(152) William Gerard Hamilton, commonly called Single-speech
Hamilton, was, on the appointment of Lord Halifax to the
viceroyalty of Ireland, selected as his secretary, and was
accompanied thither by the celebrated Edmund Burke, partly as a
friend and partly as his private secretary.-E.
(153) The celebrated empiric, see ant`e, p. 37, letter 10. His
drops were first introduced in 1732, by Sir Thomas Robinson; upon
which occasion, Sir C. H. Williams addressed to him his poem,
commencing,
"Say, knight, for learning most renown'd,
What is this wondrous drop?"-E.
Letter 74 To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street, April 28, 1761. (page 122)
I am glad you will relish June for Strawberry; by that time I
hope the weather will have recovered its temper. At present it
is horridly cross and uncomfortable; I fear we shall have a cold
season; we cannot eat our summer and have our summer.
There has been a terrible fire in the little traverse street, at
the upper end of Sackville Street. Last Friday night, between
eleven and twelve, I was sitting with Lord Digby in the
coffee-room at Arthur's; they told us there was a great fire
somewhere about Burlington Gardens. I, who am as constant at a
fire as George Selwyn at an execution, proposed to Lord Digby to
go and see where it was. We found it within two doors of that
pretty house of Fairfax, now General Waldegrave's. I sent for
the latter, who was at Arthur's; and for the guard, from St.
James's. Four houses were in flames before they could find a
drop of water; eight were burnt. I went to my Lady Suffolk, in
Saville Row, and passed the whole night, till three in the
morning, between her little hot bedchamber and the spot up to my
ancles in water, without catching cold.(154) As the wind, which
had sat towards Swallow Street, changed in the middle of the
conflagration, I concluded the greater part of Saville Row would
be consumed. I persuaded her to prepare to transport her most
valuable effects--"portantur avari Pygmalionis opes miserae."
She behaved with great composure, and observed to me herself how
much worse her deafness grew with the alarm. Half the people of
fashion in town were in the streets all night, as it happened in
such a quarter of distinction. In the crowd, looking on with
great tranquillity, I saw a Mr. Jackson, an Irish gentleman, with
whom I had dined this winter, at Lord Hertford's. He seemed
rather grave; I said, "Sir, I hope you do not live hereabouts."
"Yes, Sir," said he, "I lodged in that house that is Just burnt."
Last night there was a mighty ball at Bedford-house; the royal
Dukes and Princess Emily were there; your lord-lieutenant, the
great lawyer, lords, and old Newcastle, whose teeth are tumbled
out, and his mouth tumbled in; hazard very deep; loo, beauties,
and the Wilton Bridge in sugar, almost as big as the life. I am
glad all these joys are near going out of town. The Graftons go
abroad for the Duchess's health; Another climate may mend that--I
will not answer for more. Adieu! Yours ever.
(154) This accident was owing to a coachman carrying a lighted
candle into the stable, and, agreeably to Dean Swift's Advice to
Servants, sticking it against the rack; the straw being set in a
flame in his absence, by the candle falling. Eight or nine
horses perished, and fourteen houses were burnt to the ground.
Walpole was, most probably, not an idle spectator for the
newspapers relate, that the "gentlemen in the neighbourhood,
together with their servants, formed a ring, kept off the mob,
and handed the goods and movables from one another, till they
secured them in a place of safety; a noble instance of
neighbourly respect and kindness."-E.
Letter 75 To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street, May 5, 1761. (page 123)
We have lost a young genius, Sir William Williams;(155) an
express from Belleisle, arrived this morning, brings nothing but
his death. He was shot very unnecessarily, riding too near a
battery; in sum, he is a sacrifice to his own rashness, and to
ours. For what are we taking Belleisle? I rejoiced at the little
loss we had on landing; for the glory, I leave it to the common
council. I am very willing to leave London to them too, and do
pass half the week at Strawberry, where my two passions, lilacs
and nightingales, are in full bloom. I spent Sunday as if it
were Apollo's birthday -. Gray and Mason were with me, and we
listened to the nightingales till one o'clock in the morning.
Gray has translated two noble incantations from the Lord knows
who, a Danish Gray, who lived the Lord knows when. They are to
be enchased in a history of English bards, which Mason and he are
Writing; but of which the former has not written a word yet, and
of which the latter, if he rides Pegasus at his usual foot-pace,
will finish the first page two years hence.
But the true frantic OEstus resides at present with Mr. Hogarth;
I went t'other morning to see a portrait he is painting of Mr.
Fox. Hogarth told me he had promised, if Mr. Fox would sit as he
liked, to make as good a picture as Vandyke or Rubens could. I
was silent--"Why now," said he, "you think this very vain, but
why should not one speak the truth?" This truth was uttered in
the face of his own Sigismonda, which is exactly a maudlin w----,
tearing off the trinkets that her keeper had given her, to fling
at his head. She has her father's picture in a bracelet on her
arm, and her fingers are bloody with the heart, as if she had
just bought a sheep's pluck in St. James's Market. As I was
going, Hogarth put on a very grave face, and said, "Mr. Walpole,
I want to speak to you." I sat down, and said I was ready to
receive his commands. For shortness, I will mark this wonderful
dialogue by initial letters.
H. I am told you are going to entertain the town with something
in our way. W. Not very soon, Mr. Hogarth. H. I wish you would
let me have it to correct; I should be very sorry to have you
expose yourself to censure; we painters must know more of those
things than other people. W. Do you think nobody understands
painting but painters? H. Oh! so far from it, there's Reynolds,
who certainly has genius; why but t'other day he offered a
hundred pounds for a picture, that I would not hang in my cellar;
and indeed, to say truth I have generally found, that persons who
had studied painting least were the best judges of it; but what I
particularly wished to say to you was about Sir James Thornhill
(you know he married Sir James' daughter): I would not have you
say any thing against him; there was a book published some time
ago, abusing him, and it gave great offence. He was the first
that attempted history in England, and, I assure you, some
Germans have said that he was a very great painter. W. My work
will go no lower than the year one thousand seven hundred, and I
really have not considered whether Sir J. Thornhill will come
within my plan or not; if he does, I fear you and I shall not
agree upon his merits. H. I wish you would let me correct it;
besides; I am writing something of the same kind myself; I should
be sorry we should clash. W. I believe it is not much known what
my work is, very few persons have seen it. H. Why, it is a
critical history of painting , is it not? W. No, it is an
antiquarian history of it in England; I bought Mr. Vertue's MSS.
and, I believe, the work will not give much offence; besides, if
it does, I cannot help it: when I publish any thing, I give it to
the world to think of it as they please. H. Oh! if it is an
antiquarian work, we shall not clash; mine is a critical work; I
don't know whether I shall ever publish it. It is rather an
apology for painters. I think it is owing to the good sense of
the English that they have not painted better. W. My dear Mr.
Hogarth, I must take my leave of you, you now grow too wild--and
I left him. If I had stayed, there remained nothing but for him
to bite me. I give you my honour, this conversation is literal,
and, perhaps, as long as you have known Englishmen and painters,
You never met with any thing so distracted. I had consecrated a
line to his genius (I mean, for wit) in my preface; I shall not
erase it; but I hope nobody will ask me if he is not mad. Adieu!
(155) Sir William Pere Williams, Bart. member for Shoreham, and a
captain in Burgoyne's Dragoons. He was killed in reconnoitring
before Belleisle. Gray wrote his epitaph, at the request of Mr.
Frederick Montagu, who intended to have it inscribed on a
monument at Belleisle:--
"Here, foremost in the dangerous paths of fame,
Young Williams fought for England's fair renown;
His mind each Muse, each Grace adornd his frame,
Nor Envy dared to view him with a frown," etc.-E.
Letter 76 To George Montagu, Esq.
Strawberry Hill, May, 14, 1761. (page 125)
As I am here, and know nothing of our poor heroes at Belleisle,
who are combating rocks, mines, famine, and Mr. Pitt's obstinacy,
I will send you the victory of a heroine, but must preface it
with an apology, as it was gained over a sort of relation of
yours. Jemmy Lumley last week had a party of whist at his own
house; the combatants, Lucy Southwell, that curtseys like a bear,
Mrs. Prijean, and a Mrs. Mackenzy. They played from six In the
evening till twelve next day; Jemmy never winning one rubber, and
rising a loser of two thousand pounds. How it happened I know
not, nor why his suspicions arrived so late, but he fancied
himself cheated, and refused to pay. However, the bear had no
share in his evil surmises: on the contrary, a day or two
afterwards, he promised a dinner at Hampstead to Lucy and her
virtuous sister. As he went to the rendezvous his chaise was
stopped by somebody, who advised him not to proceed. Yet no whit
daunted, he advanced. In the garden he found The gentle
conqueress, Mrs. MacKenzy, Who accosted him in the most friendly
manner. After a few compliments, she asked if he did not intend
to pay her. "No, indeed I shan't, I shan't; your servant, your
servant."--"Shan't you?" said the fair virago; and taking a
horsewhip from beneath her hoop, she fell upon him with as much
vehemence as the Empress-queen would upon the King of Prussia, if
she could catch him alone in the garden at Hampstead. Jemmy
cried out murder; his servant,- rushed in, rescued him from the
jaws of the lioness, and carried him off in his chaise to town.
The Southwells, were already arrived, and descended on the noise
of the fray, finding nobody to pay for the dinner, and fearing
they must, set out for London too without it, though I suppose
they had prepared tin pockets to carry off all that should be
left. Mrs. Mackenzy is immortal, and in the crown-office.(156)
The other battle in my military journal happened between the
Duchess of Argyle and Lord Vere. The Duchess, who always talks
of puss and pug, and who, having lost her memory, forgets how
often she tells the same story, had tired the company at
Dorset-house with the repetition of the same story; when the
Duke's spaniel reached up into her lap, and placed his nose most
critically: "See," said she, "see, how fond all creatures are of
me." Lord Vere, who was at cards, and could not attend to them
for her gossiping, said peevishly, without turning round or
seeing where the dog was, "I suppose he smells PUSS." "What!"
said the Duchess of Argyle, in a passion, "Do you think my puss
stinks?" I believe you have not two better stories in
Northamptonshire.
Don't imagine that my gallery will be prance-about-in-able, as
you expect, by the beginning of June; I do not propose to finish
it till next year, but you will see some glimpse of it, and for
the rest of Strawberry, it never was more beautiful, You must now
begin to fix your motions: I go to Lord Dacre's at the end of
this month, and to Lord Ilchester's the end of the next; between
those periods I expect you.
Saturday morning, Arlington Street.
I came to town yesterday for a party at Bedford-house, made for
Princess Amelia; the garden was open, with French horns and
clarionets, and would have been charming with one single zephyr,
that had not come from the northeast; however, the young ladies
found it delightful. There was limited loo for the Princess,
unlimited for the Duchess of Grafton, to whom I belonged, a table
of quinze, and another of quadrille. The Princess ha(f heard of
our having cold meat upon the loo-table, and would have some. A
table was brought in, she was served so, others rose by turns and
went to the cold meat; in the outward room were four little
tables for the rest of the company. Think, if King George the
Second could have risen and seen his daughter supping pell-mell
with men, as if it were in a booth! The tables were removed, the
young people began to dance to a tabor and pipe; the Princess sat
down again, but to unlimited loo; we played till three, and I won
enough to help on the gallery. I am going back to it, to give my
nieces and their lords a dinner.
We were told there was a great victory come from Pondicherry, but
it came from too far to divert us from liking our party better.
Poor George Monson has lost his leg there. You know that Sir W.
Williams has made Fred. Montagu heir to his debts. Adieu!
(156) "Sure Mr. Jonathan, or some one, has told you how your good
friend Mr. L. has been horsewhippcd, trampled, bruised, and p--d
upon, by a Mrs. Mackenzie, a sturdy Scotchwoman. it was done in
an inn-yard at Hampstead, in the face of day, and he has put her
in the crown-office. it is very true." Gray to Wharton.
Letter 77 To The Countess Of Ailesbury.
Strawberry Hill, June 13, 1761. (page 126)
I never ate such good snuff, nor smelt such delightful bonbons,
as your ladyship has sent me. Every time you rob the Duke's
dessert, does it cost you a pretty snuff-box? Do the pastors at
the Hague(157) enjoin such expensive retributions? If a man
steals a kiss there, I suppose he does penance in a sheet of
Brussels lace. The comical part is, that you own the theft, ind
sending me, but say nothing of the vehicle of your repentance.
In short, Madam, the box is the prettiest thing I ever saw, and I
give you a thousand thanks for it.
When you comfort yourself about the operas, you don't know what
you have lost; nay, nor I neither; for I was here, concluding
that a serenata for a birthday would be -is dull and as vulgar as
those festivities generally are: but I hear of nothing but the
enchantment of it.(158) There was a second orchestra in the
footman's gallery, disguised by clouds, and filled with the music
of the King'S chapel. The choristers behaved like angels, and
the harmony between the two bands was in the most exact time.
