(606) General Conway and Mr. Walpole seem to have taken the

argument on too low a scale. Their anxiety seems to have been,

to show that the General was not in decided opposition; thereby

appearing to admit, that if he had been so, the dismissal would

have been justifiable. It is however clear from Mr. Walpole's

own accounts, that Conway was considered as not only in

opposition, but as one of the most distinguished leaders of the

party, --and so the public thought: witness the following extract

from "a letter" from Albemarle-street to the Cocoa-tree,

published about this period:--"Amongst the foremost stands a

gallant general, pointed out for supreme command by the unanimous

voice of his grateful country: England has a Conway, the powers

of whose eloquence, Inspired by his zeal for liberty, animated by

the fire of true genius, and furnished with a sound knowledge of

the constitution, at once entertain, ravish, convince, conquer:--

such noble examples are the riches of the present age, the

treasures of posterity."-C.

(607) On this occasion, Lord Hertford, the Duke of Devonshire,

and Mr. Horace Walpole (each without the knowledge of the others)

pressed General Conway to accept from them an income equivalent

to what he had lost.-C.

(608) Within little more than a year Mr. Conway was secretary of

state, and leader of the House of Commons.-E.

Letter 207 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.

Arlington Street, April 24, 1764. (page 320)

I rejoice that you feel your loss so little. That you act with

dignity and propriety does not surprise me. To have you behave

in character, and with character, is my first of all wishes; for

then it will not be in the power of man to make you unhappy. Ask

yourself--is there a man in England with whom you would change

character? Is there a man in England who would not change with

you? Then think how little they have taken away!

For me, I shall certainly conduct myself as you prescribe. Your

friend shall say and do nothing unworthy of your friend. You

govern me in every thing but one: I mean, the disposition I have

told you I shall make. Nothing can alter that but a great change

in your fortune. In another point, you partly misunderstood me.

That I shall explain hereafter.

I shall certainly meet you here on Sunday, and very cheerfully.

We may laugh at a world in which nothing of us will remain long

but our characters. Yours eternally.

Letter 208 The Hon. H. S. Conway To The Earl Of Hertford.

London, May 1, 1764. (page 320)

I wrote a letter some days ago from the country, which. I am

sorry to find, does not set out till to-,day, having been given

to M. des Ardrets by Horace Walpole, as it was one I did not

choose to send by the post just at this time, though God knows

there was less in it, I think, than almost any but myself would

have said on such an occasion. I am sorry it did not go, as it

must seem very strange to you to hear on that subject from any

body before me: had it been possible, at the same time, I should

have wished not to write to you upon it at all. It is a

satisfaction, in most situations, certainly, to communicate even

one's griefs to those friends to whom one can do it in

confidence, but it is a pain where one thinks it must give them

any; and I assure you, I feel this sincerely from the share I

know your goodness will take in this, upon my account; as well as

that which, in some respects, it may give you on your own: as

'the particular distinction with which I am honoured beyond so

many of my brother officers who have so much more directly,

declaredly, and long been in real opposition to the ministry, has

great unkindness in it to all those friends of mine who have been

acting in their support. However, I would not, on any account,

that you or any of them should, for my sake, be drove a single

step beyond what is for their actual interest and inclination.

Nay, I Would not have the latter operate by itself, as I know,

from their goodness how bad a guide that might be. I do not

exactly know the grounds upon which the ministry made choice of

me as the object of their vengeance for a crime so general, The

only one I have heard, has certainly no weight; it was, that if I

was turned out of the bedchamber, and not my regiment, it would

be a sanction given for military men to oppose--that distinction

had before been destroyed by the dismission of three military

men; nor did my remaining in the army afterwards any more

establish it, than any other man's; it was a paltry excuse for a

thing they had a mind to do: the real motives or authors I cannot

yet quite ascertain. I hope, though they turned me out, they

cannot disgrace me, as I presume they wish; at least, so (my

friends flatter me) the language of the world goes, and I have at

least the satisfaction of being really ignorant myself, by what

part of the civil or military behaviour I could deserve so very

unkind a treatment. I am sure it was not for want of any

respect, duty, or attachment to his Majesty. I shall at present

say no more on the subject.

I have heard from two or three different quarters, of a

disagreeable accident you have had in your chaise, and calling by

chance at the Duke of Grafton's this morning, he read me a

postscript in a letter of yours, wherein you describe it as a

thing of no consequence. I was rejoiced to hear @it, and should

have been obliged for a line from any of your family to tell me

so; for one often hears those things so disagreeably represented,

that it is pleasant to know the truth.

You are delightful in writing me a long letter the other day, and

never mentioning M. de Pompadour's death; so that I flatly

contradicted it at first, to those that told me of it. I am

obliged to you for your intention of showing civility to my

friend Colonel Keith; I think you will like him.

I hear in town, that we have some little disputes stirring up

with our new friends on your side the water, about the limits of

their fishery on Newfoundland, and a fort building On St. Pierre:

but I speak from no authority.

We are all sorry here at a surmise, that M. de Guerchy does not

intend to return among us, being too much hurt at the behaviour

of his friends of the ministry in those letters so infamously

published by D'Eon. I hope it is only report. Adieu! dear

brother: give my love and compliments to all your family, as also

Lady Aylesbury's; and believe me ever sincerely and

affectionately yours, H. S. C.

I am here only for a few days, having, as you will imagine, not

many temptations to keep me from the country at this time.

I hope, by this time, your pheasants, etc., are safe at the end

of their journey,.

Letter 209 To George Montagu, Esq.

Arlington Street, May 10, 1764. (page 322)

I hope I have done well for you, and that you will be content

with the execution of your commission. I have bought you two

pictures. No. 14, which is by no means a good picture, but it

went so cheap and looked so old-fashionably, that I ventured to

give eighteen shillings for it. The other is very pretty, no,

17; two sweet children, undoubtedly by Sir Peter Lely. This

costs you four pounds ten shillings; what shall I do with them--

how convey them to you? The picture of Lord Romney, which you

are so fond of, was not in this sale, but I suppose remains with

Lady Sidney. I bought for myself much the best picture in the

auction, a fine Vandyke of the famous Lady Carlisle and her

sister Leicester in one piece: it cost me nine-and-twenty

guineas.

In general the pictures did not go high, which I was glad of;

that the vulture, who sells them, may not be more enriched than

could be helped. There was a whole-length of Sir Henry Sidney,

which I should have liked, but it went for fifteen guineas. Thus

ends half the glory of Penshurst! Not one of the miniatures was

sold.

I go to Strawberry to-morrow for a week. When do you come to

Frogmore? I wish to know, because I shall go soon to Park-place,

and would not miss the visit you have promised me. Adieu! Yours

ever, H.W.

Letter 210 To The Earl Of Hertford.

Arlington Street, May 27, 1764. Very late. (page 322)

My dear lord,

I am just come home, and find a letter from you, which gives me

too much pain(609) to let me resist answering it directly though

past one in the morning, as I go out of town early to-morrow.

I must begin with telling You, let me feel what I will from it,

how much I admire it. It is equal to the difficulty of your

situation, and expressed with all the feeling which must possess

you. I will show it your brother, as there is nothing I would

not and will not, do to preserve the harmony and friendship which

has so much distinguished your whole lives.

You have guessed, give me leave to say, at my wishes, rather than

answered to any thing I have really expressed. The truth was, I

had no right to deliver any opinion on so important a step as you

have taken, without being asked. Had you consulted me, which

certainly was not proper for you to do, it would have been with

the utmost reluctance that I should have brought myself to utter

my sentiments, and only then, if I had been persuaded that

friendship exacted it from me; for it would have been a great

deal for me to have taken upon myself: it would have been a step,

either way, liable to subject me to reproach from you in your own

mind, though you would have been too generous to have blamed me

in any other way. Now, my dear lord, do me the justice to say,

that the part I have acted was the most proper and most

honourable one I could take. Did I, have I dropped a syllable,

endeavouring to bias your judgment one way or the other? My

constant language has been, that I could not think, when a

younger brother had taken a part disagreeable to his elder, and

totally opposite, even without consulting him, that the elder,

was under any obligation to relinquish his own opinion, and adopt

the younger's. In my heart I undoubtedly wished, that even in

party your union should not be dissolved; for that Union would be

the strength of both.

