will be forced from him. He had better have said it
voluntarily. You will forgive me for thinking his subject did
not demand it. Among the very few objections to his charming
work, one was, that he seemed to excuse that Queen more than was
allowable, from the very papers he has printed in his Appendix;
and some have thought, that though he could not disculpate her,
he has diverted indignation from her, by his art in raising up
pity for her and resentment against her persecutress, and by much
overloading the demerits of Lord Darnley. For my part, Dr.
Mackenzie, or any body else, may write what they please against
me: I meaned to speak my mind, not to write controversy-trash
seldom read but by the two opponents who write it. Yet were I
inclined to reply, like Dr. Robertson, I could say a little more.
You have mentioned, Sir, Mr. Dyer's Fleece. I own I think it a
very insipid poem.(25) His Ruins of Rome had great picturesque
spirit, and his Grongar Hill was beautiful. His Fleece I could
never get through; and from thence I suppose never heard of Dr.
Mackenzie.
Your idea of a collection of ballads for the cause of liberty is
very public-spirited. I wish, Sir, I could say I thought it
would answer your view. Liberty, like other good and bad
principles, can never be taught the people but when it is taught
them by faction. The mob will never sing lilibullero but in
opposition to some other mob. However, if you pursue the
thought, there is an entire treasure of that kind in the library
of Maudlin College, Cambridge. It was collected by Pepys,
secretary of the admiralty, and dates from the battle of
Agincourt. Give me leave to say, Sir, that it is very
comfortable to me to find gentlemen of your virtue and parts
attentive to what is so little the object of public attention
now. The extinction of faction, that happiness to which we owe
so much of our glory and success, may not be without some
inconveniences. A free nation, perhaps, especially when arms are
become so essential to our existence as a free people, may want a
little opposition: as it is a check that has preserved us so
long, one cannot wholly think it dangerous; and though I would
not be one to tap new resistance to a government with which I
have no fault to find, yet it may not be unlucky hereafter, if
those who do not wish so well to it, would a little show
themselves. They are not strong enough to hurt; they may be of
service by keeping ministers in awe. But all this is
speculation, and flowed from the ideas excited in me by your
letter, that is full of benevolence both to public and private.
Adieu! Sir; believe that nobody has more esteem for you than is
raised by each letter.
(23) Now first collected.
(24) "Fragments of Ancient Poetry, collected in the Highlands of
Scotland, and translated from the Gaelic, or Erse Language," the
production of James Macpherson; the first presentation to the
world of that literary novelty, which was afterwards to excite so
much discussion and dissension in the literary world.-E.
(25) Dr. Johnson was pretty much of Walpole's opinion. "Of The
Fleece," he says, "which never became popular, and is now
universally neglected, I can say little that is likely to call it
to attention. The woolcomber and the poet appear to me such
discordant natures, that an attempt to bring them together is to
couple the serpent with the fowl."-E.
Letter 13 To Sir Horace Mann.
Strawberry Hill, Feb. 3, 1760 (page 41)
herculaneum is arrived; Caserta(26) is arrived: what magnificence
You Send me! My dear Sir, I can but thank you, and thank you--
oh! yes, I can do more; greedy creature, I can put you in mind,
that you must take care to send me the subsequent volumes of
Herculaneum as they appear, if ever they do appear, which I
suppose is doubtful now that King Carlos(27) is gone to Spain.
One thing pray observe, that I don't beg these scarce books of
you, as a bribe to spur me on to obtain for you your
extra-extraordinaries. Mr. Chute and I admire Caserta; and he at
least is no villanous judge of architecture; some of our English
travellers abuse it; but there are far from striking faults: the
general idea seems borrowed from Inigo Jones's Whitehall, though
without the glaring uglinesses, which I believe have been lent to
Inigo; those plans, I think, were supplied by Lord Burlington,
Kent, and others, to very imperfect sketches of the author. Is
Caserta finished and furnished? Were not the treasures of
Herculaneum to be deposited there?
I am in the vein of drawing upon your benevolence, and shall
proceed. Young Mr. Pitt,(28) nephew of the Pitt, is setting out
for Lisbon with Lord Kinnoul, and will proceed through Granada to
Italy, with his friend Lord Strathmore;(29) not the son, I
believe, of that poor mad Lady Strathmore(30) whom you remember
at Florence. The latter is much commended; I don't know him: Mr.