Elisi piqued himself, and beat both heaven and earth. The joys
of the year do not end there. The under-actors open at
Drury-lane to-night with a new comedy by Murphey, called "All in
the Wrong."(159) At Ranelagh, all is fireworks and skyrockets.
The birthday exceeded the splendour of Haroun Alraschid and the
Arabian Nights, when people had nothing to do but to scour a
lantern and send a genie for a hamper of diamonds and rubies. Do
you remember one of those stories, where a prince has eight
statues of diamonds, which he overlooks, because he fancies he
wants a ninth; and to his great surprise the ninth proves to be
pure flesh and blood, which he never thought of? Some how or
other, Lady Sarah(160 is the ninth statue; and, you will allow,
has better white and red than if she was made of pearls and
rubies. Oh! I forgot, I was telling you of the birthday: my Lord
P * * * * had drunk the King's health so often at dinner, that at
the ball he took Mrs. * * * * for a beautiful woman, and, as she
says, "made an improper use of his hands." The proper use of
hers, she thought, was to give him a box on the ear, though
within the verge of the court. He returned it by a push, and she
tumbled off the end of the bench; which his Majesty has accepted
as sufficient punishment, and she is not to lose her right
hand.(161)
I enclose the list your ladyship desired: you will see that the
Plurality of Worlds" are Moore's, and of some I do not know the
authors. ' There is a late edition with these names to them.
My duchess was to set out this morning. I saw her for the last
time the day before yesterday at Lady Kildare's: never was a
journey less a party of pleasure. She was so melancholy, that
all Miss Pelham's oddness and my spirits could scarce make her
smile. Towards the end of the night, and that was three in the
morning, I did divert her a little. I slipped Pam into her lap,
and then taxed her with having it there. She was quite
confounded; but, taking it up, saw he had a Telescope in his
hand, which I had drawn, and that the card, which was split, and
just waxed together, contained these lines:
"Ye simple astronomers, lay by your glasses;
The transit of Venus has proved you all asses:
Your telescopes signify nothing to scan it;
'Tis not meant in the clouds, 'tis not meant of a planet:
The seer who foretold it mistook or deceives us,
For Venus's transit is when Grafton leaves us."
I don't send your ladyship these verses as good, but to show you
that all gallantry does not centre at the Hague.
I wish I could tell you that Stanley(162) and Bussy, by crossing
over and figuring in, had forwarded the peace. It is no more
made than Belleisle is taken. However, I flatter myself that you
will not stay abroad till you return for the coronation, which is
ordered for the beginning of October. I don't care to tell you
how lovely the season is; how my acacias are powdered with
flowers, and my hay just in its picturesque moment. Do they ever
make any other hay in Holland than bulrushes in ditches? My new
buildings rise so swiftly, that I shall have not a shilling left,
so far from giving commissions on Amsterdam. When I have made my
house so big that I don't know what to do with it, and am
entirely undone, I propose, like King Pyrrhus, who took such a
roundabout way to a bowl of punch, to sit down and enjoy myself;
but with this difference, that it is better to ruin one's self
than all the world. I am sure you would think as I do, though
Pyrrhus were King of Prussia. I long to have you bring back the
only hero that ever I could endure. Adieu, Madam! I sent you
just such another piece of tittle-tattle as this by General
Waldegrave: you are very partial to me, or very fond of knowing
every thing that passes in your own country, if you can be amused
so. If you can, 'tis surely my duty to divert you, though at the
expense of my character; for I own I am ashamed when I look back
and see four sides of paper scribbled over with nothings.
(157) Lady Ailesbury remained at the Hague while Mr. Conway was
with the army during the campaign in 1761.
(158) The music was by Cocchi. Dr. Burney says it was not
sufficiently admired to encourage the manager to perform it more
than twice.-E.
(159) 'This comedy, which came out in the summer-season at
Drury-lane, under the conduct of Foote and the author, met with
considerable success. Some of the hints are acknowledged to have
been borrowed from Moli`ere's "Cocu Imaginaire."-E.
(160) Lady Sarah Lenox.-E.
(161) The old punishment for giving a blow in the King's
presence.
(162) Mr. Hans Stanley was at this time employed in negotiating a
peace at Paris.-E.
Letter 78 To George Montagu, Esq.
Strawberry Hill, June 18, 1761. (page 128)
I am glad you will come on Monday, and hope you will arrive in a
rainbow and pair, to signify that we are not to be totally
drowned. It has rained incessantly, and floated all my new
works; I seem rather to be building a pond than a gallery. My
farm too is all under water, and what is vexatious, if Sunday had
not thrust itself between, I could have got in my hay on Monday.
As the parsons will let nobody else make hay on Sundays, I think
they ought to make it on that day themselves.
By the papers I see Mrs. Trevor Hampden is dead of the smallpox.
Will he be much concerned? If you will stay with me a fortnight
or three weeks, perhaps I may be able to carry you to a play of
Mr. Bentley's--you stare, but I am in earnest: nay, and de par le
roy. In short, here is the history of it. You know the passion
he always had for the Italian comedy; about two years ago he
wrote one, intending to get it offered to Rich, but without his
name. He would have died to be supposed an author, and writing
for gain. I kept this an inviolable secret. Judge then of my
surprise, when about a fortnight or three weeks ago, I found my
Lord Melcomb reading this very Bentleiad in a circle at my Lady
Hervey's. Cumberland had carried it to him with a recommendatory
copy of verses, containing more incense to the King and my Lord
Bute, than the magi brought in their portmanteaus to Jerusalem.
The idols were propitious, and to do them justice, there is a
great deal of wit in the piece, which is called "The Wishes, or
Harlequin's Mouth Opened."(163) A bank note of two hundred
pounds was sent from the treasury to the author, and the play
ordered to be performed by the summer company. Foote was
summoned to Lord Melcomb's, where Parnassus was composed of the
peer himself, who, like Apollo, as I am going to tell you, was
dozing, the two chief justices, and Lord B. Bubo read the play
himself, "with handkerchief and orange by his side." But the
curious part is a prologue, which I never saw. It represents the
god of verse fast asleep by the side of Helicon: the race of
modern bards try to wake him, but the more they repeat their
works, the louder he snores. At last "Ruin seize thee, ruthless
King!" is heard, and the god starts from his trance. This is a
good thought, but will offend the bards so much, that I think Dr.
Bentley's son will be abused at least @as much as his father was.
The prologue concludes with young Augustus, and how much he
excels the ancient one by the choice of his friend. Foote
refused to act this prologue, and said it was too strong.
"Indeed," said Augustus's friend, "I think it is." They have
softened it a little, and I suppose it will be performed. You
may depend upon the truth of all this; but what is much more
credible is, that the comely young author appears every night in
the Mall in a milk-white coat with a blue cape, disclaims any
benefit, and says he has done with the play now it is out of his
own hands, and that Mrs. Hannah Clio, alias Bentley, writ the
best scenes in it. He is going to write a tragedy, and she, I
suppose, is going--to court.
You will smile when I tell you that t'other day a party went to
Westminster Abbey, and among the rest saw the ragged regiment.
They inquired the names of the figures. "I don't know them," said
the man, "but if Mr. Walpole was here he could tell you every
one." Adieu! I expect Mr. John and you with impatience.
(163) This piece, founded on Fontaine's "Trois Souhaits," was
written in imitation of the Italian comedy; Harlequin, Pantaloon,
Columbine, etc. being introduced into it as speaking characters.
"Many parts of it," says the Biographia Dramatica, "exhibit very
just satire and solid sense, and give evident testimony of the
author's learning, knowledge, understanding, and critical
judgment; yet the deficiency of incident which appears in it, as
well as of that lively kind of wit which is one of the essentials
of perfect comedy, seem, in great measure, to justify that
coldness with which the piece was received by the town."-E.
Letter 79 To George Montagu, Esq.
Strawberry Hill, July 5, 1761. (page 130)
You are a pretty sort of a person to come to one's house and get
sick, only to have an excuse for not returning to it. Your
departure is so abrupt, that I don't know but I may expect to
find that Mrs. Jane Truebridge, whom you commend so much, and
call Mrs. Mary, will prove Mrs. Hannah. Mrs. Clive is still more
disappointed: she had proposed to play at quadrille with you from
dinner till supper, and to sing old Purcell to you from supper to
breakfast next morning.(164) If you cannot trust yourself from
Greatworth for a whole fortnight, how will you do in Ireland for
six months? Remember all my preachments, and never be in spirits
at supper. Seriously I am sorry you are out of order, but am
alarmed for you at Dublin, and though all the bench of bishops
should quaver Purcell's hymns, don't let them warble you into a
pint of wine. I wish you were going among catholic prelates, who
would deny you the cup. Think of me and resist temptation.
Adieu!
(164) Dr. Burney tells us, that Mrs. Clive's singing, "which was
intolerable when she meant to be fine, in ballad-farces and songs
of humour, was, like her comic acting, every thing it should
be."-E.
Letter 80 To The Earl Of Strafford.
Strawberry Hill, July 5, 1761. (page 130)
My dear lord,
I cannot live at Twickenham and not think of you: I have long
wanted to write, and had nothing to tell you. My Lady D. seems
to have lost her sting; she has neither blown up a house nor a
quarrel since you departed. Her wall, contiguous to you, is
built, but so precipitate and slanting that it seems hurrying to
take water. I hear she grows sick of her undertakings. We have
been ruined by deluges; all the country was under water. Lord
Holderness's new foss`e(165) was beaten in for several yards -
this tempest was a little beyond the dew of Hermon, that fell on
the Hill of Sion. I have been in still more danger by water: my
parroquet was on my shoulder as I was feeding my gold-fish, and
flew into the middle of the pond: I was very near being the
Nouvelle Eloise, and tumbling in after him; but with much ado I
ferried him out with my hat.
Lord Edgecumbe has had a fit of apoplexy; your brother
Charles(166) a bad return of his old complaint; and Lord Melcombe
has tumbled down the kitchen stairs, and--waked himself.
London is a desert; no soul in it but the king. Bussy has taken
a temporary house. The world talks of peace-would I could
believe it! every newspaper frightens me: Mr. Conway would be
very angry if he knew how I dread the very name of the Prince de
Soubise.
We begin to perceive the tower of Kew(167) from Montpellier in a
fortnight you will see it in Yorkshire.
The Apostle Whitfield is come to some shame: he went to Lady
Huntingdon lately, and asked for forty pounds for some distressed
saint or other. She said she had not so much money in the house,
but would give it him the first time she had. He was very
pressing, but in vain. At last he said, "There's your watch and
trinkets, you don't want such vanities; I will have that." She
would have put him off- but he persisting, she said, "Well, if
you must have it, you must." About a fortnight afterwards, going
to his house, and being carried into his wife's chamber, among
the paraphernalia of the latter the Countess found her own
offering. This has made a terrible schism: she tells the story
herself--I had not it from Saint Frances,(168) but I hope it is
true. Adieu, my dear lord!
P. S. My gallery sends its humble duty to your new front, and all
my creatures beg their respects to my lady.
(165) At Sion-hill, near Brentford.
(166) Charles Townshend, married to Lady Greenwich, eldest sister
to Lady Strafford.
(167) The pagoda in the royal garden at Kew.
(168) Lady Frances Shirley.
Letter 81 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Arlington Street, July 14, 1761. (page 131)
My dearest Harry,
How could you write me such a cold letter as I have just received
from you, and beginning Dear sir! Can you be angry with me, for
can I be in fault to you? Blamable in ten thousand other
respects, may not I almost say I am perfect with regard to you'?
Since I was fifteen have I not loved you unalterably? Since I
was capable of knowing your merit, has not my admiration been
veneration? For what could so much affection and esteem change?
Have not your honour, your interest, your safety been ever my
first objects? Oh, Harry! if you knew what I have felt and am
feeling about you, would you charge me with neglect? If I have
seen a person since you went, to whom my first question has not
been, "What do you hear of the peace?" you would have reason to
blame me. You say I write very seldom: I will tell you what, I
should almost be sorry to have you see the anxiety I have
expressed about you in letters to every body else. No; I must
except Lady Ailesbury, and there is not another on earth who
loves you so well, and is so attentive to whatever relates to
you.
With regard to writing, this is exactly the case.- I had nothing
to tell you; nothing has happened; and where you are I was
cautious of writing. Having neither hopes nor fears, I always
write the thoughts of the moment, and even laugh to divert the
person I am writing to, without any ill will on the subjects I
mention. But in your situation that frankness might be
prejudicial to you: and to write grave unmeaning letters, I
trusted you was too secure of' me either to like them or desire
them. I knew no news, nor could: I have lived quite alone at
Strawberry; am connected with no court, ministers, or party;
consequently heard nothing, and events there have been none. I
have not even for this month heard my Lady Townshend's extempore
gazette. All the morning I play with my workmen or animals, go
regularly every evening to the meadows with Mrs. Clive, or sit
with my Lady Suffolk, and at night scribble my Painters-What a
journal to send you! I write more trifling letters than any man
living; am ashamed of them, and yet they are expected of me.