This is the summary of a text on which I have infinitely more to

say; but the post is so far from being a proper conveyance, that

I think the most private letter transmitted in the most secure

manner is scarcely to be trusted. Should I resolve, if you

require it, to be more explicit, (and I certainly shall not think

of saying a word more, unless I know that it is strongly your

desire I should,) it must only be upon the most positive

assurance on your honour (and on their honour as strictly given

too) that not a syllable of what I shall say shall be

communicated to any person living. I except nobody, except my

Lady and Lord Beauchamp. What I should say now is now Of no

consequence, but for your information. It can tend to nothing

else. It therefore does not signify, whether said now, or at any

distant time hereafter, or when we meet. If, as perhaps you may

at first suppose, it had the least view towards making you quit

your embassy, you should not know it at all; for I think that

would be the idlest and most unwise step you could take; and

believe me, my affection for your brother will never make me

sacrifice your honour to his interest . I have loved you both

unalterably, and without the smallest cloud between us, from

children. It is true, as you observe, that party, with many

other mischiefs, produces dissensions in families. I can by no

means agree with you, that all party is founded in interest--

surely, you cannot think that your brother's conduct was not the

result of the most unshaken honour and conscience, and as surely

the result of no interested motive? You are not less mistaken,

if you believe that the present state of party in this country is

not of a most serious nature, and not a mere contention for power

and employments.(610) That topic, however, I shall pass over;

the discussion, perhaps, would end where it began. As you know I

never tried to bring you to my opinion before, I am very unlikely

to aim at it now. Let this and the rest of this subject sleep

for the present. I trust I have convinced you that my behaviour

has been both honourable and respectful towards you: and that,

though I think with your brother and am naturally very warm, I

have acted in the most dispassionate manner, and had recourse to

nothing but silence, when I was not so happy as to meet you in

opinion.

This subject has kept me so long, and it is so very late, that

you will forgive me if I only skim over the gazette part of my

letter--my next shall be more in my old gossiping style.

Dr. Terrick and Dr. Lambe are made Bishops of London and

Peterborough, without the nomination or approbation of the

ministers. The Duke of Bedford declared this warmly, for you

know his own administration(611) always allow him to declare his

genuine opinion, that they may have the credit of making him

alter it. He was still more surprised at the Chancellor's being

made an earl(612) without his knowledge, after he had gone out of

town, blaming the Chancellor's coldness on D'Eon's affair, which

is now dropped. Three marquisates going to be given to Lords

Cardigan, Northumberland, and Townshend, may not please his grace

more, though they may his minister,(613) who may be glad his

master is angry, as it may produce a good quieting draught for

himself.

The Northumberlands are returned; Hamilton is dismissed,(614) and

the Earl of Drogheda(615) made secretary in his room.

Michell(616) is recalled by desire of this court, who requested

to have it done without giving their reasons, as Sir Charles

Williams(617) had been sent from Berlin in the same manner.

Colonel Johnson is also recalled from Minorca. He had been very

wrongheaded with his governors Sir Richard;(618) that wound was

closed, when the judicious deputy chose to turn out a

brother-in-law of Lord Bute. Lady Falkener's daughter is to be

married to a young rich Mr. Crewe,(619) a maccarone, and of our

loo. Mr. Skreene has married Miss Sumner, and her brother gives

her 10,000 pounds. Good night! The watchman cries three!

(609) It seems that Mr. Walpole, in one of the letters not found,

had expressed a desire that Lord Hertford should resent, in some

decided manner, the dismissal of his brother: but he, in the

course of this letter, recollects that as the younger brother had

acted not only without concert with Lord Hertford, but in direct

opposition to his opinion and advice, there was no kind of reason

why his lordship should take any extreme steps.-C.

(610) Yet, in frequent preceding passages, Mr. Walpole represents

the conflicts of parties as only a contention for power and

place.-C.

(611) He means the Duke's political friends, Mr. Rigby, etc.-C.

(612) The Earl of Northington.

(613) Mr. Rigby.

(614) See ant`e, p. 256, Letter 182.

(615) Charles, Earl and first Marquis of Drogheda, Who married

Lord Hertford's sister; he died in 1823, at a great age.-E.

(616) Minister from the court of Prussia to London.-E.

(617) Sir C. H. Williams had been minister, both at Berlin and

St. Petersburgh.-E.

(618) Sir Richard Lyttelton.-E.

(618) John Crewe, Esq. married, 17th May, 1764, to Miss Fawkener,

the daughter of sir Everard Fawkener, who died in 1758, one of

the postmasters-general.-E.

Letter 211 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.

Arlington Street, June 5, 1764. (page 325)

You will wonder that I have been so long without giving you any

signs of life; yet, though not writing to you, I have been

employed about you, as I have ever since the 21st of April; a day

your enemies shall have some cause to remember. I had writ nine

or ten sheets of an answer to the "Address to the Public," when I

received the enclosed mandate.(620) You will see my masters

order me, as a subaltern of the exchequer, to drop you and defend

them--but you will see too, that, instead of obeying, I have

given warning. I would not communicate any part of this

transaction to you, till it was out of my hands, because I knew

your affection for me would not approve of in going so far--but

it was necessary. My honour required that I should declare my

adherence to you in the most authentic manner. I found that some

persons had dared to doubt whether I would risk every thing for

you. You see by these letters that Mr. Grenville himself had

presumed so. Even a change in the administration, however

unlikely, might happen before I had any opportunity of declaring

myself; and then those who should choose to put the worst

construction, either on my actions or my silence, might say what

they pleased. I was waiting for some opportunity: they have put

it into my hands, and I took care not to let It slip. Indeed

they have put more into my hands, which I have not let slip

neither. Could I expect they would give me so absurd an account

of Mr. Grenville's conduct, and give it to me in writing? They

can only add to this obligation that of provocation to print my

letter, which, however strong in facts, I have taken care to make

very decent in terms, because it imports us to have the candid

(that is,. I fear, the mercenary) on our side;--no, that we must

not expect, but at least disarmed.

Lord Tavistock has flung his handkerchief to Lady Elizabeth

Keppel. They all go to Woburn on Thursday, and the ceremony is

to be performed as soon as her brother, the bishop, can arrive

from Exeter. I am heartily glad the Duchess of Bedford does not

set her heart on marrying me to any body; I am sure she would

bring it about. She has some small intention Of coupling my

niece and Dick Vernon, but I have forbidden the banns.

The birthday, I hear, was lamentably empty. We had a loo last

night in the great chamber at Lady Bel Finch's: the Duke,

Princess Emily, and the Duchess of Bedford were there. The

Princess entertained her grace with the joy the Duke of Bedford

will have in being a grandfather; in which reflection, I believe,

the grandmotherhood was not forgotten. Adieu!

(620) The paper here alluded to does not appear.

Letter 212To The Earl Of Hertford.

Strawberry Hill, June 8, 1764. (page 326)

To be sure, you have heard the event of' this last week? Lord

Tavistock has flung his handkerchief, and except a few jealous

sultanas, and some sultanas valides who had marketable daughters,

every body is pleased that the lot is fallen on Lady Elizabeth

Keppel.(621)

The house of Bedford came to town last Friday. I supped with

them that night at the Spanish Ambassador's, who has made Powis-

house magnificent. Lady Elizabeth was not there nor mentioned.

On the contrary, by the Duchess's conversation, which turned on

Lady Betty Montagu,(622) there were suspicions in her favour.