Pitt is not only a most ingenious Young man, but a most amiable
one: he has already acted in the most noble style-I don't mean
that he took a quarter of Quebec, or invaded a bit of France, or
has spoken in the House of Commons better than DemostheneS'S
nephew: but he has an odious father, and has insisted on glorious
cuttings off of entails on himself, that his father's debts might
be paid and his sisters provided for. My own lawyer,(31) who
knew nothing of my being acquainted with him, spoke to me of him
in raptures--no small merit in a lawyer to comprehend virtue in
cutting off an entail when it was not to cheat; but indeed this
lawyer was recommended to me by your dear brother --no wonder he
is honest. You will now conceive that a letter I have given Mr.
Pitt is not a mere matter of form, but an earnest suit to you to
know one you will like so much. I should indeed have given it
him, were it only to furnish you with an opportunity of
ingratiating yourself with Mr. Pitt's nephew: but I address him
to your heart. Well! but I have heard of another honest lawyer!
The famous Polly, Duchess of Bolton,(32) is dead, having, after a
life of merit, relapsed into her Pollyhood. Two years ago, at
Tunbridge, she picked up an Irish surgeon. When she was dying,
this fellow sent for a lawyer to make her will, but the man,
finding who was to be her heir, instead of her children, refused
to draw it. The Court of Chancery did furnish one other, not
quite so scrupulous, and her three sons have but a thousand
pounds apiece; the surgeon about nine thousand.
I think there is some glimmering of peace! God send the world
some repose from its woes! The King of Prussia has writ to
Belleisle to desire the King of France will make peace for him:
no injudicious step, as the distress of France will make them
glad to oblige him. We have no other news, but that Lord George
Sackville has at last obtained a court-martial. I doubt much
whether he will find his account in it. One thing I know I
dislike-a German aide-de-camp is to be an evidence! Lord George
has paid the highest compliment to Mr. Conway's virtue. Being
told, as an unlucky circumstance for him, that Mr. Conway was to
be one of his judges, (but It is not so,) he replied, there was
no man in England he should so soon desire of that number. And
it is no mere compliment, for Lord George has excepted against
another of them--but he knew whatever provocation he may have
given to Mr. Conway, whatever rivalship there has been between
them, nothing could bias the integrity of the latter. There is
going to be another court-martial on a mad Lord Charles Hay,(33)
who has foolishly demanded it; but it will not occupy the
attention of the world like Lord George's. There will soon be
another trial of another sort on another madman, an Earl Ferrers,
who has murdered his steward. He was separated by Parliament
from his wife, a very pretty woman, whom he married with no
fortune, for the most groundless barbarity, and now killed his
steward for having been evidence for her; but his story and
person are too wretched and despicable to give you the detail.
He will be dignified by a solemn trial in Westminster-hall.
Don't you like the impertinence of the Dutch? They have lately
had a mudquake, and giving themselves terrafirma airs, call it an
earthquake! Don't you like much more our noble national charity?
Above two thousand pounds has been raised in London alone,
besides what is collected in the country, for the French
prisoners, abandoned by their monarch. Must not it make the
Romans blush in their Appian-way, who dragged their prisoners in
triumph? What adds to this benevolence is, that we cannot
contribute to the subsistence of our own prisoners in France;
they conceal where they keep them, and use them cruelly to make
them enlist. We abound in great charities: the distress of war
seems to heighten rather than diminish them. There is a new one,
not quite so certain of its answering, erected for those wretched
women, called abroad les filles repenties. I was there the other
night, and fancied myself in a convent.
The Marquis of Buckingham and Earl Temple are to have the two
vacant garters to-morrow. Adieu!
Arlington Street, 6th.
I am this minute come to town, and find yours of Jan. 12. Pray,
my dear child, don't compliment me any more upon my learning;
there is nobody so superficial. Except a little history, a
little poetry, a little painting, and some divinity, I know
nothing. How should I? I, who have always lived in the big busy
world; who lie abed all the morning, calling it morning as long
as you please; who sup in company; who have played at pharaoh
half my life, and now at loo till two and three in the morning;
who have always loved pleasure haunted auctions--in short, who
don't know so much astronomy as would carry me to Knightsbridge,
nor more physic than a physician, nor in short any thing that is
called science. If it were not that I lay up a little provision
in summer, like the ant, I should be as ignorant as all the
people I live with. How I have LAUGHED when some of the
magazines have called me the learned gentleman! Pray don't be
like THE Magazines.
I see by your letter that you despair of peace; I almost do:
there is but a gruff sort of answer from the woman of' Russia
to-day in the papers; but how should there be peace? If We are
victorious, what is the King of Prussia? Will the distress of
France move the Queen of Hungary? When we do make peace, how few
will it content! The war was made for America, but the peace
will be made for Germany; and whatever geographers may pretend,
Crown-point lies somewhere in Westphalia. Again adieu! I don't
like your rheumatism, and much less your plague.