You, my Lady Ailesbury, your brother, Sir Horace Mann, George
Montagu, Lord Strafford-all expect I should write--Of what? I
live less and less in the world, care for it less and less, and
yet am thus obliged to inquire what it is doing. Do make these
allowances for me, and remember half your letters go to my Lady
Ailesbury. I writ to her of the King's marriage, concluding she
would send it to you: tiresome as it would be, I will copy my own
letters, if you it; for I will do any thing rather than disoblige
you. I will send you a diary of the Duke of York's balls and
Ranelaghs, inform you of how many children my Lady Berkeley is
with child, and how many races my nephew goes to. No; I will
not, you do not want such proofs of my friendship.
The papers tell us you are retiring, and I was glad? You seem to
expect an action--Can this give me spirits? Can I write to you
joyfully, and fear? Or is it fit Prince Ferdinand should know
you have a friend that is as great a coward about you as your
wife? The only reason for my silence that can not be true, is,
that I forget you. When I am prudent or cautious, it is no
symptom of my being indifferent. Indifference does not happen in
friendships, as it does in passions; and if I was young enough,
or feeble enough to cease to love you, I would not for my own
sake let it be known. Your virtues are my greatest pride; I have
done myself so much honour by them, that I will not let it be
known you have been peevish with me unreasonably. Pray God we
may have peace, that I may scold you for it!
The King's marriage was kept the profoundest secret till last
Wednesday, when the privy council was extraordinarily summoned,
and it was notified to them. Since that, the new Queen's mother
is dead, and will delay it a few days; but Lord Harcourt is to
sail on the 27th, and the coronation will certainly be on the 22d
of September. All that I know fixed is, Lord Harcourt master of
the horse, the Duke of Manchester chamberlain, and Mr. Stone
treasurer. Lists there are in abundance; I don't know the
authentic: those most talked of, are Lady Bute groom of the
stole, the Duchesses of Hamilton and Ancaster, Lady
Northumberland, Bolingbroke, Weymouth, Scarborough, Abergavenny,
Effingham, for ladies; you may choose any six of them you please;
the four first are most probable. Misses Henry Beauclerc, M.
Howe, Meadows, Wrottesley, Bishop, etc. etc. Choose your maids
too. Bedchainber women, Mrs. Bloodworth, Robert Brudenel,
Charlotte Dives, Lady Erskine; in short, I repeat a mere
newspaper.
We expect the final answer of France this week. Bussy(169) was
in great pain on the fireworks for quebec, lest he should be
obliged to illuminate his house: you see I ransack my memory for
something to tell you.
Adieu! I have more reason to be angry than you had; but I am not
so hasty: you are of a violent, impetuous, jealous temper--I,
cool, sedate, reasonable. I believe I must subscribe my name, or
you will not know me by this description.
(169) The Abb`e de Bussy, sent here with overtures of peace. Mr.
Stanley was at the same time sent to Paris.
Letter 82 To George Montagu, Esq.
Strawberry Hill, Friday night, July 16, 1761. (page 133)
I did not notify the King's marriage to you yesterday, because I
knew you would learn as much by the evening post as I could tell
you. The solemn manner of summoning the council was very
extraordinary: people little imagined, that the urgent and
important business in the rescript was to acquaint them that his
Majesty was going to * * * * * * * *. All I can tell you of
truth is, that Lord Harcourt goes to fetch the Princess, and
comes back her master of the horse. She is to be here in August,
and the coronation certainly on the 22d of September. Think of
the joy the women feel; there is not a Scotch peer in the fleet
that might not marry the greatest fortune in England between this
and the 22d of September. However, the ceremony will lose its
two brightest luminaries, my niece Waldegrave for beauty, and the
Duchess of Grafton for figure. The first will be lying-in, the
latter at Geneva; but I think she will come, if she walks to It
as well as at it. I cannot recollect but Lady Kildare and Lady
Pembroke of great beauties. Mrs. Bloodworth and Mrs. Robert
Brudenel, bedchamber women, Miss Wrottesley and Miss Meadows,
maids of honour, go to receive the Princess at Helvoet; what lady
I do not hear. Your cousin's Grace of Manchester, they say, is
to be chamberlain, and Mr. Stone, treasurer; the Duchess of
Ancaster and Lady Bolingbroke of her bedchamber: these I do not
know are certain, but hitherto all seems well chosen. Miss Molly
Howe, one of the pretty Bishops, and a daughter of Lady Harry
Beauclerc, are talked of for maids of honour. The great
apartment at St. James's is enlarging, and to be furnished with
the pictures from Kensington : this does not portend a new
palace.
In the midst of all this novelty and hurry, my mind is very
differently employed. They expect every minute the news of a
battle between Soubise and the hereditary Prince. Mr. Conway, I
believe, is in the latter army; judge if I can be thinking much
of espousals and coronations! It is terrible to be forced to sit
still, expecting such an event; in one's own room one is not
obliged to be a hero; consequently, I tremble for one that is
really a hero.
Mr. Hamilton, your secretary, has been to see me to-day; I am
quite ashamed not to have prevented him. I will go to-morrow
with all the speeches I can muster.
I am sorry neither you nor your brother are quite well, but shall
be content if my Pythagorean sermons have any weight with you.
You go to Ireland to make the rest of your life happy; don't go
to fling the rest of it away. Good night!
Mr. Chute is gone to his Chutehood.
Letter 83 To The Countess Of Ailesbury.
Strawberry Hill, July 20, 1761. (page 134)
I blush, dear Madam, on observing that half my letters to your
ladyship are prefaced with thanks for presents:-don't mistake; I
am not ashamed of thanking you, but of having so many occasions
for it. Monsieur Hop has sent me the piece of china: I admire it
as much as possible, and intend to like him as much as ever I can
but hitherto I have not seen him, not having been in town since
he arrived.
Could I have believed that the Hague would so easily compensate
for England? nay, for Park-place! Adieu, all our agreeable
suppers! Instead of Lady Cecilia's(170) French songs, we shall
have Madame Welderen(171) quavering a confusion of d's and t's,
b's and p's--Bourquoi s`cais du blaire?(172)--Worse than that, I
expect to meet all my relations at your house, and Sir Samson
Gideon instead of Charles Townshend. You will laugh like Mrs.
Tipkin(173) when a Dutch Jew tells you that he bought at two and
a half per cent. and sold at four. Come back, if you have any
taste left: you had better be here talking robes, ermine, and
tissue, Jewels and tresses, as all the world does, than own you
are corrupted. Did you receive my notification of the new Queen?
Her mother is dead, and she will not be here before the end of
August.
My mind is much more at peace about Mr. Conway than it was.
Nobody thinks there will be a battle, as the French did not
attack them when both armies shifted camps; and since that,
Soubise has entrenched himself up to the whiskers:--whiskers I
think he has, I have been so afraid of him! Yet our hopes of
meeting are still very distant: the peace does not advance; and
if Europe has a stiuer left in its pockets, the war will
continue; though happily all parties have been so scratched, that
they only sit and look anger at one another, like a dog and cat
that don't care to begin again.
We are in danger of losing our sociable box at the Opera. The
new Queen is very musical, and if Mr. Deputy Hodges and the city
don't exert their veto, will probably go to the Haymarket.
George Pitt, in imitation of the Adonises in Tanzai's retinue,
has asked to be her Majesty's grand harper. Dieu s`cait quelle
raclerie il y aura! All the guitars are untuned; and if Miss
Conway has a mind to be in fashion at her return, she must take
some David or other to teach her the new twing twang, twing twing
twang. As I am still desirous of being in fashion with your
ladyship, and am, over and above, very grateful, I keep no
company but my Lady Denbigh and Lady Blandford, and learn every
evening, for two hours, to mask my English. Already I am
tolerably fluent in saying she for he.(174)
Good night, Madam! I have no news to send you: one cannot
announce a royal wedding and a coronation every post.
P. S. Pray, Madam, do the gnats bite your legs? Mine are swelled
as big as one, which is saying a deal for me.
July 22.
I HAD writ this, and was not time enough for the mail, when I
receive your charming note, and this magnificent victory!(175)
Oh! my dear Madam, how I thank you, how I congratulate you, how I
feel for you, how I have felt for you and for myself! But I
bought it by two terrible hours to-day--I heard of the battle two
hours before I could learn a word of Mr. Conway--I sent all round
the world, and went half around it myself. I have cried and
laughed, trembled and danced, as you bid me. If you had sent me
as much old china as King Augustus gave two regiments for, I
should not be half so much obliged to you as for your note. How
could you think of me, when you had so much reason to think of
nothing but yourself?--And then they say virtue is not rewarded
in this world. I will preach at Paul's Cross, and quote you and
Mr. Conway; no two persons were ever so good and happy. In
short, I am serious in the height of all my joy. God is very
good to you, my dear Madam; I thank him for you; I thank him for
myself: it is very unalloyed pleasure we taste at this moment!-
-Good night! My heart is so expanded, I could write to the last
scrap of my paper; but I won't. Yours most entirely.
(170) Lady Cecilia West, daughter of John Earl of Delawar,
afterwards married to General James Johnston.
(171) Wife of the Count de Welderen, one of the lords of the
States of Holland.-E.
(172) The first words of a favourite French air, with Madame
Welderen's confusion of p's, t's' etc.
(173) A character in Steele's comedy of The Tender Husband, or
the Accomplished Fools brought out at Drury-lane in 1709.-E.
(174) A mistake which these ladies, who were both Dutch women,
constantly made.
(175) The battle of Kirckdenckirck, on the 15th and 16th of July,
in which the allied army, under Prince Ferdinand, gained a great
victory over the French, under the Prince of Soubise.-E.
Letter 84 To The Earl Of Strafford.
Strawberry Hill, July 22, 1761. (page 136)
My dear lord,
I love to be able to contribute to your satisfaction, and I think
few things would make you happier than to hear that we have
totally defeated the French combined armies, and that Mr. Conway
is safe. The account came this morning: I had a short note from
my poor Lady Ailesbury, who was waked with the good news before
she had heard there had been a battle. I don't pretend to send
you circumstances, no more than I do of the wedding and
coronation, because you have relations and friends in town nearer
and better informed. indeed, only the blossom of victory is come
yet. Fitzroy is expected, and another fuller courier after him.
Lord Granby, to the mob's heart's content, has the chief honour
of the day--rather, of the two days. The French behaved to the
mob's content too, that is, shamefully: and all this glory
cheaply bought on our side. Lieutenant-colonel Keith killed, and
Colonel Marlay and Harry Townshend wounded. If it produces a
peace, I shall be happy for mankind--if not, shall content myself
with the single but pure joy of Mr. Conway's being safe.
Well! my lord, when do you come? You don't like the question, but
kings will be married and must be crowned-and if people will be
earls, they must now and then give up castles and new fronts for
processions and ermine. By the way, the number of peeresses that
propose to excuse themselves makes great noise; especially as so
many are breeding, or trying to breed, by commoners, that they
cannot walk. I hear that my Lord Delawar, concluding all women
would not dislike the ceremony, is negotiating his peerage in the
city, and trying if any great fortune will give fifty thousand
pounds for one day, as they often do for one night. I saw Miss
this evening at my Lady Suffolk's, and fancy she does not think
my Lord quite so ugly as she did two months ago. Adieu, my lord!
This is a splendid year!
Letter 85 To George Montagu, Esq.
Strawberry Hill, July 22, 1761. (page 136)
For my part, I believe Mademoiselle Scuderi drew the plan of this
year. It is all royal marriages, coronations, and victories;
they come tumbling so over one another from distant parts of the
globe, that it looks just like the handywork of a lady romance
writer, whom it costs nothing but a little false geography to
make the Great Mogul in love with a Princess of Mecklenburg, and
defeat two marshals of France as he rides post on an elephant to
his nuptials. I don't know where I am. I had scarce found
Mecklenburg Strelitz(176) with a magnifying-glass before I am
whisked to Pondicherri(177)--well, I take it, and raze it. I
begin to grow acquainted with Colonel Coote, and to figure him
packing up chests and diamonds, and sending them to his wife
against the King's wedding--thunder go the Tower guns, and
behold, Broglio and Soubise are totally defeated; if the mob have
not much stronger heads and quicker conceptions than I have, they
-will conclude my Lord Granby is become nabob. How the deuce in
two days can one digest all this? Why is not Pondicherri in
Westphalia? I don't know how the Romans did, but I cannot
support two victories every week. Well, but you will want to
know the particulars. Broglio and Soubise united, attacked our
army on the 15th, but were repulsed; the next day, the Prince
Mahomet Alli d Cawn--no, no, I mean Prince Ferdinand, returned
the attack, and the French threw down their arms and fled, run
over my Lord Harcourt, who was going to fetch the new Queen; in
short, I don't know how it was, but Mr. Conway is safe, and I am
as happy as Mr. Pitt himself. We have only lost a
Lieutenant-colonel Keith; Colonel Marlay and Harry Townshend are
wounded.