The next morning Lady Elizabeth received a note from the Duchess

of Marlborough,(623) insisting on seeing her that evening. When

she arrived at Marlborough-house, she found nobody but the

Duchess and Lord Tavistock. The Duchess cried, "Lord! they have

left the window open in the next room!"--went to shut it, and

shut the lovers in too, where they remained for three hours. The

same night all the town was at the Duchess of Richmond's. Lady

Albemarle(624) was at tredille; the Duke of Bedford came up to

the table, and told her he must speak to her as soon as the pool

was over. You may guess whether she knew a card more that she

played. When she had finished, the Duke told her he should wait

on her the next morning, to make the demand in form. She told it

directly to me and my niece Waldegrave, who was in such transport

for her friend, that she promised the Duke of Bedford to kiss

him, and hurried home directly to write to her sisters.(625) The

Duke asked no questions about fortune, but has since slipped a

bit of paper into Lady Elizabeth's hand, telling her, he hoped

his son would live, but if he did not, there was something for

her; it was a jointure of three thousand pounds a-year, and six

hundred pounds pin-money. I dined with her the next day, at

Monsieur de Guerchy's, and as I hindered the company from wishing

her joy, and yet joked with her myself, Madame de Guerchy said,

she perceived I would let nobody else tease her, that I might

have all the teasing to myself She has behaved in the prettiest

manner, in the world, and would not appear at a vast assembly at

Northumberland-house on Tuesday, nor at a great haymaking at Mrs.

Pitt's on Wednesday. Yesterday they all went to Woburn, and

tomorrow the ceremony is to be performed; for the Duke has not a

moment's patience till she is breeding.

You would have been diverted at Northumberland-house; Besides the

sumptuous liveries, the illuminations in the garden, the pages,

the two chaplains in waiting in their gowns and scarves, `a

l'Irlandaise,(626) and Dr. Hill and his wife, there was a most

delightful Countess, who has Just imported herself from

Mecklenburgh. She is an absolute princess of Monomotapa; but I

fancy you have seen her. for her hideousness and frantic

accoutrements are so extraordinary, that they tell us she was

hissed in the Tuileries. She crossed the drawing-room on the

birthday to speak to the Queen en amie, after standing with her

back to Princess Amelia. The queen was so ashamed of her, that

she said cleverly, "This is not the dress at Strelitz; but this

woman always dressed herself as capriciously there, as your

Duchess of Queensberry does here."

The haymaking at Wandsworth-hill(627) did not succeed from the

excessive cold of the night; I proposed to bring one of the cocks

into the great room, and make a bonfire. All the beauties were

disappointed, and all the macaronies afraid of getting the

toothache.

The Guerchys are gone to Goodwood, and were to have been carried

to Portsmouth, but Lord Egmont(628) refused to let the ambassador

see the place. The Duke of Richmond was in a rage, and I do not

know how it has ended, for the Duke of Bedford defends the

refusal, and says, they certainly would not let you see Brest.

The Comte d'Ayen is going a longer tour. he is liked here. The

three great ambassadors danced at court--the Prince of Masserano

they say well; he is extremely in fashion, and is a sensible very

good-humoured man, though his appearance is so deceitful. They

have given me the honour of a bon-mot, which, I assure you, does

not belong to me, that I never saw a man so full of orders and

disorders. He and his suite, and the Guerchys and theirs, are to

dine here next week. Poor little Strawberry never thought of

such f`etes. I did invite them to breakfast, but they confounded

it, and understood that they were asked to dinner, so I must do

as well as I can. Both the ambassadors are in love with my

niece;(629) therefore, I trust they will not have unsentimental

stomachs.

Shall I trouble you with a little commission? It is to send me a

book that I cannot get here, nor am I quite sure of the exact

title, but it is called "Origine des Moeurs,"(630) or something

to that import. It is in three volumes, and has not been written

above two or three years. Adieu, my dear lord, from my fireside.

P. S. Do you know that Madame de Yertzin, The Mecklenburgh

Countess, has had the honour of giving the King of Prussia a box

of the ear?--I am sure he deserved it, if he could take liberties

with such a chimpanzee. Colonel Elliot died on Thursday.

(621) the Daughter of the second Earl of Albemarle; she was born

in 1739.-E.

(622) See ant`e, p. 304, letter 198.

(623) Caroline Russel, sister of the Duke of Bedford.-E.

(624) Anne, daughter of Charles, first Duke of Richmond.-E.

(625) Lady Dysart and Mrs. Keppel; the latter was married to Lady

Elizabeth's brother.-E.

(626) Lord Northumberland was still lord-lieutenant of

Ireland.-E.

(627) Mrs. Pitt's villa.

(628) First lord of the admiralty.

(629) Lady Waldegrave.

(630) In a subsequent letter, he calls this work "Essais les

Moeurs." I find a work of the latter title published in 1756

anonymously, and under the date of Bruxelles. It was written by

a M. Soret, but it seems to have been in only one volume. Can

Mr. Walpole have meant Duclos's celebrated "Considerations sur

les Moeurs," published anonymously in 1750, but subsequently

under his name?--C.

Letter 213 To George Montagu, Esq.

Strawberry Hill, June 18, 1764. (page 328)

I trust that you have thought I was dead, it is so long since you

heard of me. In truth I had nothing to talk of but cold and hot

weather, of rain and want Of rain, subjects that have been our

summer conversation for these twenty years. I am pleased that

you was content with your pictures, and shall be glad if you have

ancestors out of them. You may tell your uncle Algernon that I

go to-morrow, where he would not be ashamed to see me; as there

are not many such spots at present, you and he will guess it is

to Park-place.

Strawberry, whose glories perhaps verge towards their setting-,

have been more sumptuous to-day than ordinary, and banquetted

their representative majesties of France and Spain. I had

Monsieur and Madame de Guerchy, Mademoiselle de Nangis their

daughter, two other French gentlemen, the Prince of Masserano,

his brother and secretary, Lord March, George Selwyn, Mrs. ADD

Pitt, and my niece Waldegrave. The refectory never was so

crowded; nor have any foreigners been here before that

comprehended Strawberry. Indeed, every thing succeeded to a

hair. A violent shower in the morning laid the dust, brightened

the green, refreshed the roses, pinks, orange-flowers, and the

blossoms with which the acacias are covered. A rich storm of

thunder and lightning gave a dignity of colouring to the heavens;

and the sun appeared enough to illuminate the landscape, without

basking himself over it at his length. During dinner there were

French horns and clarionets in the cloister, and after coffee I

treated them with an English, and to them a very new collation, a

syllabub milked Under the cows that were brought to the brow of

the terrace. Thence they went to the printing-house, and saw a

new fashionable French song printed. They drank tea in the

gallery, and at eight went away to Vauxhall.

They really seemed quite pleased with the place and the day; but

I must tell you, the treasury of the abbey will feel it, for

without magnificence, all was handsomely done. I must keep

maigre; at least till the interdict is taken off from my convent.

I have kings and queens, I hear, in my neighbourhood, but this is

no royal foundation. Adieu; your poor beadsman, The Abbot Of

Strawberry.

P. S. Mr. T***'s servile poem is rewarded with one hundred and

sixty pounds a ),ear in the post-office.

Letter 214 To George Montagu, Esq.

Strawberry Hill, July 16, 1764. (page 329)

mr. chute says you are peremptory that you will not cast a look

southwards. Do you know that in that case you will not set eyes

on me the Lord knows when? My mind is pretty much fixed on going

to Paris the beginning of September. I think I shall go, if it

is only to scold my Lord and Lady Hertford for sending me their

cousins, the Duke and Duchess of Berwick, who say they are come

to see their relations. By their appearance, you would imagine

they were come to beg money of their family. He has just the

sort of capacity which you would expect in a Stuart engrafted on

a Spaniard. He asked me which way he was to come to Twickenham?