(26) Prints of the palace of Caserta.
(27) Don Carlos, King of Naples, who succeeded his half-brother
Ferdinand in the crown of Spain. An interesting picture of the
court of the King of the Two Sicilies at the time of his leaving
Naples, will be found in the Chatham Correspondence, in a letter
from Mr. Stanier Porten to Mr. Pitt. See vol. ii. p. 31.-E.
(28) Thomas, only son of Thomas Pitt of boconnock, eldest brother
of the famous William Pitt. [Afterwards Lord Camelford. (Gray,
in a letter to Dr. Wharton, of the 23d of January, says, "Mr.
Pitt (not the great, but the little one, my acquaintance) is
setting out on his travels. He goes with my Lord Kinnoul to
Lisbon; then (by sea still) to Cates; then up the Guadalquiver to
Seville and Cordova, and so perhaps to Toledo, but certainly to
Grenada; and, after breathing the perfumed air of Andalusia, and
contemplating the remains of Moorish magnificence, re-embarks at
Gibraltar or Malaga, and sails to Genoa. Sure an extraordinary
good way of passing a few winter months, and better than dragging
through Holland, Germany, and Switzerland, to the same place." A
copy of Mr. Thomas Pitt's manuscript Diary of his tour to Spain
and Portugal is in the possession of Mr. Bentley, the proprietor
of this Correspondence.-E.]
(29) John Lyon, ninth Earl of Strathmore. He married in 1767
Miss Bowes, the great heiress, whose disgraceful adventures are
so well known.-D.
(30) Lady Strathmore, rushing between her husband and a
gentleman, with whom he had quarrelled and was fighting, and
trying to hold the former, the other stabbed him in her -arms, on
which she went mad, though not enough to be confined.
(31) His name was Dagge.
(32) Miss Fenton, the first Polly of the Beggar's Opera. Charles
Duke of Bolton took her off the stage, had children by her, and
afterwards married her.
(33) Lord Charles Hay, brother of the Marquis of Tweedale.
Letter 14 To The Rev. Henry Zouch.
Strawberry Hill, February 4th, 1760. (page 44)
Sir,
I deferred answering your last, as I was in hopes of BEING able
to send you a SHEET or two of my new work, but I find so many
difficulties and so much darkness attending the beginning, that I
can scarce say I have begun. I can only say in general, that I
do not propose to go further back than I have sure footing; that
is, I shall commence with what Vertue had collected from our
records, which, with regard to painting, do not date before Henry
III.; and then from him there is a gap to Henry VII. I shall
supply that with a little chronology of intervening paintings,
THOUGH, hitherto, I can find none of the two first Edwards. From
Henry VIII. there will be a regular succession of painters, short
lives of whom I am enabled by Vertue's MSS. to write, and I shall
connect them historically. I by no means Mean to touch on
foreign Artists, unless they came over hither; but they are
essential, for we had scarce any others tolerable. I propose to
begin with the anecdotes of painting only, because, in that
branch, my materials are by far most considerable. If I shall be
able to publish this part, perhaps it may induce persons of
curiosity and knowledge to assist me in the darker parts of the
story touching our architects, statuaries, and engravers. But it
is from the same kind friendship which has assisted me so
liberally already, that I expect to draw most information; need I
specify, Sir, that I mean yours, when the various hints in your
last letter speak so plainly for me?
It is a pleasure to have any body one esteems agree with one's
own sentiments, as you do strongly with mine about Mr. Hurd.(34)
It is impossible not to own that he has sense and great
knowledge--but sure he is a most disagreeable writer! He loads
his thoughts with so many words, and those couched in so hard a
style, and so void of all veracity, that I have no patience to
read him. In one point. in the dialogues you mention, he is
perfectly ridiculous. He takes infinite pains to make the world
believe, upon his word, that they are the genuine productions of
the speakers, and yet does not give himself the least trouble to
counterfeit the style of any one of them. What was so easy as to
imitate Burnet? In his other work, the notes on Horace, he is
still more absurd. He cries up Warburton's preposterous notes on
Shakspeare, which would have died of their own folly, though Mr.