I could beat myself for not having a flag ready to display on my
round tower, and guns mounted on all m@battlements. Instead of
that, I have been foolishly trying on My new pictures upon my
gallery. However, the oratory of our Lady of Strawberry shall be
dedicated next year on the anniversary of Mr. Conway's safety.
Think with his intrepidity, and delicacy of honour wounded, what
I had to apprehend; you shall absolutely be here on the sixteenth
of next July. Mr. Hamilton tells me your King does not set out
for his new dominions till the day after the coronation; if you
will come to it, I can give you a very good place for the
procession; which is a profound secret, because, if known, I
should be teased to death, and none but my first friends shall be
admitted. I dined with your secretary yesterday; there were
Garrick and a young Mr. Burke, who wrote a book in
the style of Lord Bolingbroke, that was much admired.(178) He is
a sensible man, but has not worn off his authorism yet, and
thinks there is nothing so charming as writers, and to be one.
He will know better one of these days. I like Hamilton's little
Marly; we walked in the great all`ee, and drank tea in the arbour
of treillage; they talked of Shakspeare and Booth, of Swift and
my Lord Bath, and I was thinking of Madame S`evign`e,-. Good
night! I have a dozen other letters to write; I must tell my
friends how happy I am--not as an Englishman, but as a cousin.
(176) The King had just announced his intention of demanding in
marriage the Princess Charlotte of Mecklenburg Strelitz.-E.
(177) the news of the capture of Pondicherry had only arrived on
the preceding day.-E.
(178) Mr. Burke's "Vindication of Natural Society," in imitation
of Lord Bolingbroke's style, which came out in the spring of
1756, was his first avowed production.-E.
Letter 86 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Strawberry Hill, July 23, 1761. (page 138)
Well, mon beau cousin! you may be as cross as you please now.
when you beat two Marshals of France and cut their armies to
pieces, I don't mind your pouting; but in good truth, it was a
little vexatious to have you quarrelling with me, when I was in
greater pain about you than I can express. I Will Say no more;
make a peace, under the walls of Paris if you please, and I will
forgive you all--but no more battles: consider, as Dr. Hay said,
it is cowardly to beat the French now.
Don't look upon yourselves as the only conquerors in the world.
Pondicherri is ours, as well as the field of KirkDenckirk. The
park guns never have time to cool; we ruin ourselves in gunpowder
and skyrockets. If you have a mind to do the gallantest thing in
the world after the greatest, you must escort the Princess of
Mecklenburgh through France. You see what a bully I am; the
moment the French run away, I am sending you on expeditions. I
forgot to tell you that the King has got the isle of Dominique
and the chickenpox, two trifles that don't count in the midst of
all these festivities. No more does your letter of the 8th,
which I received yesterday: it is the one that is to come after
the 16th, that I shall receive graciously.
Friday 24th.
Not satisfied with the rays of glory that reached Twickenham, I
came to town to bask in your success; but am most disagreeably
disappointed to find you must beat the French once more, who seem
to love to treat the English mob with subjects for bonfires. I
had got over such an alarm, that I foolishly ran into the other
extreme, and concluded there was not a French battalion left
entire upon the face of Germany. Do write to me; don't be out of
humour, but tell me every motion you make: I assure you I have
deserved you should. Would you were out of the question, if it
were only that I might feel a little humanity! There is not a
blacksmith or linkboy in London that exults more than I do, upon
any good news, since you went abroad. What have I to do to hate
people I never saw, and to rejoice in their calamities? Heaven
send us peace, and you home! Adieu!
Letter 87 To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street, July 28, 1761. (page 138)
No, I shall never cease being a dupe, till I have been undeceived
round by every thing that calls itself a virtue. I came to town
yesterday, through clouds of dust, to see The Wishes, and went
actually feeling for Mr. Bentley, and full of the emotions he
must be suffering. What do you think, in a house crowded, was
the first thing I saw? Mr. and Madame Bentley, perched up in the
front boxes, and acting audience at his own play! No, all the
impudence of false patriotism never came up to it. Did one ever
hear of an author that had courage to see his own first night in
public'? I don't believe Fielding or Foote himself ever did; and
this was the modest, bashful Mr. BenTley, that died at the
thought of being known for an author even by his own
acquaintance! In the stage-box was Lady Bute, Lord Halifax, and
Lord Melcombe. I must say, the two last entertained the house as
much as the play; your King was prompter, and called out to the
actor every minute to speak louder. The other went backwards,
behind the scenes, fetched the actors into the box, and was
busier than Harlequin. The curious prologue was not spoken, the
whole very ill acted. It turned out just what I remembered it;
the good extremely good, the rest very flat and vulgar; the
genteel dialogue, I believe, might be written by Mrs. Hannah.
The audience were extremely fair: the first act they bore with
patience, though it promised very ill; the second is admirable,
and was much applauded; so was the third; the fourth-woful; the
beginning of the fifth it seemed expiring, but was revived by a
delightful burlesque of the ancient chorus, which was followed by
two dismal scenes, at which people yawned, but were awakened on a
sudden by Harlequin's being drawn up to a gibbet, nobody knew why
or wherefore - this raised a prodigious and continued hiss,
Harlequin all the while suspended in the air,--at last they were
suffered to finish the play, but nobody attended to the
conclusion.(179) Modesty and his lady all the while sat with the
utmost indifference; I suppose Lord Melcombe had fallen asleep
before he came to this scene, and had never read it. The
epilogue was the King and new queen, and ended with a personal
satire on Garrick: not very kind on his own stage To add to the
judgment of his conduct, Cumberland two days ago published a
pamphlet to abuse him. It was given out for to-night with rather
more claps than hisses, but I think will not do unless they
reduce it to three acts.
I am sorry you will not come to the coronation. The place I
offered I am not sure I can get for any body else; I cannot
explain it to you, because I am engaged to secrecy: if I can get
it for your brother John I will, but don't tell him of it,
because it is not sure. Adieu!
(179) The piece was coldly received by the town. Cumberland says
that, "when the last of the three Wishes produced the ridiculous
catastrophe of the hanging of Harlequin in full view of the
audience, my uncle, the author, then sitting by me, whispered in
my ear, 'If they don't damn this they deserve to be damned
themselves;' and whilst he was yet speaking the roar began, and
The Wishes were irrevocably damned."-E.
Letter 88 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Strawberry Hill. (page 140)
This is the 5th of August, and I just receive your letter of the
17th of last month by Fitzroy.(180) I heard he had lost his
pocket-book with all his despatches, but had found it again. He
was a long time finding the letter for me.
You do nothing but reproach me; I declare I will bear it no
longer, though you should beat forty more Marshals of France. I
have already writ you two letters that would fully justify me if
you receive them; if you do not, it is not I that am in fault for
not writing, but the post-offices for reading my letters, content
if they would forward them when they have done with them. They
seem to think, like you that I know more news than any body.
What is to be known in the dead of summer, when all the world is
dispersed? Would you know who won the sweepstakes at Huntingdon?
what parties are at Woburn? what officers upon guard in Betty's
fruit-shop? whether the peeresses are to wear long, or short
tresses at the coronation? how many jewels Lady Harrington
borrows of actresses? All this is your light summer wear for
conversation; and if my memory were as much stuffed with it as my
ears, I might have sent you Volumes last week. My nieces, Lady
Waldegrave and Mrs. Keppel, were here five days, and discussed
the claim or disappointment of every miss in the kingdom for maid
of honour. Unfortunately this new generation is not at all my
affair. I cannot attend to what Concerns them. Not that their
trifles are less important than those of one's own time, but my
mould has taken all its impressions, and can receive no more. I
must grow old upon the stock I have. I, that was so impatient at
all their chat, the moment they were gone, flew to my Lady
Suffolk, and heard her talk with great satisfaction of the late
Queen's coronation-petticoat. The preceding age always appears
respectable to us (I mean as one advances in years), one's own
age interesting, the coming age neither one nor t'other.
You may judge by this account that I have writ all my letters, or
ought to have written them; and yet, for occasion to blame Me,
you draw a very pretty picture of my situation: all which tends
to prove that I ought to write to you every day, whether I have
any thing to say or not. I am writing, I am building--both works
that will outlast the memory of battles and heroes! Truly, I
believe, the one will as much as t'other. My buildings are
paper, like my writings, and both will be blown away in ten years
after I am dead; if they had not the substantial use of amusing
me while I live, they would be worth little indeed. I will give
you one instance that will sum up the vanity of great men,
learned men, and buildings altogether. I heard lately, that Dr.
Pearce, a very learned personage, had consented to let the tomb
of Aylmer de Valence, Earl of Pembroke, a very great personage,
be removed for Wolfe's monument; that at first he had objected,
but was wrought upon by being told that hight Aylmer was a knight
templar, a very wicked set of people, as his lordship had heard,
though he knew nothing of them, as they are not mentioned by
Longinus. I own I thought this a made story, and wrote to his
lordship, expressing my concern that one of the finest and most
ancient monuments in the abbey should be removed, and begging, if
it was removed, that he would bestow it on me, who would erect
and preserve it here. After a fortnight's deliberation, the
bishop sent me an answer, civil indeed, and commending my zeal
for antiquity! but avowing the story under his own hand. He
said, that at first they had taken Pembroke's tomb for a knight
templar's. Observe, that not only the man who shows the tombs
names it every day, but that there is a draught of it at large in
Dart's Westminster; that upon discovering whose it was, he had
been very unwilling to consent to the removal, and at last had
obliged Wilton to engage to set it up within ten feet of where it
stands at present. His lordship concluded with congratulating me
on publishing learned authors at my press. don't wonder that a
man who thinks Lucan a learned author, should mistake a tomb in
his own cathedral. If I had a mind to be angry, I could complain
with reason; as, having paid forty pounds for ground for my
mother's tomb, that the Chapter of Westminster sell their church
over and over again; the ancient monuments tumble upon one's head
through their neglect, as one of them did, and killed a man at
Lady Elizabeth Percy's funeral; and they erect new waxen dolls of
Queen Elizabeth, etc. to draw visits and money from the mob. I
hope all this history is applicable to some part or other of my
letter; but letters you will have, and so I send you one, very
like your own stories that you tell your daughter-. There was a
King, and he had three daughters, and they all went to see the
tombs; and the youngest, -who was in love with Aylmer de Valence,
etc.
Thank you for your account of the battle; thank Prince Ferdinand
for giving you a very Honourable post, which, in spite of his
teeth and yours, proved a very safe one; and above all, thank
Prince Soubise, whom I love better than all the German Princes in
the universe. Peace, I think, we must have at last, if you beat
the French, or at least hinder them from beating you, and
afterwards starve them. Bussy's last last courier is expected;
but as he may have a last last last courier, I trust more to this
than to all the others. He was complaining t'other day to Mr.
Pitt of our haughtiness, and said it would drive the French to
some desperate effort, "Thirty thousand men," continued he,
"would embarrass you a little, I believe!" "Yes," replied Pitt,
"for I am so embarrassed with those we have already, I don't know
what to do with them."
Adieu! Don't fancy that the more you scold, the more I will
write: it has answered three times, but the next cross word you
give me shall put an end to our correspondence. Sir Horace
Mann's father used to say, "Talk, Horace, you have been abroad:"-
-You cry, "Write, Horace, you are at home." No, Sir. you can
beat an hundred and twenty thousand French, but you cannot get
the better of me. I will not write such foolish letters as this
every day, when I have nothing to say. Yours as you behave.
(180) George Fitzroy, afterwards created Lord Southampton.
Letter 89 To George Montagu, Esq.
Strawberry Hill, Aug. 20, 1761. (page 142)
A few lines before you go; your resolutions are good, and give me
great pleasure; bring them back unbroken; I have no mind to lose
you; we have been acquainted these thirty years, and to give the
devil his due, in all that time I never knew a bad, a false, a
mean, or ill-natured thing in the devil--but don't tell him I say
so, especially as I cannot say the same of myself. I am now
doing a dirty thing, flattering you to preface a commission.
Dickey Bateman(181) has picked up a whole cloister full of old
chairs in Herefordshire. He bought them one by one, here and
there in farmhouses, for three-and-sixpence, and a crown apiece.
They are of' wood, the seats triangular, the backs, arms, and
legs loaded with turnery. A thousand to one but there are plenty
up and down Cheshire too. If Mr. and Mrs. Wetenhall, as they
ride or drive out would now and then pick up such a chair, it
would oblige me greatly. Take notice, no two need be of the same
pattern.
Keep it as the secret of your life; but if your brother John
addresses himself to me a day or two before the coronation, I can
place him well to see the procession: when it is over, I will
give you a particular reason why this must be such a mystery. I
was extremely diverted t'other day with my mother's and my old
milliner; she said she had a petition to me--"What is it, Mrs.
Burton?" "It Is in behalf of two poor orphans." I began to feel
for my purse. "What can I do for them, Mrs. Burton?" "Only if
your honour would be so compassionate as to get them tickets for
the coronation." I could not keep my countenance, and these
distressed orphans are two and three-and-twenty! Did you ever
hear a more melancholy case?