I told him through Kensington, to which I supposed his geography

might reach. He replied, "Oh! du cot`e de la mer." She, who is

sister of the Duke of Alva, is a decent kind of a body: but they

talk wicked French. I gave them a dinner here t'other day, with

the Marquis of Jamaica, their only child, and a fat tutor, and

the few Fitzroys I could amass at this season. They were very

civil, and seemed much pleased. To-day they arc gone to Blenheim

by invitation. I want to send you something from the Strawberry

press; tell me how I shall convey it; it is nothing less than the

most curious book that ever set its foot into the world. I

expect to hear you scream hither: if you don't I shall be

disappointed, for I have kept it as a most profound secret from

you, till I was ready to surprise you with it: I knew your

impatience, and would not let you have it piecemeal. It is the

Life of the great philosopher, Lord Herbert, written by

himself.(631) Now are you disappointed? Well, read it--not the

first forty pages, of which you will be sick--I will not

anticipate it, but I will tell you the history. I found it a

year ago at Lady Hertford's, to whom Lady Powis had lent it. I

took it up, and soon threw it down again, as the dullest thing I

ever saw. She persuaded me to take it home. My Lady Waldegrave

was here in all her grief; Gray and I read it to amuse her. We

could not get on for laughing, and screaming. I begged to have

it to print: Lord Powis, sensible of the extravagance, refused--I

persisted--he persisted. I told my Lady Hertford, it was no

matter, I would print it, I was determined. I sat down and wrote

a flattering dedication to Lord Powis, which I knew he would

swallow: he did, and gave up his ancestor. But this was not

enough; I was resolved the world should not think I admired it

seriously, though there are really fine passages in it, and good

sense too: I drew up an equivocal preface, in which you will

discover my opinion, and sent it with the dedication. The Earl

gulped down the one under the palliative of the other, and here

you will have all. Pray take notice Of the pedigree, of which I

am exceedingly proud; observe how I have clearly arranged so

involved a descent: one may boast at one's heraldry. I shall

send you too Lady Temple's poems.(632) Pray keep both under lock

and key, for there are but two hundred copies of Lord Herbert,

and but one hundred of the poems suffered to be printed.

I am almost crying to find the glorious morsel of summer, that we

have had, turned into just such a watery season as the last.

Even my excess of verdure, which used to comfort me for every

thing, does not satisfy me now, as I live entirely alone. I am

heartily tired of my large neighbourhood, who do not furnish me

two or three rational beings at most, and the best of them have

no vivacity. London, Whither I go at least once a fortnight for

a night, is a perfect desert. As the court is gone into a

convent at Richmond, the town is more abandoned than ever. I

cannot, as you do, bring myself to be content without variety,

without events; my mind is always wanting new food; summer does

not suit me; but I will grow old some time or other. Adieu!

(631) Printed in quarto, This was the first edition of this

celebrated piece of autobiography. It was reprinted at Edinburgh

in 1807, with a prefatory notice, understood to be by Sir Walter

Scott; and a third edition, which also contained his letters

written during his residence at the French court, was published

in 1826.-E.

(632) Poems by Anna Chambers, Countess Temple.-E.

Letter 215 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Strawberry Hill, July 16, 1764. (page 330)

Dear Sir,

You must think me a brute to have been so long without taking any

notice of your obliging offer of coming hither. The truth is, I

have not been at all settled here for three days together: nay,

nor do I know when I shall be. I go tomorrow into Sussex; in

August into Yorkshire, and in September into France. If, in any

interval of these jaunts, I Can be sure of remaining here a week,

which I literally have not been this whole summer, I will

certainly let you know, and will claim your promise.

Another reason for my writing now is, I want to know how I may

send you Lord Herbert's Life, which I have just printed. Did I

remember the favour you did me of asking for my own print? if I

did not, it shall accompany this book.

Letter 216 To The Rev. Henry Zouch.

Arlington Street, July 21, 1764. (page 330)

Sir,

You will have heard of the severe attendance which we have had

for this last week in the House of Commons. It will, I trust,

have excused me to you for not having answered sooner your very

kind letter. My books, I fear, have no merit over Mr. Harte's

Gustavus, but by being much shorter. I read his work, and was

sorry so much curious matter should be so ill and so tediously,

put together. His anecdotes are much more interesting than mine;

luckily I was aware that mine were very trifling, and did not

dwell upon them. To answer the demand, I am printing them with

additions, but must wait a little for assistance and corrections

to the two latter, as I have had for the former.

You are exceedingly obliging, Sir, to offer me one of your

Fergussons. I thank you for it, as I ought; but, in truth, I

have more pictures than room to place them; both my houses are

full, and I have even been thinking of getting rid of some I

have. That this is no declension of your civility, Sir, you will

see, when I gladly accept either of your medals of King Charles.

I shall be proud to keep it as a mark of your friendship; but

then I will undoubtedly rob you of but one.

I condole with you, Sir, for the loss of your friend and

relation, as I heartily take my share in whatever concerns you.

The great and unmerited kindness I have received from you will

ever make me your most obliged, etc.

Letter 217To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Arlington Street, July 21, 1764. (page 331)

Dear Sir,

I must never send you trifles; for you always make me real

presents in return. The beauty of the coin surprises me. Mr.

White must be rich, when such are his duplicates. I am

acquainted with him, and have often intended to visit his

collection; but it is one of those things one never does, because

one always may. I give you a thousand thanks in return, and what

are not worth more, my own print, Lord Herbert's Life, (this is

curious, though it cost me little,) and some orange flowers. I

wish you had mentioned the latter sooner: I have had an amazing

profusion this year, and given them away to the right and left by

handfuls. These are all I could collect to-day, as I was coming

to town; but you shall have more if you want them.

I consign these things as you ordered - I wish the print may

arrive without being rumpled: it is difficult to convey

mezzotintos; but if this is spoiled you shall have another.

If I make any stay in France, which I do not think I shall, above

six weeks at most, you shall certainly hear from me but I am a

bad commissioner for searching you out a hermitage. It is too

much against my interest- and I had much rather find you one in

the neighbourhood of Strawberry. Adieu!

Letter 218 To The Earl Of Hertford.

Strawberry Hill, August 3, 1764. (page 332)

As my letters are seldom proper for the post now, I begin them at

any time, and am forced to trust to chance for a conveyance.

This difficulty renders my news very stale: but what can I do?

There does not happen enough at this season of' the year to fill

a mere gazette. I should be more sorry to have you think me

silent too long. You must be so good as to recollect, when there

is a large interval between my letters, that I have certainly one

ready in my writing-box, and only wait for a messenger. I hope

to send this by Lord Coventry. For the next three weeks, indeed,

I shall not be able to write, as I go in a few days with your

brother to Chatsworth and Wentworth Castle.

I am under more distress about my visit to you--but I will tell

you the truth. As I think the Parliament Will not meet before

Christmas, though they now talk of it for November, I would quit

our Politics for a few weeks; but the expense frightens me, which

did not use to be one of my fears. I cannot but expect, knowing

the enemies I have, that the treasury may distress me.(633) I

had laid by a little sum which I intended to bawble away at

Paris; but I may have very serious occasion for it. The recent

example of Lord Holderness,(634) Who has had every rag seized at

the Custom-house, alarms my present prudence. I cannot afford to

buy even clothes, which I may lose in six weeks. These

considerations dispose me to wait till I see a little farther

into this chaos. You know enough of the present actors in the

political drama to believe that the present system is not a

permanent one, nor likely to roll on till Christmas without some

change. The first moment that I can quit party with honour, I

shall seize. It neither suits my inclination nor the years I

have lived in the world; for though I am not old, I have been in

the world so long, and seen so much of those who figure in it,

that I am heartily sick of its commerce. My attachment to your

brother, and the apprehension that fear of my own interest would

be thought the cause if I took no part for him, determined me to

risk every thing rather than abandon him. I have done it, and

cannot repent, whatever distresses may follow. One's good name

is of more consequence than all the rest, my dear lord. Do not

think I say this with the least disrespect to you; it is only to

convince you that I did not recommend any thing to you that I

would avoid myself; nor engaged myself, nor wished to engage you,

in party from pique, resentment, caprice, or choice. I am dipped

in it much against my inclination. I can suffer by it infinitely

more than you could. But there are moments when one must take

one's part like a man. This I speak solely with regard to

myself. I allow fairly and honestly that you was not

circumstanced as I was. You had not voted with your brother as I

did; the world knew your inclinations were different. All this

certainly composed serious reasons for you not to follow him, if

you did not choose it. My motives for thinking you had better

have espoused his cause were for your own sake - I detailed those

motives to you in my last long letter; that opinion is as strong

within me as ever.