Edwards had not put them to death with the keenest wit in the
world.(35) But what signifies any sense, when it takes Warburton
for a pattern, who, with much greater parts, has not been able to
save himself from, or rather has affectedly involved himself in
numberless absurdities?--who proved Moses's legation by the sixth
book of Virgil;--a miracle (Julian's Earthquake), by proving it
was none;--and who explained a recent poet (Pope) by metaphysical
notes, ten times more obscure than the text! As if writing were
come to perfection, Warburton and Hurd are going back again; and
since commentators, obscurity, paradoxes, and visions have been
so long exploded, ay, and pedantry too, they seem to think that
they shall have merit by reviving what was happily forgotten -,
and yet these men have their followers, by that balance which
compensates to one for what he misses from another. When an
author writes clearly, he is imitated; and when obscurely, he is
admired. Adieu!
(34) Who died Bishop of Worcester in 1808. He was the author of
many works, most of which are now little read, although they had
a great vogue in their day. There is a great deal of justice in
Mr. Walpole's criticism of him and his patron.-C.
(35) In the "Canons of Criticism."--E.
Letter 15 To Sir Horace Mann.
Arlington Street, Feb. 28, 1760. (page 45)
The next time you see Marshal Botta, and are to act King of Great
Britain, France, and Ireland, you must abate about an hundredth
thousandth part of the dignity of your crown. You are no more
monarch of all Ireland, than King O'Neil, or King Macdermoch is.
Louis XV. is sovereign of France, Navarre, and Carrickfergus.
You will be mistaken if you think the peace is made, and that we
cede this Hibernian town, in order to recover Minorca, or to keep
Quebec and Louisbourg. To be sure, it is natural you should
think so: how should so victorious and heroic nation cease to
enjoy any of its possessions, but to save Christian blood? Oh! I
know, you will suppose there has been another insurrection, and
that it is King John(36) of Bedford, and not King George of
Brunswick, that has lost this town. Why, I own you are a great
politician, and see things in a moment-and no wonder, considering
how long you have been employed in negotiations; but for once all
your sagacity is mistaken. Indeed, considering the total
destruction of the maritime force of France, and that the great
mechanics and mathematicians of this age have not invented a
flying bridge to fling over the sea and land from the coast of
France to the north of Ireland, it was not easy to conceive how
the French should conquer Carrickfergus--and yet they have. But
how I run on! not reflecting that by this time the old Pretender
must have hobbled through Florence on his way to Ireland, to take
possession of this scrap of his recovered domains; but I may as
well tell you at once, for to be sure you and the loyal body of
English in Tuscany will slip over all this exordium to come to
the account of so extraordinary a revolution. Well, here it is.
Last week Monsieur Thurot--oh! now you are au fait!--Monsieur
Thurot, as I was saying, landed last week in the isle of Islay,
the capital province belonging to a great Scotch King,(37) who is
so good as generally to pass the winter with his friends here in
London. Monsieur Thurot had three ships, the crews of which
burnt two ships belonging to King George, and a house belonging
to his friend the King of Argyll--pray don't mistake; by his
friend(38) I mein King George's, not Thurot's friend. When they
had finished this campaign, they sailed to Carrickfergus, a
poorish town, situated in the heart of the Protestant cantons.
They immediately made a moderate demand of about twenty articles
of provisions, promising to pay for them; for you know it is the
way of modern invasions(39) to make them cost as much as possible
to oneself, and as little to those one invades. If this was not
complied with, they threatened to burn the town, and then march
to Belfast, which is much richer. We were sensible of this civil
proceedings and not to be behindhand, agreed to it; but somehow
or other this capitulation was broken; on which a detachment (the
whole invasion consists of one thousand men) attack the place.
We shut the gates, but after the battle of Quebec it is
impossible that so great a people should attend to such trifles
as locks and bolts, accordingly there were none--and as if there
were no gates neither, the two armies fired through them--if this
is a blunder, remember I am describing an Irish war. I forgot to
give you the numbers of the Irish army. It consisted but Of
seventy-two, under lieut.-colonel Jennings, a wonderful brave
man--too brave, in short, to be very judicious. Unluckily our
ammunition was soon spent, for it is not above a year that there
have been any apprehensions for Ireland, and as all that part of
the country are most protestantly loyal, it was not thought
necessary to arm people who would fight till they die for their
religion. When the artillery was silenced, the garrison thought
the best way of saving the town was by flinging it at the heads
of the besiegers; accordingly they poured volleys of brickbats at
the French, whose commander, Monsieur Flobert, was mortally
knocked down, and his troops began to give way. However, General
Jennings thought it most prudent to retreat to the castle, and
the French again advanced. Four or five raw recruits still
bravely kept the gates, when the garrison, finding no more
gunpowder in the castle than they had had in the town, and not
near so good a brick-kiln, sent to desire to surrender. General
Thurot accordingly made them prisoners of war, and plundered the
town.