The Queen is expected on Monday. I go to town on Sunday. Would
these shows and your Irish journey were over, and neither of us a
day the poorer!
I am expecting Mr. Chute to hold a chapter on the cabinet. A
barge-load of niches, window-frames, and ribs, is arrived. The
cloister is paving, the privy garden making, painted glass
adjusting to the windows on the back stairs - with so many irons
in the fire, you may imagine I have not much time to write. I
wish you a safe and pleasant voyage.
(181) Richard Bateman, brother of Viscount Bateman. In Sir
Charles Hanbury Williams's Poems he figures as "Constant
Dickey."-E.
Letter 90 To The Earl Of Strafford.
Arlington Street, Tuesday morning. (page 143)
My dear lord,
Nothing was ever equal to the bustle and uncertainty of the town
for these three days. The Queen was seen off the coast of Sussex
on Saturday last, and is not arrived yet-nay, last night at ten
o'clock it was neither certain when she landed, nor when she
would be in town. I forgive history for knowing nothing, when so
public an event as the arrival of a new Queen is a mystery even
at the very moment in St. James's Street. The messenger that
brought the letter yesterday morning, said she arrived ,it half
an hour after four at Harwich. This was immediately translated
into landing, and notified in those words to the ministers. Six
hours afterwards it proved no such thing, and that she was only
in Harwich-road; and they recollected that an hour after four
happens twice in twenty-four hours, and the letter did not
specify which of the twices it was. Well! the bridemaids whipped
on their virginity; the new road and the parks were thronged; the
guns were choking with impatience to go off; and Sir James
Lowther, who was to pledge his Majesty was actually married to
Lady Mary Stuart.(182) Five, six, seven, eight o'clock came, and
no Queen--She lay at Witham at Lord Abercorn's, who was most
tranquilly in town; and it is not certain even whether she will
be composed enough to be in town to-night. She has been sick but
half an hour; sung and played on the harpsicord all the voyage,
and been cheerful the whole time. The coronation will now
certainly not be put off-so I shall have the pleasure of seeing
you on the 15th. The weather is close and sultry; and if the
wedding is to-night, we shall all die.
They have made an admirable speech for the Tripoline ambassador
that he said he heard the King had sent his first eunuch to fetch
the Princess. I should think he meaned Lord Anson.
You will find the town over head and ears in disputes about rank,
and precedence, processions, entr`ees, etc. One point, that of
the Irish peers, has been excellently liquidated: Lord Halifax
has stuck up a paper in the coffee-room at Arthur's, importing, ,
That his Majesty, not having leisure to determine a point of such
great consequence, permits for this time such Irish peers as
shall be at the marriage to walk in the procession." Every body
concludes those personages will understand this order as it is
drawn up in their own language; otherwise it is not very clear
how they are to walk to the marriage, if they are at it before
they come to it.
Strawberry returns its duty and thanks for all your lordship's
goodness to it, and though it has not got its wedding-clothes
yet, will be happy to see you. Lady Betty Mackenzie is the
individual woman she was--she seems to have been gone three
years, like the Sultan in the Persian Tales, who popped his head
into a tub of water, pulled it up again, and fancied he had been
a dozen years in bondage in the interim. She is not altered a
tittle. Adieu, my dear lord!
Twenty minutes past three in the afternoon, not in the middle of
the night.
Madame Charlotte is this instant arrived. The noise of coaches,
chaises, horsemen, mob, that have been to see her pass through
the parks, is so prodigious that I cannot distinguish the guns.
I am going to be dressed, and before seven shall launch into the
crowd. Pray for me!
(182) Eldest daughter of the Earl of Bute.-E.
Letter 91 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Arlington Street, Sept. 9, 1761. (page 144)
The date of my promise is now arrived, and I fulfil it--fulfil it
with great satisfaction, for the Queen is come; and I have seen
her, have been presented to her--and may go back to Strawberry.
For this fortnight I have lived upon the road between Twickenham
and london: I came, grew inpatient, returned; came again, still
to no purpose. The yachts made the coast of Suffolk last
Saturday, on Sunday entered the road of Harwich, and on Monday
morning the King's chief eunuch, as the Tripoline ambassador
calls Lord Anson, landed the Princess. She lay that night at
Lord Abercorn's at Whitham, the palace of silence; and yesterday
at a quarter after three arrived at St. James's. In half an hour
one heard nothing but proclamations of her beauty: every body was
content, every body pleased. At seven one went to court. The
night was sultry. About ten the procession began to move towards
the chapel, and at eleven they all came up into the drawing-room.
She looks very sensible, cheerful, and is remarkably genteel.
Her tiara of diamonds was very pretty, her stomacher sumptuous;
her violet-velvet mantle and ermine so heavy, that the spectators
knew as much of her upper half as the King himself. You will
have no doubts of her sense by what I shall tell you. On the
road they wanted to curl her toupet; she said she thought it
looked as well as that of any of the ladies sent to fetch her; if
the King bid her, she would wear a periwig, otherwise she would
remain as she was. When she caught the first glimpse of the
palace, she grew frightened and turned pale; the Duchess of
Hamilton smiled--the Princess said, "My dear Duchess, you may
laugh, you have been married twice, but it is no joke to me."
Her lips trembled as the coach stopped, but she jumped out with
spirit, and has done nothing but with good-humour and
cheerfulness. She talks a great deal--is easy, civil, and not
disconcerted. At first, when the bridemaids and the court were
introduced to her, she said, "Mon Dieu, il y en a tant, il y en a
tant!" She was pleased when she was to kiss the peeresses; but
Lady Augusta was forced to take her hand and give it to those
that were to kiss it, which was prettily humble and good-natured.
While they waited for supper, she sat down, sang, and played.
Her French is tolerable, she exchanged much both of that and
German with the King, and the Duke of York. They did not get to
bed till two. To-day was a drawing-room: every body was
presented to her; but she spoke to nobody, as she could not know
a soul. The crowd was much less than at a birthday, the
magnificence very little more. The King looked very handsome,
and talked to her continually with great good-humour.- It does
not promise as if they two would be the two most unhappy persons
in England, from this event. The bridemaids, especially Lady
Caroline Russel, Lady Sarah Lenox, and Lady Elizabeth Keppel,
were beautiful figures. With neither features nor air, Lady
Sarah was by far the chief angel. The Duchess of Hamilton was
almost in possession of her former beauty today: and your other
Duchess, your daughter, was much better dressed than ever I saw
her. Except a pretty Lady Sutherland, and a most perfect beauty,
an Irish Miss Smith,(183) I don't think the Queen saw much else
to discourage her: my niece,(184) Lady Kildare, Mrs. Fitzroy,
were none of them there. There is a ball to-night, and two more
drawing-rooms; but I have done with them. The Duchess of
Queensbury and Lady Westmoreland were in the procession, and did
credit to the ancient nobility.
You don't presume to suppose, I hope, that we are thinking of
you, and wars, and misfortunes, and distresses, in these festival
times. Mr. Pitt himself Would be mobbed if he talked of any
thing but clothes, and diamonds, and bridemaids. Oh! yes, we
have wars, civil wars; there is a campaign opened in the
bedchamber. Every body is excluded but the ministers; even the
lords of the bedchamber, cabinet counsellors, and foreign
ministers: but it has given such offence that I don't know
whether Lord Huntingdon must not be the scapegoat. Adieu! I am
going to transcribe most of this letter to your Countess.
(183) Afterwards married to Lord Llandaff.
(184) The Countess of Waldegrave.
Letter 92 To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street, Sept. 24, 1761. (page 145)
I am glad you arrived safe in Dublin, and hitherto like it so
well; but your trial is not begun yet. When your King comes;,
the ploughshares will be put into the fire. Bless your stars
that your King is not to be married or crowned. All the vines of
Bordeaux, and all the fumes of Irish brains cannot make a town so
drunk as a regal wedding and coronation. I am going to let
London cool, and will not venture into it again this fortnight.
O! the buzz, the prattle, the crowds, the noise, the hurry! Nay,
people are so little come to their senses, that though the
coronation was but the day before yesterday, the Duke of
Devonshire had forty messages yesterday, desiring tickets for a
ball, that they fancied was to be at court last night. People
had sat up a night and a day, and yet wanted to see a dance. If
I was to entitle ages, I would call this the century of crowds.
For the coronation, if a puppet-show could be worth a million,
that is. The multitudes, balconies, guards, and processions,
made Palace-yard the liveliest spectacle in the world - the hall
was the most glorious. The blaze of lights, the richness and
variety of habits, the ceremonial, the benches of peers, and
peeresses, frequent and full, was as awful as a pageant can be -.
and yet for the King's sake and my own, I never wish to see
another; nor am impatient to have my Lord Effingham's promise
fulfilled. The King complained that so few precedents were kept
for their proceedings. Lord Effingham owned, the earl marshal's
office had been strangely neglected; but he had taken such care
for the future, that the next coronation would be regulated in
the most exact manner imaginable. The number of peers and
peeresses present was not very great; some of the latter, with no
excuse in the world, appeared in Lord Lincoln's gallery, and even
walked about the hall indecently in the intervals of the
procession. My Lady Harrington, covered with all the diamonds
she could borrow, hire, or seize, and with the air of Roxann, was
the finest figure at a distance; she complained to George Selwyn
that she was to walk with Lady Portsmouth, who would have a wig
and a stick--"Pho," said he, "you will only look as if you were
taken up by the constable." She told this everywhere, thinking
the reflection was on my Lady Portsmouth. Lady Pembroke, alone
at the head of the countesses, was the picture of majestic
modesty; the Duchess of Richmond as pretty as nature and dress,
with no pains of her own, could make her; Lady Spencer, Lady
Sutherland, and Lady Northampton, very pretty figures. Lady
Kildare, still beauty itself, if not a little too large. The
ancient peeresses were by no means the worst party: Lady
Westmoreland, still handsome, and with more dignity than all; the
Duchess of Queensbury looked well, though her locks were
milk-white; Lady Albemarle very genteel; nay, the middle age had
some good representatives in lady Holderness, Lady Rochford, and
Lady Strafford, the perfectest little figure of all. My Lady
Suffolk ordered her robes, and I dressed part of her head, as I
made some of my Lord Hertford's dress; for you know, no
profession comes amiss to me, from a tribune of the people to a
habit-maker. Don't imagine that there were not figures as
excellent on the other side: old Exeter, who told the King he was
the handsomest man she ever saw; old Effingham and a Lady Say and
Seale, with her hair powdered and her tresses black, were in
excellent contrast to the handsome. Lord B * * * * put on rouge
upon his wife and the Duchess of Bedford in the painted chamber;
the Duchess of Queensbury told me of the latter, that she looked
like an orange-peach, half red, and half yellow. The coronets of
the peers and their robes disguised them strangely; it required
all the beauty of the Dukes of Richmond and Marlborough to make
them noticed. One there was, though of another species, the
noblest figure I ever saw, the high-constable of Scotland, Lord
Errol; as one saw him in a space capable of containing him, one
admired him. At the wedding, dressed in tissue, he looked like
one of the giants in Guildhall, new gilt. It added to the energy
of his person, that one considered him acting so considerable a
part in that very hall, where so few years ago one saw his
father, Lord Kilmarnock, condemned to the block. The champion
acted his part admirably, and dashed down his gauntlet with proud
defiance. His associates, Lord Effingham, Lord Talbot, and the
Duke of Bedford, were woful: Lord Talbot piqued himself on his
horse backing down the hall, and not turning its rump towards the
King; but he had taken such pains to dress it to that duty, that
it entered backwards, and at his retreat the spectators clapped,
a terrible indecorum, but suitable to such Bartholomew-fair
doings. He had twenty demel`es and came out of none creditably.
He had taken away the table of the knights of the Bath, and was
forced to admit two in their old place, and dine the others in
the court of requests. Sir William Stanhope said, "We are
ill-treated, for some of us are gentlemen." beckford told the
Earl, it was hard to refuse a table to the city of london Whom it
would cost ten thousand pounds to banquet the King, and his
lordship would repent it if they had not a table in the Hall;
they had. To the barons of the Cinque-ports, who made the same
complaint, he said, "If you come to me as lord-steward, I tell
you it is impossible; if, as Lord Talbot, I am a match for any of
you:" and then he said to Lord Bute, "If I were a minister, thus
I would talk to France, to Spain, to the Dutch--none of your half
measures." This has brought me to a melancholy topic. Bussy
goes tomorrow, a Spanish war is hanging in the air, destruction
is taking a new lease of mankind--of the remnant of mankind. I
have no prospect of seeing Mr. Conway. Adieu! I will not disturb
you with my forebodings. You I shall see again in spite of war,
and I trust in spite of Ireland. I was much disappointed at not
seeing your brother John: I kept a place for him to the last
minute, but have heard nothing of him. Adieu!