The affront to you, the malice that aimed that affront, the

importance that it gives one, upon the long-run to act steadily

and uniformly with one's friends, the enemies you make in the

opposition, composed of so many great families, and of your own

principal allies,(635) and the little merit you gain with the

ministry by the contrary conduct,--all these were, to me,

unanswerable reasons, and remain so, for what I advised; yet, as

I told you before, I think the season is passed, and that you

must wait for an opportunity of disengaging yourself with credit.

I am persuaded that occasion will be given you, from one or other

of the causes I mentioned in my last; and if the fairest is, I

entreat you by the good wishes which I am sure you know from my

soul I bear you, to seize it. Excuse me: I know I go too far,

but my heart is set on your making a great figure, and your

letters are so kind, that they encourage me to speak with a

friendship which I am sensible is not discreet:--but you know you

and your brother have ever been the objects of my warmest

affection and however partial you may think me to him, I must

labour to have the world think as highly of you, and to unite you

firmly for your lives. If this was not my motive, you must be

sure I should not be earnest. It is not one vote in the House of

Lords that imports us. Party is grown so Serious,(636) and will,

I doubt, become every day more so, that one must make one's

option; and it will go to my soul to see you embarked against all

your friends, against the Whig principles you have ever

professed, and with men, amongst whom you have not one

well-wisher, and with whom you will not even be able to remain

upon tolerable terms, unless you take a vigorous part against all

you love and esteem.

In warm times lukewarmness is a crime with those on whose side

you are ranged. Your good sense and experience will judge

whether what I say is not strictly the case. It is not your

brother or I that have occasioned these circumstances. Lord Bute

has thrown this country into a confusion which will not easily be

dissipated without serious hours. Changes may, and, as I said in

the beginning of my letter, will probably happen but the seeds

that have been sown will not be rooted up by one or two

revolutions in the cabinet. It had taken an hundred and fifty

years(637) to quiet the animosities of Whig and Tory; that

contest is again set on foot, and though a struggle for places

may be now, as has often been, the secret purpose of principals,

the court and the nation are engaging on much deeper springs of

action. I wish I could elucidate this truth, as I have the rest,

but that is not fit for paper, nor to be comprised within the

compass of a letter;--I have said enough to furnish you with

ample reflections. I submit all to your own judgment:--I have

even acted rightly by YOU, in laying before you what it was not

easy for you, my dear lord, to see or know at a distance. I

trust all to your indulgence, and your acquaintance with my

character, which surely is not artful or mysterious, and which,

to you, has ever been, as it ever shall be, most cordial and

well-intentioned. I come to my gazette.

There is nothing new, but the resignation of Lord Carnarvon,(638)

who has thrown up the bedchamber, and they say, the lieutenancy

of Hampshire on Stanley being made governor of the Isle of Wight.

I have been much distressed this morning. The royal family

reside chiefly at Richmond, whither scarce necessary servants

attend them, and no mortal else but Lord Bute. The King and

Queen have taken to going about to see places; they have been at

Oatlands and Wanstead. A quarter before ten to-day, I heard the

bell at the gate ring,--that is, I was not up, for my hours are

not reformed, either at night or in the morning,--I inquired who

it was? the Prince of Mecklenburgh and De Witz had called to

know if they could see the house; my two Swiss, Favre and Louis,

told them I was in bed, but if they would call again in an hour,

they might see it. I shuddered at this report,--and would it

were the worst part! The Queen herself was behind, in a coach: I

am shocked to death, and know not what to do! It is ten times

worse just now than ever at any other time: it will certainly be

said, that I refused to let the Queen see my house. See what it

is to have republican servants! When I made a tempest about it,

Favre said, with the utmost sang froid, "Why could not he tell me

he was the Prince of Mecklenburgh?" I shall go this evening and

consult my oracle, Lady Suffolk. If she approves it, I will

write to De Witz, and pretend I know nothing of any body but the

Prince, and beg a thousand pardons, and assure him how proud I

should be to have his master visit my castle at Thundertentronk.

August 4th.

I have dined to-day at Claremont, where I little thought I should

dine,(639) but whither our affairs have pretty naturally

conducted me. It turned out a very melancholy day. Before I got

into the house, I heard that letters were just arrived there,

with accounts of the Duke of Devonshire having had two more fits.

When I came to see Lord John's(640) and Lord Frederick's letters,

I found these two fits had been but one, and that very slight,

much less than the former, and certainly nervous by all the

symptoms, as Sir Edward Wilmot, who has been at Chatsworth,

pronounces it. The Duke perceived it coming, and directed what

to have done, and it was over in four minutes. The next event

was much more real. I had been half round the garden with the

Duke in his one-horse chair; we were passing to the other side of

the house, when George Onslow met us, arrived on purpose to

advertise the Duke of the sudden death of the Duchess of

Leeds,(641) who expired yesterday at dinner in a moment: he

called it apoplectic; but as the Bishop of Oxford,(642) who is at

Claremont, concluded, it was the gout flown up into the head.

The Duke received the news as men do at seventy-one: but the

terrible part was to break it to the Duchess, who is ill. George

Onslow would have taken me away to dinner with him, but the Duke

thought that would alarm the Duchess too abruptly, and she is not

to know it yet: with her very low spirits it is likely to make a

deep impression. It is a heavy stroke too for her father, poor

old Lord Godolphin, who is eighty-six. For the Duke, his

spirits, under so many mortifications and calamities, are

surprising: the only effect they and his years seem to have made

on him is to have abated his ridicules.(643) Our first meeting

to be sure was awkward, yet I never saw a man conduct any thing

with more sense than he did. There were no notices of what is

passed; nothing fulsome, no ceremony, civility enough, confidence

enough, and the greatest ease. You would only have thought that

I had been long abroad, and was treated like an old friend's son

with whom he might make free. In truth, I never saw more

rational behaviour: I expected a great deal of flattery, but we

had nothing but business while we were alone, and common

conversation while the Bishop and the Chaplain were present. The

Duke mentioned to me his having heard Lord Holland's inclination

to your embassy. He spoke very obligingly of you, and said that,

next to his own children, he believed there was nobody the late

Lord Hardwicke loved so much as you. I cannot say that the Duke

spoke very affectionately of Sir Joseph Yorke. who has never

written a single line to him since he was out. I told him that

did not surprise me, for Sir Joseph has treated your brother in

the same manner, though the latter has written two letters to him

since his dismission.

Arlington Street, Tuesday night, 10 o'clock.

I am here alone in the most desolate of all towns. I came to-day

to visit my sovereign Duchess(644) in her lying-in, and have been

there till this moment, not a sole else but Lady Jane Scott.(645)

Lady Waldegrave came from Tunbridge yesterday en passant, and

reported a new woful history of a fracas there--don't my Lady

Hertford's ears tingle? but she will not be surprised. A

footman--a very homely footman--to a Mrs. Craster, had been most

extremely impertinent to Lord Clanbrazil, Frederick Vane, and a

son of Lady Anne Pope; they threatened to have him turned away--

he replied, if he was, he knew where he should be protected.

Tunbridge is a quiet private place, where one does not imagine

that every thing one does in one's private family will be known:-

-yet so it happened that the morning after the fellow's

dismission, it was reported that he was hired by another lady,

the Lord knows who. At night, that lady was playing at loo in

the rooms. Lord Clanbrazil told her of the report, and hoped she

would contradict it: she grew as angry as a fine lady could grow,

told him it was no business of his, and--and I am afraid, still

more. Vane whispered her--One should have thought that name

would have some weight--oh! worse and worse! the poor English

language was ransacked for terms that came up to her resentment:-

-the party broke up, and, I suppose, nobody went home to write an

account of what happened to their acquaintance.

O'Brien and Lady Susan are to be transported to the Ohio, and

have a grant of forty thousand acres. The Duchess of Grafton

says sixty thousand were bestowed; but a friend of yours, and a

relation of Lady Susan, nibbled away twenty thousand for a Mr.

Upton.