Letter 93 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Arlington Street, Sept. 25, 1761. (page 147)
This is the most unhappy day I have known of years: Bussy goes
away! Mankind is again given up, to the sword! Peace and you are
far from England!
Strawberry Hill.
I was interrupted this morning, just as I had begun my letter, by
Lord Waldegrave; and then the Duke of Devonshire sent for me to
Burlington-house to meet the Duchess of Bedford, and see the old
pictures from Hardwicke. If my letter reaches you three days
later, at least you are saved from a lamentation. Bussy has put
off his journey to Monday (to be sure, you know this is Friday):
he says this is a strange country, he can get no Waggoner to
carry his goods on a Sunday. I am Clad a Spanish war waits for a
conveyance, and that a wagoner's veto is as good as a tribune's
of Rome, and can stop Mr. Pitt on his career to Mexico. He was
going post to conquer it--and Beckford, I suppose, would have had
a contract for remitting all the gold, of which Mr. Pitt never
thinks, unless to serve a city friend. It is serious that we
have discussions with Spain, who says France is humbled enough,
but must not be ruined: Spanish gold is actually coining in
frontier towns of France; and the privilege which Biscay and two
other provinces have of fishing on the coast of Newfoundland, has
been demanded for all Spain. It was refused peremptorily; and
Mr. Secretary Cortez(185) insisted yesterday se'nnight on
recalling Lord Bristol.(186) The rest of the council, who are
content with the world they have to govern, without conquering
Others, prevailed to defer this impetuosity. However, if France
or Spain are the least untractable, a war is inevitable: nay, if
they don't submit by the first day of the session, I have no
doubt but Mr. Pitt will declare it himself on the address. I
have no opinion of Spain intending it: they give France money to
protract a war, from which they reap such advantages in their
peaceful capacity; and I should think would not give their money
if they were on the point of having occasion for it themselves.
In spite of you, and all the old barons our ancestors, I pray
that we may have done with glory, and would willingly burn every
Roman and Greek historian who have don nothing but transmit
precedents for cutting throats.
The coronation is over: 'tis even a more gorgeous sight than I
imagined. I saw the procession and the hall; but the return was
in the dark. In the morning they had forgot the sword of state,
the chairs for King and Queen, and their canopies. They used the
Lord Mayor's for the first, and made the last in the hall so they
did not set forth till noon; and then, by a childish compliment
to the King, reserved the illumination of the hall till his
entry; by which means they arrived like a funeral, nothing being
discernible but the plumes of the knights of the Bath, which
seemed the hearse. Lady Kildare the Duchess of Richmond, and
Lady Pembroke were the capital beauties. Lady Harrington, the
finest figure at a distance; old Westmoreland, the most majestic.
Lady Hertford could not walk, and indeed I think is in a way to
give us great anxiety. She is going to Ragley to ride. Lord
Beauchamp was one of the King's train-bearers. Of all the
incidents of the day, the most diverting was what happened to the
Queen. She had a retiring-chamber, with all conveniences,
prepared behind the altar. She went thither--in the most
convenient what found she, but--the Duke of Newcastle! Lady
Hardwicke died three days before the Ceremony, Which kept away
the whole house of Yorke. Some of the peeresses were dressed
overnight, slept in armchairs, and were waked if they tumbled
their heads. Your sister Harris's maid, Lady Peterborough, was a
comely figure. My Lady Cowper refused, but was forced to walk
with Lady Macclesfield. Lady Falmouth was not there on which
George Selwyn said, "that those peeresses who were most used to
walk, did not." I carried my Lady Townshend, Lady Hertford, Lady
Anne Connolly, my Lady Hervey, and Mrs. Clive, to my deputy's
house at the gate of Westminster-hall. My Lady Townshend said
she should be very glad to see a coronation, as she never had
seen one. "Why," said I, "Madam, you walked at the last?" "Yes,
child," said she, "but I saw nothing of it: I only looked to see
who looked at me." The Duchess of Queensbury walked! her
affectation that day was to do nothing preposterous. The Queen
has been at the Opera, and says she will go once a week. This is
a fresh disaster to our box, where we have lived so harmoniously
for three years. We can get no alternative but that over Miss
Chudleigh's; and Lord Strafford and Lady Mary Coke will not
subscribe, unless we can. The Duke of Devonshire and I are
negotiating with all our -art to keep our party together. The
crowds at the Opera and play when the King and Queen go, are a
little greater than what I remember. The late royalties went to
the Haymarket, when it was the fashion to frequent the other
opera in Lincoln's-inn-fields. Lord Chesterfield one night came
into the latter, and was asked, if he had been at the other
house? "Yes," said he, "but there was nobody but the King and
Queen; and as I thought they might be talking business, I came
away."
Thank you for your journals: the best route you can send me in
would be of your Journey homewards. Adieu!
P. S. If you ever hear from, or write to, such a person as Lady
Ailesbury, pray tell her she is worse to me in point of
correspondence than ever you said I was to you, and that she
sends me every thing but letters!
(185) Mr. Pitt, then secretary of state.
(186) The English ambassador at the court of Madrid.
Letter 94 To The Countess Of Ailesbury.
Strawberry Hill, Sept. 27, 1761. (page 149)
You are a mean mercenary woman. If you did not want histories of
weddings and coronations, and had not jobs to be executed about
muslins, and a bit of china, and counterband goods, one should
never hear of you. When you don't want a body, you can frisk
about with greffiers and burgomasters. and be as merry in a dyke
as my lady frog herself. The moment your curiosity is agog, or
your cambric seized, you recollect a good cousin in England, and,
as folks said two hundred years ago, begin to write "upon the
knees of your heart." Well! I am a sweet-tempered creature, I
forgive you. I have already writ to a little friend in the
customhouse, and will try what can be done; however, by Mr.
Amyand's report to the Duchess of Richmond, I fear your case is
desperate. For the genealogies, I have turned over all my books
to no purpose; I can meet with no Lady Howard that married a
Carey, nor a Lady Seymour that married a Canfield. Lettice
Canfield, who married Francis Staunton, was a daughter of Dr.
James (not George) Canfield, younger brother of the first Lord
Charlemont. This is all I can ascertain. For the other
pedigree; I can inform your friend that there was a Sir Nicholas
Throckmorton, who married an Anne Carew, daughter of Sir Nicholas
Carew, knight of the garter, not Carey. But the Sir Nicholas
Carew married Joan Courtney--not a Howard: and besides, the
Careys and Throckmortons you wot of were just the reverse, your
Carey was the cock, and Throckmorton the hen-mine are vice
versa:--otherwise, let me tell your friend, Carews and Courtneys
are worth Howards any day of the week, and of ancienter blood;-
-so, if descent is all he wants, I advise him to take up with the
pedigree as I have refitted it. However, I will cast a figure
once more, and try if I can conjure up the dames Howard and
Seymour that he wants.
My heraldry was much more offended at the coronation with the
ladies that did walk, than with those that walked out of their
place; yet I was not so perilously angry as my Lady Cowper, who
refused to set a foot with my Lady Macclesfield; and when she was
at last obliged to associate with her, set out on a round trot,
as if she designed to prove the antiquity of her family by
marching as lustily as a maid of honour of Queen Gwiniver. It
was in truth a brave sight. The sea of heads in palace-yard, the
guards, horse and foot, the scaffolds, balconies, and procession,
exceeded imagination. The hall, when once illuminated, was
noble; but they suffered the whole parade to return in the dark,
that his Majesty might be surprised with the quickness with which
the sconces catched fire. The champion acted well; the other
Paladins had neither the grace nor alertness of Rinaldo. Lord
Effingham and the Duke of Bedford were but untoward knights
errant; and Lord Talbot had not much more dignity than the figure
of General Monk in the abbey. The habit of the peers is
unbecoming to the last degree; but the peeresses made amends for
all defects. Your daughter Richmond, Lady Kildare, and Lady
Pembroke were as handsome as the Graces. Lady Rochford, Lady
Holderness, and Lady Lyttelton looked exceedingly well in that
their day; and for those of the day before, the Duchess of
Queensbury, Lady Westmoreland, and Lady Albemarle were
surprising. Lady Harrington was noble at a distance, and so
covered with diamonds, that you would have thought she had bid
somebody or other, like Falstaff, rob me the exchequer. Lady
Northampton was very magnificent too, and looked prettier than I
have seen her of late. Lady Spencer and Lady Bolingbroke were
not the worst figures there. The Duchess of Ancaster marched
alone after the Queen with much majesty; and there were two new
Scotch peeresses that pleased every body, Lady Sutherland and
Lady Dunmore. Per contra, were Lady P * * *, who had put a wig
on, and old E * * * *, who had scratched hers off, Lady S * * *,
the Dowager E * * *, and a Lady Say and Sele, with her tresses
coal-black, and her hair coal-white. Well! it was all delightful,
but not half so charming as its being over. The gabble one heard
about it for six weeks before, and the fatigue of the day, could
not well be compensated by a mere puppet-show; for puppet-show it
was, though it cost a million. The Queen is so gay that we shall
not want sights; she has been at the Opera, the Beggar's Opera
and the Rehearsal, and two nights ago carried the King to
Ranelagh. In short, I am so miserable with losing my
Duchess,(187) and you and Mr. Conway, that I believe, if you
should be another six weeks without writing to me, I should come
to the Hague and scold you in person--for, alas! my dear lady, I
have no hopes of seeing you here. Stanley is recalled, is
expected every hour. Bussy goes tomorrow ; and Mr. Pitt is so
impatient to conquer Mexico, that I don't believe he will stay
till my Lord Bristol can be ordered to leave Madrid. I tremble
lest Mr. Conway should not get leave to come--nay, are we sure he
would like to ask it? he was so impatient to get to the army,
that I should not be surprised if he stayed there till every
suttler and woman that follows the camp was come away. You ask
me if we are not in admiration of Prince Ferdinand. In truth, we
have thought very little of him. He may outwit Broglio ten
times, and not be half so much talked of as lord Talbot' backing
his horse down Westminster-hall. The generality are not struck
with any thing under a complete victory. If you have a mind to
be well with the mob of England, you must be knocked on the head
like Wolfe, or bring home as many diamonds as Clive. We live in
a country where so many follies or novelties start forth every
day, that we have not time to try a (general's capacity by the
rules of Polybius.
I have hardly left room for my obligations-to your ladyship, for
my commissions at Amsterdam; to Mrs. Sally,(188) for her teapots,
which are to stay so long at the Hague, that I fear they will
have begot a whole set of china; and to Miss Conway and Lady
George, for thinking of me. Pray assure them of my re-thinking.
Adieu, dear Madam! Don't You think we had better write oftener
and shorter.
(187) The Duchess of Grafton, who was abroad.
(188) Lady Ailesbury's woman.
Letter 95 To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street, Oct. 8, 1761. (page 151)
I cannot swear I wrote to you again to offer your brother the
place for the coronation; but I was Confident I did, nay, I think
so still: my proofs are, the place remained vacant, and I sent to
old Richard to inquire if Mr. John was not arrived. He had no
great loss, as the procession returned in the dark.
Your King(189) will have heard that Mr. Pitt resigned last
Monday.(190) Greater pains have been taken to recover him than
were used to drive him out. He is inflexible, but mighty
peaceable. Lord Egremont is to have the seals to-morrow. It is
a most unhappy event--France and Spain will soon let us know we
ought to think so. For your part, you will be invaded; a blacker
rod than you will be sent to Ireland. Would you believe that the
town is a desert'! The wedding filled it, the coronation crammed
it; Mr. Pitt's resignation has not brought six people to London.
As they could not hire a window and crowd one another to death to
see him give up the seals, it seems a matter of perfect
indifference. If he will accuse a single man of checking our
career of glory, all the world will come to see him hanged; but
what signifies the ruin of a nation, if no particular man ruins
it?
The Duchess of Marlborough died the night before last. Thank you
for your descriptions; pray continue them. Mrs. Delany I know a
little, Lord Charlemont's villa is in Chambers's book.(191)
I have nothing new to tell you; but the grain of mustard seed
sown on Monday will soon produce as large a tree as you can find
in any prophecy. Adieu!
P. S. Lady Mary Wortley is arrived.
(189) The Earl of Halifax, lord-lieutenant of Ireland.
(190) The following is Mr. Pitt's own account of this
transaction, in a letter to Alderman Beckford:--"A difference of
opinion with regard to measures to be taken against Spain, of the
highest importance to the Honour of the crown and to the most
essential national interests, and this founded on what Spain had
already done, not on what that court may further intend to do,
was the cause of my resigning, the seals. Lord Temple and I
submitted in writing, and urged our most humble sentiments to his
Majesty; which being overruled by the united opinion of the rest
of the King's servants, I resigned, on Monday the 5th, in order
not to remain responsible for measures which I was no longer
allowed to guide." Chatham Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 158.-E.
(191) Sir William Chambers's "Treatise on Civil Architecture," a
work which Walpole describes as "the most sensible book, and the
most exempt from prejudices, that was ever written on that
science." It first appeared in 1759. A fourth edition, edited by
Mr. Gwin was published in 1825.-E.
letter 96 To George Montagu, Esq.
Strawberry Hill, Oct. 10, 1761. (page 152)
Pray, sir, how does virtue sell in Ireland now? I think for a
province they have now and then given large prices. Have you a
mind to know what the biggest virtue in the world is worth? If
Cicero had been a drawcansir instead of a coward, and had carried
the glory of Rome to as lofty a height as he did their eloquence,
for how much do you think he would have sold all that reputation?
Oh! sold it! you will cry, vanity was his predominant passion; he
would have trampled on sesterces like dirt, and provided the
tribes did but erect statues enough for him, he was content with
a bit of Sabine mutton; he would have preferred his little
Tusculan villa, or the flattery of Caius Atticus at Baia, to the
wealth of Croesus, or to the luxurious banquets of Lucullus.
Take care, there is not a Tory gentleman, if there is one left,
who would not have laid the same wager twenty years ago on the
disinterestedness of my Lord Bath. Come, u tremble, you are so
incorrupt yourself you will give the world Mr. Pitt was so too.
You adore him for what he has done for us; you bless him for
placing England at the head of Europe, and you don't hate him for
infusing as much spirit into us, as if a Montague, Earl of
Salisbury, was still at the head of our enemies. Nothing could
be more just. We owe the recovery of our affairs to him, the
splendour of our country, the conquest of Canada, Louisbourg,
Guadaloupe, Africa, and the East. Nothing is too much for such
services; accordingly, I hope you will not think the barony of
Chatham, and three thousand pounds a-year for three lives too
much for my Lady Hester. She has this pittance: good night!
P. S. I told you falsely in my last that Lady Mary Wortley was
arrived--I cannot help it if my Lady Denbigh cannot read English
in all these years, but mistakes Wrottesley for Wortley.
Letter 97 To The Countess Of Ailesbury.
Strawberry Hill, Oct. 10, 1761. (page 153)
I don't know what business I had, madam, to be an economist: it
was out of' character. I wished for a thousand more drawings in
that sale at Amsterdam, but concluded they would be very dear;
and not having seen them, I thought it too rash to trouble your
ladyship with a large commission. I wish I could give you as
good an account of your commission; but it is absolutely
impracticable. I employed one of the most sensible and
experienced men in the customhouse; and all the result was, he
could only recommend me to Mr. Amyand as the newest, and
consequently the most polite of the commissioners--but the
Duchess of Richmond had tried him before--to no purpose. There
is no way of recovering any of your goods, but purchasing them
again at the sale.
What am I doing, to be talking to you of drawings and chintzes,
when the world is all turned topsy-turvy! Peace, as the poets
would say, is not only returned to heaven, but has carried her
sister Virtue along with her!--Oh! no, peace will keep no such
company--Virtue is an errant strumpet, and loves diamonds as well
as my Lady Harrington, and is as fond of a coronet as my Lord
Melcombe.(192) Worse! worse! She will set men to cutting
throats, and pick their pockets at the same time. I am in such a
passion, I cannot tell you what I am angry about--why, about
Virtue and Mr. Pitt; two errant cheats, gipsies! I believe he
was a comrade of Elizabeth Canning, when he lived at
Enfield-wash. In short, the council were for making peace;
"But he, as loving his own pride, and purposes,
Evades them with a bombast circumstance,
horribly stuffed with epithets of war,
And in conclusion--nonsuits my mediators."
He insisted on a war with Spain, was resisted, and last Monday
resigned. The city breathed vengeance on his opposers, the
council quailed, and the Lord knows what would have happened; but
yesterday, which was only Friday, as this giant was stalking to
seize the tower of London, he stumbled over a silver penny,
picked it up, carried it home to Lady Hester, and they are now as
quiet, good sort of people, as my Lord and Lady Bath who lived in
the vinegar-bottle. In fact, Madam, this immaculate man has
accepted the Barony of Chatham for his wife, with a pension of
three thousand pounds a year for three lives; and though he has
not quitted the House of Commons, I think my Lord Anson would now
be as formidable there. The pension he has left us, is a war for
three thousand lives! perhaps, for twenty times three thousand
lives!--But--
"Does this become a soldier? this become
Whom armies follow'd, and a people loved?"
What! to sneak out of the scrape, prevent peace, and avoid the
war! blast one's character, and all for the comfort of a Paltry
annuity, a long-necked peeress, and a couple of Grenvilles! The
city looks mighty foolish, I believe, and possibly even Beckford
may blush. Lord Temple resigned yesterday: I suppose his virtue
pants for a dukedom. Lord Egremont has the seals; Lord
Hardwicke, I fancy, the privy seal; and George Grenville, no
longer Speaker, is to be the cabinet minister in the House of
Commons. Oh! Madam, I am glad you are inconstant to Mr. Conway,
though it is only with a Barbette! If you piqued yourself on
your virtue, I should expect you would sell it to the master of a
Trechscoot.
I told you a lie about the King's going to Ranelagh--No matter;
there is no such thing as truth. Garrick exhibits the
coronation, and, opening the end of the stage, discovers a real
bonfire and real mob: the houses in Drury-lane let their windows
at threepence a head. Rich is going to produce a finer
coronation, nay, than the real one; for there is to be a dinner
for the Knights of the Bath and the Barons of the Cinque-ports,
which Lord Talbot refused them.
I put your Caufields and Stauntons into the hands of one of the
first heralds upon earth, and who has the entire pedigree of the
Careys; but he cannot find a drop of Howard or Seymour blood in
the least artery about them. Good night, Madam!
(192) Bubb Doddington, having for many years placed his ambition
on the acquisition of a coronet, obtained the long-wished-for
prize in the preceding April.-E.
Letter 98 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Arlington Street, Oct. 12, 1761. (page 154)
It is very lucky that you did not succeed in the expedition to
Rochfort. Perhaps you might have been made a peer; and as
Chatham is a naval title, it might have fallen to your share.
But it was reserved to crown greater glory: and lest it should
not be substantial pay enough, three thousand pounds a year for
three lives go along with it. Not to Mr. Pitt--you can't suppose
it. Why truly, not the title, but the annuity does, and Lady
Hester is the baroness; that, if he should please, he may earn an
earldom himself. Don't believe me, if you have not a mind. I
know I did not believe those who told me. But ask the gazette
that swears it--ask the King, who has kissed Lady Hester--ask the
city of London, who are ready to tear Mr. Pitt to pieces--ask
forty people I can name, who are overjoyed at it--and then ask me
again, who am mortified, and who have been the dupe of his
disinterestedness. Oh, my dear Harry! I beg you on my knees,
keep your virtue: do let me think there is still one man upon
earth who despises money. I wrote you an account last week of his
resignation. Could you have believed that in four days he would
have tumbled from the conquest of Spain to receiving' a quarter's
pension from Mr. West?(193) To-day he has advertised his seven
coach-horses to be sold--Three thousand a year for three lives,
and fifty thousand pounds of his own, will not keep a coach and
six. I protest I believe he is mad, and Lord Temple thinks so
too; for he resigned the same morning that Pitt accepted the
pension. George Grenville is minister of the House of Commons.
I don't know who will be Speaker. They talk of Prowse, Hussey,
Bacon, and even of old Sir John Rushout. Delaval has said an
admirable thing: he blames Pitt not as you and I do; but calls
him fool; and says, if he had gone into the city, told them he
had a poor wife and children unprovided for, and had opened a
subscription, he would have got five hundred thousand pounds,
instead of three thousand pounds a year. In the mean time the
good man has saddled us with a war which we can neither carry on
nor carry off. 'Tis pitiful! 'tis wondrous pitiful! Is the
communication stopped, that we never hear from you? I own 'tis
an Irish question. I am out of humour: my visions are dispelled,
and you are still abroad. As I cannot put Mr. Pitt to death, at
least I have buried him: here is his epitaph:
Admire his eloquence--it mounted higher
Than Attic purity or Roman fire:
Adore his services-our lions view
Ranging, where Roman eagles never flew:
Copy his soul supreme o'er Lucre's sphere;
--But oh! beware three thousand pounds a-year!(194)
October 13.
Jemmy Grenville resigned yesterday. Lord Temple is all
hostility; and goes to the drawing-room to tell every body how
angry he is with the court-but what is Sir Joseph Wittol, when
Nol Bluff is pacific? They talk of erecting a tavern in the city,
called The Salutation: the sign to represent Lord Bath and Mr.
Pitt embracing. These are shameful times. Adieu!
(193) Secretary to the treasury.
(194) Gray also appears to have been greatly offended at this
acceptance of the title and the pension: "Oh!" he exclaim, "that
foolishest of great men, that sold his inestimable diamond for a
paltry peerage and pension! The very night it happened was I
swearing that it was a d-d lie, and never could be: but it was
for want of reading Thomas `a Kempis, who knew mankind so much
better than I." Works, vol. iii. p. 265. Mr. Burke took a very
different view of Mr. Pitt's conduct on this occasion. "With
regard to the pension and title, it is a shame," he says, "that
any defence should be necessary. What eye cannot distinguish, at
the first glance, between this and the exceptionable case of
titles and pensions? What Briton, with the smallest sense of
honour and gratitude, but must blush for his country, if such a
man retired unrewarded from the public service, let the motives
for that retirement be what they would? It was not possible that
his sovereign could let his eminent services pass unrequited: the
sum that was given was inadequate to his merits; and the quantum
was rather regulated by the moderation of the great mind that
received it, than by the liberality of that which bestowed it."-
E.
Letter 99 To George Montagu, Esq.
Strawberry Hill, October 24, 1761. (page 156)
I have got two letters from you, and am sensibly pleased with
your satisfaction. I love your cousin for his behaviour to you;
he will never place his friendship better. His parts and
dignity, I did not doubt, would bear him out. I fear nothing but
your spirits and the frank openness of your heart; keep them
within bounds, and you will return in health, and with the
serenity I wish you long to enjoy.
You have heard our politics; they do not mend, sick of glory,
without being tired of war, and surfeited with unanimity before
it had finished its work, we are running into all kinds of
confusion. The city have bethought themselves, and have voted
that they will still admire Mr. Pitt; consequently, be, without
the cheek of seeming virtue, may do what he pleases. An address
of thanks to hit-() has been carried by one hundred and nine
against fifteen, and the city are to instruct their members; that
is, because we are disappointed of a Spanish war, we must have
one at home. Merciful! how old I am grown! here am I, not liking
a civil war! Do you know me? I am no longer that Gracchus, who,
when Mr. Bentley told him something or other, I don't know what,
would make a sect, answered quickly, "Will it make a party?" In
short, I think I am always to be in contradiction; now I am
loving my country.
Worksop(195) is burnt down; I don't know the circumstances; the
Duke and Duchess are at Bath; it has not been finished a month;
the last furniture was brought in for the Duke of York; I have
some comfort that I had seen it, and, except the bare chambers,
in which the Queen of Scots lodged, nothing remained of ancient
time.
I am much obliged to Mr. Hamilton's civilities; but I don't take
too much to myself; yet it is no drawback to think that he sees
an compliments your friendship for me. I shall use his
permission of sending you any thing that I think will bear the
sea; but how must I send it! by what conveyance to the sea, and
where deliver it? Pamphlets swarm already; none very good, and
chiefly grave; you would not have them. Mr. Glover has published
his long-hoarded Medea,(196) as an introduction to the House of
Commons; it had been more proper to usher him from school to the
University. There are a few good lines, not much conduct, and a
quantity of iambics, and trochaics, that scarce speak English,
and yet have no rhyme to keep one another in countenance. If his
chariot is stopped at Temple-bar, I suppose he will take it for
the Straits of Thermopylae, and be delivered of his first speech
before its time.
The catalogue of the Duke of Devonshire's collection is only in
the six volumes of the Description of London. I did print about
a dozen, and gave them all away so totally that on searching, I
had not reserved one for myself. When we are at leisure, I will
reprint a few more, and you shall have one for your Speaker. I
don't know who is to be ours: Prowse, they say, has refused; Sir
John Cust was the last I heard named: but I am here and know
nothing; sorry that I shall hear any thing on Tuesday se'nnight.
Pray pick me up any prints of lord-lieutenants, Irish bishops,
ladies --nay, or patriots; but I will not trouble you for a
snuff-box or toothpick-case, made of a bit of the Giant's
Causeway.
My anecdotes of Painting will scarcely appear before Christmas.
My gallery and cabinet are at a full stop till spring. but I
shall be sorry to leave it all in ten days; October, that scarce
ever deceived one before, has exhibited a deluge; but it was
recovered, and promised to behave well as long as it lives, like
a dying sinner. Good night!
P. S. My niece lost the coronation for only a daughter. It makes
me smile, when I reflect that you are come into the world again,
and that I have above half left it.