By a letter from your brother to-day, I find our northern journey

is laid aside; the Duke of Devonshire is coming to town; the

physicians want him to go to Spa. This derangement makes me turn

my eyes eagerly towards Paris; though I shall be ashamed to come

thither after the wise reasons I have given you against it in the

beginning of this letter; nous verrons--the temptation is strong,

but patriots must resist temptations; it is not the etiquette to

yield to them till a change happens.

I enclose a letter, which your brother has sent me to convey to

you, and two pamphlets.(646) The former is said to be written by

Shebbeare, under George Grenville's direction: the latter, which

makes rather more noise, is certainly composed by somebody who

does not hate your brother--I even fancy you will guess the same

person for the author that every body else does. I shall be able

to send you soon another pamphlet, written by Charles Townshend,

on the subject of the warrants:-you see, at least, we do not

ransack Newgate and the pillory(647) for writers. We leave those

to the administration.

I wish you would be so kind as to tell me, what is become of my

sister and Mr. Churchill. I received a letter from Lady Mary

to-day, telling me she was that instant setting out from Paris,

but does not say whither.

The first storm that is likely to burst in politics, seems to be

threatened from the Bedford quarter. The Duke and Duchess have

been in town but for two days the whole summer, and are now going

to Trentham, whither Lord Gower, qui se donnoit pour favori, is

retired for three months. This is very unlike the declaration in

spring, that the Duke must reside at Streatham,(648) because the

King could not spare him for a day.

The memorial(649) left by Guerchy at his departure, and the late

arr`ets in France on our American histories, make much noise, and

seem to say that I have not been a false prophet! If our

ministers can stand so many difficulties from abroad, and so much

odium at home, they are abler men than I take them for. Adieu,

the whole H`otel de Lassay!(650) I verily think I shall see it

soon.

(633) He had the lucrative office of usher of the exchequer, and

a couple of other less considerable sinecures.-C.

(634) Robert, last Earl of Holderness, grandson of the great Duke

Schomberg; he had been secretary of state at the accession.-C.

(635) Lady Hertford was daughter of the late, and cousin of the

existing Duke of Grafton, who was one of the leaders of the

opposition.-C.

(636) The state of the public mind at this time is thus described

by Gray:--"Grumble, indeed, every one does; but, since Wilkes's

affair, they fall off their metal, and seem to shrink under the

brazen hand of Norton and his colleagues. I hear there will be

no Parliament till after Christmas. If the French should be so

unwise as to suffer the Spanish court to go on in their present

measures (for they refuse to pay the ransom of Manilla, and have

driven away our logwood cutters already,) down go their friends

in the ministry, and all the schemes of right divine and

prerogative; and this is perhaps the best chance we have. Are

you not struck with the great similarity there is between the

first years of Charles the First and the present times? Who

would have thought it possible five years ago?" Works, vol. iv.

p. 34.-E.

(637) It is not easy to say what hundred and fifty years he

alludes to; the contests of Whig and Tory were never so violent

as in the last years of Queen Anne, just fifty years before this

time.-C.

(638) The Marquis of Carnarvon, eldest son of the second Duke of

Chandos.-E.

(639) See ant`e, p. 258, letter 184.

(640) Lord John and Lord Frederick Cavendish, his grace's

brothers.-E.

(641) Lady Mary, daughter of the second Lord Godolphin,

granddaughter of the great Duke of Marlborough, and sister of the

Duchess of Newcastle.-E.

(642) Dr. John Hume.-E.

(643) The reader will not fail to observe the sudden effect of

Mr. Walpole's conversion to the Duke of Newcastle's politics, how

it abates all ridicules and sweetens all acerbities. As no

writer has contributed so much as Mr. Walpole to depreciate the

character of the Duke of Newcastle, this kind of palinode is not

unimportant. See ant`e, p. 258, letter 184.-C.

(644) The Duchess of Grafton lay-in, on the 17th July 1764, of

her youngest son, Lord Charles.-E.

(645) Eldest daughter of Francis, second Duke of Buccleugh, born

1723, died in 1777, unmarried.-E.

(646) They were called "An Address to the Public on the late

dismission of a General Officer," and "A Counter Address." The

latter was written by Mr. Walpole himself.-C.

(647) Dr. Shebbeare had been convicted of a libel, and, I

believe, punished in the pillory-C. [By the indulgence of the

under-sheriff of Midllesex, the Doctor was allowed to stand on,

and not in, the pillory; for which indulgence he was prosecuted.)

(648) A villa of the Duke's at Streatham, derived from Mr.

Howland, his maternal grandfather, from whom Howland-street is

named.-C.

(649) The points in dispute between France and England at this

period arose out of the non-performance of certain articles of

the treaty-the payment of the Canada bills, and the expense of

the prisoners of war, and certain claims for compensation for

effects taken at Bellisle.-C.

(650) The house which Lord Hertford hired in Paris.-E.

Letter 219 To George Montagu, Esq.

Arlington Street, Aug. 16, 1764. (page 337)

I am not gone north, so pray write to me. I am not going south,

so pray come to me. The Duke of Devonshire's journey to Spa has

prevented the first, and twenty reasons the second; whenever

therefore you are disposed to make a visit to Strawberry, it will

rejoice to receive you in its old ruffs and fardingales, and

without rouge, blonde, and run silks.

You have not said a word to me, ingrate as you are, about Lord

Herbert; does not he deserve one line? Tell me when I shall see

you, that I may make no appointments to interfere with it. Mr.

Conway, Lady Ailesbury, and Lady Lyttelton, have been at

Strawberry with me for four or five days, so I am come to town to

have my house washed, for you know I am a very Hollander in point

of cleanliness.

This town is a deplorable solitude; one meets nothing but Mrs.

Holman, like the pelican in the wilderness. Adieu!

Letter 220 To The Earl Of Hertford.

Strawberry Hill, Aug. 27, 1764. (page 338)

I hope you received safe a parcel and a very long letter that I

sent you, above a fortnight ago, by Mr. Strange the engraver.

Scarce any thing has happened since worth repeating, but what you

know already, the death of poor Legge, and the seizure of Turk

Island:(651) the latter event very consonant to all ideas. It

makes much noise here especially in the city, where the ministry

grow every day more and more unpopular. Indeed, I think there is

not much probability of their standing their ground, even till

Christmas. Several defections are already known, and others are

ripe which they do not apprehend.

Doctor Hunter, I conclude, has sent you Charles Townshend's

pamphlet: it is well written, but does not sell much, as a notion

prevails that it has been much altered and softened.

The Duke of Devonshire is gone to Spa; he was stopped for a week

by a rash, which those who wished it so, called a miliary fever,

but was so far from it that if he does not find immediate benefit

from Spa, he is to go to Aix-la-Chapelle, in hopes that the warm

baths will supple his skin, and promote another eruption.

I have been this evening to Sion, which is becoming another Mount

Palatine. Adam has displayed great taste, and the Earl matches

it with magnificence. The gallery is converting into a museum in

the style of a columbarium, according to an idea that I proposed

to my Lord Northumberland. Mr. Boulby(652) and Lady Mary are

there, and the Primate,(653) who looks old and broken enough to

aspire to the papacy. Lord Holland, I hear, advises what Lord

Bute much wishes, the removal of George Grenville, to make room

for Lord Northumberland at the head of the treasury. The Duchess

of Grafton is gone to her father. I wish you may hear no more of

this journey! If you should, this time, the Complaints will come

from her side.

You have got the Sposo(654) Coventry with you, have not you? And

you are going to have the Duke of York. You will not want such a

nobody as me. When I have a good opportunity, I will tell you

some very sensible advice that has been given me on that head,

which I am sure you will approve.

It is well for me I am not a Russian. I should certainly be

knouted. The murder of the young Czar Ivan has sluiced again all

my abhorrence of the czarina. What a devil in a diadem! I

wonder they can spare such a principal performer from hell!

September 9th.

I had left this letter unfinished, from want of common materials,

if I should send it by the post; and from want of private

conveyance, if I said more than was fit for the post. being Just

returned from Park-place, where I have been for three days, I not

only find your extremely kind letter of August 21st, but a card

from Madame de Chabot, who tells me she sets out for Paris in a

day or two. and offers to carry a letter to you, which gives me

the opportunity I wished for.