(195) The Duke of norfolk's seat at Worksop Manor,
Nottinghamshire, was burnt down on the 20th of October 1761. The
damage was estimated at one hundred thousand pounds. When the
Duke heard of it, he exclaimed, "God's will be done!" and the
Duchess, "How many besides us are sufferers by the like
calamity!" Evelyn, who visited Worksop in 1654, says, "The manor
belongs to the Earle of Arundel, and has to it a faire house at
the foote of an hill, in a park that affords a delicate
prospect."-E.
(196) Glover's tragedy of Medea was performed several times at
Drury-lane and Covent-garden, for the benefit of Mrs. Yates,
whose spirited acting Gave it considerable effect.-E.
Letter 100 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Strawberry Hill, Oct. 26, 1761. (page 157)
and how strange it seems! You are talking to me of the King's
wedding, while we are thinking of a civil war. Why, the King's
wedding was a century ago, almost two months; even the coronation
things that happened half an age ago, is quite forgot. The post
to Germany cannot keep pace with our revolutions. Who knows but
you may still be thinking that Mr. Pitt is the most disinterested
man in the world? Truly, as far as the votes of a common-council
can make him so, he is. Like Cromwell, he has always promoted
the self-denying ordinance, and has contrived to be excused from
it himself. The city could no longer choose who should be their
man of virtue; there was not one left - by all rules they ought
next to have pitched upon one who was the oldest offender:
instead of that, they have reelected the most recent; and, as if
virtue was a borough, Mr. Pitt is rechosen for it, on vacating
his seat. Well, but all this is very serious: I shall offer a
prophetic picture, and shall be very glad if I am not a true
soothsayer. The city have voted an address of thanks to Mr.
Pitt, and given instructions to their members; the chief articles
of which are, to promote an inquiry into the disposal of the
money that has been granted, and to consent to no peace, unless
we are to retain all, or near all, our conquests. Thus the city
of London usurp the right of making peace and war. But is the
government to be dictated to by one town? By no means. But
suppose they are not -what is the consequence? How will the
money be raised? If it cannot be raised without them, Mr. Pitt
must again be minister: that you think would be easily
accommodated. Stay, stay; he and Lord Temple have declared
against the whole cabinet council. Why, that they have done
before now, and yet have acted with them again. It is very true;
but a little word has escaped Mr. Pitt, which never entered into
his former declarations; nay, nor into Cromwell's, nor Hugh
Capet's, nor Julius Caesar's, nor any reformer's of ancient time.
He has happened to say, he will guide. Now, though the cabinet
council are mighty willing to be guided, when they cannot help
it, yet they wish to have appearances saved: they cannot be fond
of being told they are to be guided still less, that other people
should be told so. Here, then, is Mr. Pitt and the
common-council on one hand, the great lords on the other. I
protest, I do not see but it will come to this. Will it allay
the confusion, if Mr. Fox is retained on the side of the court?
Here are no Whigs and Tories, harmless people, that are content
with worrying one another for i hundred and fifty years together.
The new parties are, I will, and you shall not; and their
principles do not admit delay. However, this age is of suppler
mould than some of its predecessors; and this may come round
again, by a coup de baguette, when one least expects it. If it
should not, the honestest part one can take is to look on, and
try if one can do any good if matters go too far.
I am charmed with the Castle of Hercules;(197) it is the boldest
pile I have seen since I travelled in Fairyland. You ought to
have delivered a princess imprisoned by enchanters in his club:
she, in gratitude, should have fallen in love with you; your
constancy should have been immaculate. The devil knows how it
would have ended--I don't--and so I break off my romance.
You need not beer the French any more this year: it cannot be
ascribed to Mr. Pitt; and the mob won't thank you. If we are to
have a warm campaign in Parliament, I hope you will be sent for.
Adieu! We take the field tomorrow se'nnight.
P. S. You will be sorry to hear that Worksop is burned. My Lady
Waldegrave has got a daughter, and your brother an ague.
(197) Alluding to a description of a building in Hesse Cassel,
given by Mr. Conway in one of his letters.
Letter 101 To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street, Nov. 7, 1761. (page 159)
You will rejoice to hear that your friend Mr. Amyand is going to
marry the dowager Lady Northampton; she has two thousand pounds
a-year, and twenty thousand in money. Old Dunch(198) is dead,
and Mrs. Felton Hervey(199) was given over last night, but is
still alive.
Sir John Cust is Speaker, and bating his nose, the chair seems
well filled. There are so many new faces in this Parliament,
that I am not at all acquainted with it.
The enclosed print will divert you, especially the baroness in
the right-hand corner--so ugly, and so satisfied: the Athenian
head was intended for Stewart; but was so like, that Hogarth was
forced to cut off the nose. Adieu!
(198) Widow of Edmund Dunch, Esq. comptroller of the household of
George the First.-E.
(199) Wife of the Hon. Felton Hervey, ninth son of John, first
Earl of Bristol.-E.
Letter 102 To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street, Nov. 28, 1761. (page 159)
I am much obliged for the notice of Sir Compton's illness; if you
could send me word of peace too, I should be completely satisfied
on Mr. Conway's account. He has been in the late action, and
escaped, at a time that, I flattered myself, the campaign -was at
an end. However, I trust it is now. You will have been
concerned for young Courtney. The war, we hear, is to be
transferred to these islands; most probably to yours. The
black-rod I hope, like a herald, is a sacred personage.
There has been no authentic account of the coronation published;
if there should be, I will send it. When I am at Strawberry, I
believe I can make you out a list of those that walked; but I
have no memorandum in town. If Mr. Bentley's play is printed in
Ireland, I depend on your sending me two copies.
There has been a very private ball at court, consisting of not
above twelve or thirteen couple; some of the lords of the
bedchamber, most of the ladies, the maids of honour, and six
strangers, Lady Caroline Russell, Lady Jane Stewart, Lord
Suffolk, Lord Northampton, Lord Mandeville, and Lord Grey.
Nobody sat by, but the Princess, the Duchess of Bedford, and Lady
Bute. They began before seven, danced till one, and parted
without a supper.
Lady Sarah Lenox has refused Lord Errol; the Duke of Bedford is
privy seal; Lord Thomond cofferer; Lord George Cavendish
comptroller; George Pitt goes minister to Turin; and Mrs. Speed
must go thither, as she is marrying the Baron de Perrier, Count
Virry's son.(200) Adieu! Commend me to your brother.
(200) "My old friend Miss SPeed has done what the world calls a
very foolish thing; she has married the Baron de la Poyri`ere,
son to the Sardinian minister, the Count de Viry. He is about
twenty-eight years old (ten years younger than herself), but
looks nearer This is not the effect of debauchery; for he is a
very sober and good-natured man honest and no conjurer." Gray to
Wliarton. Works, vol. iii. p. 263.-E.
Letter 103 To The Countess Of Ailesbury.
Arlington Street, Nov. 28, 1761. (page 160)
Dear Madam,
You are so bad and so good, that I don't know how to treat you.
You give me every mark of kindness but letting me hear from you.
You send me charming drawings the moment I trouble you with a
commission, and you give Lady Cecilia(201) commissions for
trifles of my writing, in the most obliging manner. I have taken
the latter off her hands.- The Fugitive Pieces, and the Catalogue
of Royal and Noble Authors shall be conveyed to you directly.
Lady Cecilia and I agree how we lament the charming suppers
there, every time we pass the corner of Warwick Street! We have
a little comfort for your sake and our own, in believing that the
campaign is at an end, at least for this year--but they tell us,
it is to recommence here or in Ireland. You have nothing to do
with that. Our politics, I think, will soon be as warm as our
war. Charles Townshend is to be lieutenant-general to Mr. Pitt.
The Duke of Bedford is privy seal; Lord Thomond, cofferer; Lord
George Cavendish, comptroller.
Diversions, you know, Madam, are never at high watermark before
Christmas: yet operas flourish pretty well: those on Tuesdays are
removed to Mondays, because the Queen likes the burlettas, and
the King cannot go on Tuesdays, his postdays. On those nights we
have the middle front box railed in, where Lady Mary(202) and I
sit in triste state like a Lord Mayor and Lady Mayoress. The
night before last there was a private ball at court, which began
at half an hour after six, lasted till one, and finished without
a supper. The King danced the whole time with the Queen, Lady
Augusta with her four younger brothers. The other performers
were: the two Duchesses of Ancaster and Hamilton, who danced
little; Lady Effingham, and Lady Egremont who danced much; the
six maids of honour; Lady Susan Stewart, as attending Lady
Augusta; and Lady Caroline Russel, and Lady Jane Stewart, the
only women not of the family. Lady Northumberland is at Bath;
Lady Weymouth lies in; Lady Bolingbroke was there in Waiting, but
in black gloves, so did not dance. The men, besides the royals,
were Lords March and Lord Eglinton, of the bedchamber: Lord
Cantalope, vice-chamberlain; Lord Huntingdon; and four strangers,
Lord Mandeville, Lord Northampton, lord Suffolk, and lord Grey.
No sitters-by, but the Princess, the Duchess of Bedford, and Lady
Bute.
If it had not been for this ball, I don't know how I should have
furnished a decent letter. Pamphlets on Mr. Pitt are the whole
conversation, and none of them worth sending cross the water: at
least I, who am said to write some of them, think so; by which
you may perceive I am not much flattered with the imputation.
There must be new personages at least, before I write on any
side. Mr. Pitt and the Duke of Newcastle! I should as soon think
of informing the world that Miss Chudleigh is no vestal. You
will like better to see some words which Mr. Gray has writ, at
Miss Speed's request, to an old air of Geminiani: the thought is
from the French.
Thyrsis, when we parted, swore
Ere the spring he would return.
Ah! what means yon violet flower,
And the buds that deck the thorn?
'Twas the lark that upward sprung,
'Twas the nightingale that sung.
Idle notes! untimely green!
Why this unavailing haste?
Western gales and skies serene
Speak not always winter past.
Cease my doubts, my fears to move;
Spare the Honour of my love.
Adieu, Madam, your most faithful servant.
(201) Lady Cecilia Johnston.
(202) lady Mary Coke.
Letter 104 To Sir David Dalrymple.(203)
Nov. 30, 1761. (page 161)
I am much obliged to you, Sir, for the specimen of letters(204)
you have been so good as to send me. The composition is
touching, and the printing very beautiful. I am still more
pleased with the design of the work; nothing gives so just an
idea of an age as genuine letters; nay, history waits for its
last seal from them. I have an immense collection in my hands,
chiefly of the very time on which you are engaged: but they are
not my own.
If I had received your commands in summer when I was at
Strawberry Hill, and at leisure, I might have picked you out
something to your purpose; at present I have not time, from
Parliament and business, to examine them: yet to show you, Sir,
that I have great desire to oblige you and contribute to your
work, I send you the following singular paper, which I have
obtained from Dr. Charles lyttelton, Dean of Exeter, whose name I
will beg you to mention in testimony of his kindness, and as
evidence for the authenticity of the letter, which he copied from
the original in the hands of Bishop Tanner, in the year 1733. It
is from Anne of Denmark, to the Marquis of Buckingham.
"Anna R.,
"My kind dogge, if I have any power or credit with you, let me
have a trial of it at this time, in dealing sincerely and
earnestly with the King, that Sir Walter Raleigh's life may not
be called in question. If you do it, so that the success answer
my expectation, assure yourself that I will take it
extraordinarily kindly at your hands, and rest one that wisheth
you well, and desires you to continue still as you have been, a
true servant to your master."
I have begun Mr. Hume's history, and got almost through the first
volume. It is amusing to one who ]knows a little of his own
country, but I fear would not teach much to a beginner; details
are so much avoided by him, and the whole rather skimmed than
elucidated. I cannot say I think it very carefully performed.
Dr. Robertson's work I should expect would be more accurate.
P. S. There has lately appeared, in four little volumes, a
Chinese Tale, called Hau Kiou Choaan,(205) not very entertaining
from the incidents, but I think extremely so from the novelty of
the manner and the genuine representation of their customs.
(203) Now first collected.
(204) Probably Sir David's "Memorials and Letters relating to the
History of Britain in the Reigns of James the First and Charles
the First," which were published in 1766, from the originals in
the Advocates' Library.-E.
(205) This pleasing little novel, in which the manners of the
Chinese are painted to the life, was a translation from the
Chinese by Mr. Wilkinson, and revised for publication by Dr.
Percy.-E.
Letter 105 To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street, Dec. 8, 1761. (page 162)
I return you the list of prints, and shall be glad you will bring
me all to which I have affixed this mark X. The rest I have; yet
the expense of the whole list would not ruin me. Lord Farnham,
who, I believe, departed this morning, brings you the list of the
Duke of Devonshire's pictures.
I have been told that Mr. Bourk's history was of England, not of
Ireland; I am glad it is the latter, for I am now in Mr. Hume's
England, and would fain read no more. I not only know what has
been written, but what would be written. Our story is so
exhausted, that to make it new, they really make it new. Mr.
Hume has exalted Edward the Second and depressed Edward the
Third. The next historian, I suppose, will make James the First
a hero, and geld Charles the Second.