I must begin with what you conclude-your most friendly

offer,(655) if I should be distressed by the treasury. I can

never thank you enough for this, nor the tender manner in which

you clothe it: though, believe me, my dear lord, I could never

blush to be obliged to you. In truth, though I do not doubt

their disposition to hurt me, I have had prudence enough to make

it much longer than their reign Can last, before it could be in

their power to make me feel want. With all my extravagance, I am

much beforehand, and having perfected and paid for what I wished

to do here, my common expenses are trifling, and nobody can live

more frugally than I, when I have a mind to it. What I said of

fearing temptations at Paris, was barely serious: I thought it

imprudent, just now, to throw away my money; but that

consideration, singly, would not keep me here. I am eager to be

with you, and my chief reason for delaying is, that I wish to

make a longer stay than I could just now. The advice I hinted

at, in the former part of this letter, was Lady Suffolk's, and I

am sure you will think it very sensible. She told me, should I

now go to Paris, all the world would say I went to try to

persuade you to resign; that even the report would be impertinent

to you, to whom she knew and saw I wished so well; and that when

I should return, it would be said I had failed in MY errand.

Added to this, which was surely very prudent and friendly advice,

I will own to you fairly, that I think I shall soon have it in my

power to come to you on the foot I wish,--I mean, having done

with politics, which I have told you all along, and with great

truth, are as much my abhorrence as yours. I think this

administration cannot last till Christmas, and I believe they

themselves think so. I am cautious when I say this, because I

promise you faithfully, the last thing I will do shall be to give

you any false lights knowingly. I am clear, I repeat it, against

your resigning now; and there is no meaning in all I have taken

the liberty to say to you, and which you receive with so much

goodness and sense, but to put you on your guard in such ticklish

times, and to pave imperceptibly to the world the way to your

reunion with your friends. In your brother, I am persuaded, you

will never find any alteration; and whenever you find an

opportunity proper, his credit with particular persons will

remove any coldness that may have happened. I admire the force

and reasoning with which you have stated your own situation; and

I think there are but two points in which we differ at all. I do

not see how your brother could avoid the part he chose. It was

the administration that made it--no inclination of his. The

other is a trifle; it regards Elliot, nor is it my opinion alone

that he is at Paris on business: every body believes it, and

considering his abilities, and the present difficulties of Lord

Bute, Elliot's absence would be very extraordinary, if merely

occasioned by idleness or amusement, or even to place his

children, when it lasts so long.

The affair of Turk Island, and the late promotion of Colonel

Fletcher(656) over thirty-seven older officers, are the chief

causes, added to the Canada bills, Logwood, and the Manilla

affairs, Which have ripened our heats to such a height. Lord

Mansfield's violence against the press has contributed much--but

the great distress of all to the ministers, is the behaviour of

the Duke of Bedford, who has twice or thrice peremptorily refused

to attend council. He has been at Trentham, and crossed the

country back to Woburn, without coming to town.(657) Lord Gower

has been in town but one day. Many causes are assigned for all

this; the refusal of making Lord Waldegrave of the bedchamber;

Lord Tavistocl('s inclination to the minority; and above all, a

reversion, which it is believed Lord Bute has been so weak as to

obtain, of Ampthill, a royal grant, in which the Duke has but

sixteen years to come. You know enough of that court, to know

that, in the article of Bedfordshire, no influence has any weight

with his grace. At present, indeed, I believe little is tried.

The Duchess and Lady Bute are as hostile as possible. Rigby's

journey convinces me of what I have long suspected, that his

reign is at an end. I have even heard, though I am far from

trusting to the quarter from which I had my intelligence, that

the Duke has been making overtures to Mr. Pitt,(658) which have

not been received unfavourably; I shall know more of this soon,

as I am to go to Stowe in three or four days. Mr. Pitt is

exceedingly well-disposed to your brother, talks highly of him,

and of the injustice done to him, and they are to meet on the

first convenient opportunity. Thus much for politics, which,

however, I cannot quit, without again telling you how sensible I

am of all your goodness and friendly offers.

The Court, independent of politics, makes a strange figure. The

recluse life led here at Richmond, which is carried to such an

excess of privacy and economy, that the Queen's friseur waits on

them at dinner, and that four pounds only of beef are allowed for

their soup, disgusts all sorts of people. The drawing-rooms are

abandoned: Lady Buckingham(659) was the only woman there on

Sunday se'nnight. The Duke of York was commanded home. They

stopped his remittances,(660) and then were alarmed on finding he

still was somehow or other supplied with money. The two next

Princes(661) are at the Pavilions at Hampton Court, in very

private circumstances indeed; no household is to be established

for Prince William, who accedes nearer to the malcontents every

day. In short, one hears of nothing but dissatisfaction, which

in the city rises almost to treason.

Mrs. Cornwallis(662) has found that her husband has been

dismissed from the bedchamber this twelvemonth with no notice:

his appointments were even paid; but on this discovery they are

stopped.

You ask about what I had mentioned in the beginning of my letter,

the dissensions in the house of Grafton. The world says they are

actually parted: I do not believe that; but I will tell you

exactly all I know. His grace, it seems, for many months has

kept one Nancy Parsons,(663) one of the commonest creatures in

London, one much liked, but out of date. He is certainly grown

immoderately attached to her, so much, that it has put an end to

all his decorum. She was publicly with him at Ascot races, and

is now in the forest;(664) I do not know if actually in the

house. At first, I concluded this was merely stratagem to pique

the Duchess; but it certainly goes further. Before the Duchess

laid in, she had a little house on Richmond-Hill, whither the

Duke sometimes, though seldom, came to dine. During her month of

confinement, he was scarcely in town at all, nor did he even come

up to see the Duke of Devonshire. The Duchess is certainly gone

to her father. She affected to talk of the Duke familiarly, and

said she would call in the forest as she went to Lord

Ravensworth's. I suspect she is gone thither to recriminate and

complain. She did not talk of returning till October. It was

said the Duke was going to France, but I hear no more of it.

Thus the affair stands, as far as I or your brother, or the

Cavendishes, know; nor have we heard one word from either Duke or

Duchess of any rupture. I hope she will not be so weak as to

part, and that her father and mother will prevent it. It is not

unlucky that she has seen none of the Bedfords lately, who would

be glad to blow the coals. Lady Waldegrave was with her one day,

but I believe not alone.

There was nobody at Park-place but Lord and Lady William

Campbell.(665) Old Sir John Barnard(666) is dead; for other

news, I have none. I beg you will always say a great deal for me

to my lady. As I trouble you with such long letters, it would be

unreasonable to overwhelm her too. You know my attachment to

every thing that is yours. My warmest wish is to see an end of

the present unhappy posture of public affairs, which operate so

shockingly even on our private. If I can once get quit of them,

it will be no easy matter to involve me in them again, however

difficult it may be, as you have found, to escape them. Nobody

is more criminal in my eyes than George Grenville, who had it in

his power to prevent what has happened to your brother. Nothing

could be more repugnant to all the principles he has ever most

avowedly and publicly professed--but he has opened my eyes--such

a mixture of vanity and meanness, of falsehood(667) and

hypocrisy, is not common even in this country! It is a

ridiculous embarras after all the rest, and yet you may conceive

the distress I am under about Lady Blandford,(668) and the

negotiations I am forced to employ to avoid meeting him there,

which I am determined not to do.

I shall be able, when I see you, to divert you with some

excellent stories of a principal figure on our side; but they are

too long and too many for a letter, especially of a letter so

prolix as this. Adieu, my dear lord!

(651) A small island, also called Tortuga, near St. Domingo, of

which a French squadron had dispossessed some English settlers.

This proceeding was, however, immediately disavowed by the

French, and orders were immediately despatched for restitution

and compensation to the sufferers. We can easily gather from Mr.

Walpole's own expressions why this affair was raised into such

momentary importance.-C.

(652) Thomas Bouldby, Esq. and his lady, sister of the first Duke

of Montagu, of the second creation.-E.

(653) Dr. George Stone.

(654) see ant`e, p. 332, letter 218.

(655) This affair is creditable to all the parties. When General

Conway was turned out, Mr Walpole placed all his fortune at his

disposal, in a very generous letter (p. 316, letter 205). This

induced Mr. Walpole to think of economy, and to state in a former

letter (p. 332, letter 218) some apprehension as to his

circumstances; in reply to which, Lord Hertford, who had already

made a similar proposition to General Conway, now offers to place

Mr. Walpole above the pecuniary difficulties which he

apprehended.-C.

(656) Colonel Fletcher of the 35th foot.-E.

(657) Not very surprising, however, as London would have been

about eighty miles round.-C.

(658) The following is a passage from a letter written by Mr.

Pitt to the Duke of Newcastle, in October, in reply to one of

these overtures:--"As for my single self, I purpose to continue

acting through life upon the best convictions I am able to form,

and Under the obligation of principles, not by the force of any

particular bargains. I presume not to judge for those who think

they see daylight to serve their country by such means: but shall

continue myself, as often as I think it worth the while to go to

the House of Commons, to go there free from stipulation-, about

every question under consideration, as well as to come out of the

House as free as I entered it. Having seen the close of last

session, and the system of that great war, in which my share of

the ministry was so largely arraigned, given up by silence in a

full House, I have little thoughts of beginning the world again

upon a new centre of union. Your grace will not, I trust, wonder

if, after so recent and so strange a phenomenon in politics, I

have no disposition to quit the free condition of a man standing

single, and daring to appeal to his country at large, upon the

soundness of his principles and the rectitude of his conduct."

See Chatham Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 296.-E.

(659) Mary Anne Drury, wife Of John, second Earl of

Buckinghamshire.-E.

(660) Mr. Walpole gives an unfair turn to this circumstance. The

stopping the Duke of York's remittances, and ordering him home,

was a measure of prudence, not to say of necessity, for that

young Prince's extravagance abroad had made a public clamour; so

much so, that a popular preacher delivered, about this time, a

sermon on the following text:--"The younger son gathered all

together, and took his journey into a far country, and there

wasted his substance with riotous living." St. Luke, xv. 13. The

letters and even the publications of the day allude to this

extravagance, and surely it was the duty of his brother and

sovereign to repress an indiscretion which occasioned such

observations.-C.

(661) William, created, in November, 1764, Duke of Gloucester;

and Henry created, in 1766, Duke of cumberland. The injustice of

mr. Walpole's insinuations will be evident, when it is

remembered that, at the date of this letter, the eldest of these

Princes was but twenty, and the other eighteen years of age, and

that they were both created Dukes, and had households established

for them as soon as they respectively came of age-C.

(662) Mary, daughter of Charles, second Viscount Townshend, wife

of Edward, sixth son of the third Lord Cornwallis. I suspect

that here again Mr. Walpole's accusation is not correct. General

Cornwallis had been groom of the bedchamber to George II., and

was continued in the same office by the successor, till he was

appointed Governor of Gibraltar, when Mr. Henry Seymour was

appointed in his room.-C.

(663) This scandal has been immortalized by Junius.-C.

(664) At Wakefield Lodge, in Whittlebury Forest,

Northamptonshire.-E.

(665) Lord William, brother of General Conway's lady, and third

brother of the fifth Duke of Argyle; his wife was Sarah, daughter

of W. Teard, Esq. of Charleston.-E.

(666) Father of the city, which he had represented in six

parliaments. He had been a very leading member of the House of

Commons, and was much deferred to on all matters of commerce.-C.

(667) See ant`e, p. 272, letter 188.

(668) Maria Catherine de Jonge, a Dutch Lady, widow of William

Godolphin, Marquis of Blandford, and sister of Isabella Countess

of Denbigh; they were near neighbours and intimate acquaintances

of Mr. Walpole's.@.

Letter 221 To The Right Hon. William Pitt.(669)

Arlington Street, Aug. 29, 1764. (page 343)

Sir,

As you have always permitted me to offer you the trifles printed

at my press, I am glad to have one to send you of a little more

consequence than some in which I have had myself too great a

share. The singularity of the work I now trouble you with is

greater merit than its rarity; though there are but two hundred

copies, of which only half are mine.(670) If it amuses an hour

or two of your idle time, I am overpaid. My greatest ambition is

to pay that respect which every Englishman owes to your character

and services; and therefore you must not wonder if an

inconsiderable man seizes every opportunity, however awkwardly,

of assuring you, Sir, that he is Your most devoted, etc.

(669) Now first collected.

(670) The Life of Lord Herbert of Cherbury. See ant`e, p. 329,

letter 214.-E.

Letter 222 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Strawberry Hill, Aug. 29, 1764. (page 343)

Dear sir,

Among the multitude of my papers I have mislaid, though not lost,

the account you was so good as to give me of your ancestor Toer,

as a painter. I have been hunting for it to insert it in the new

edition of my Anecdotes. It is not very reasonable to save

myself trouble at the expense of yours; but perhaps you can much

sooner turn to your notes, than I find your letter. Will you be

so good as to send me soon all the particulars you recollect of

him. I have a print of Sir Lionel Jenkins from his painting.

I did not send you any more orange flowers, as you desired; for

the continued rains rotted all the latter blow: but I had made a

vast potpourri, from whence you shall have as much as you please,

when I have the pleasure of seeing you here, which I should be

glad might be in the beginning of October, if it suits your

convenience. At the same time you shall have a print of Lord

Herbert, which I think I did not send you.

P. S. I trust you will bring me a volume or two of your MSS. of

which I am most thirsty.

Letter 223 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.

September 1, 1764. (page 344)

I send you the reply to the Counter-address;(671) it is the

lowest of all Grub-street, and I hear is treated so. They have

nothing better to say, than that I am in love with you, have been

so these twenty years, and am no giant. I am a very constant old

swain: they might have made the years above thirty; it is so long

I have the same unalterable friendship for you, independent of

being near relations and bred up together. For arguments, so far

from any new ones, the man gives up or denies most of the former.

I own I am rejoiced not only to see how little they can defend

themselves, but to know the extent of their malice and revenge.

They must be sorely hurt, to be reduced to such scurrility. Yet

there is one paragraph, however, which I think is of George

Grenville's own inditing. It says, "I flattered, solicited, and

then basely deserted him." I no more expected to hear myself

accused of flattery, than of being in love with you; but I shall

not laugh at the former as I do at the latter. Nothing but his

own consummate vanity could suppose I had ever stooped to flatter

him! or that any man was connected with him, but who was low

enough to be paid for it. Where has he one such attachment?

You have your share too. The miscarriage at Rochfort now

directly laid at your door! repeated insinuations against your

courage. But I trust you will mind them no more than I do,

excepting the flattery, which I shall not forget, I promise them.

I came to town yesterday on some business, and found a case.

When I opened it, what was there but my Lady Ailesbury's most

beautiful of all pictures!(672) Don't imagine I can think it

intended for me: or that, if it could be so, I would hear of such

a thing. It is far above what can be parted with, or accepted.

I am serious--there is no letting such a picture, when one has

accomplished it, go from where one can see it every day. I

should take the thought equally kind and friendly, but she must

let me bring it back, if I am not to do any thing else with it,

and it came by mistake. I am not so selfish as to deprive her of

what she must have such pleasure in seeing. I shall have more

satisfaction in seeing it at Park-place; where, in spite of the

worst kind of malice, I shall persist in saying my heart is

fixed. They may ruin me, but no calumny shall make me desert

you. Indeed your case would be completely cruel, if it was more

honourable for your relations and friends to abandon you than to

stick to you. My option is made, and I scorn their abuse as much

as I despise their power.

I think of coming to you on Thursday next for a day or two,

unless your house is full, or you hear from me to the contrary.

Adieu! Yours ever.

(671) A pamphlet written by Mr. Walpole, in answer to another,

called ,An Address to the Public on the late Dismissal of a

General Officer."

(672) A landscape executed in worsteds by Lady Ailesbury. It is

now at Strawberry Hill.

Letter 224 To The Rev. Dr. Birch.

September 3, 1764. (page 345)

Sir,

I am extremely obliged to you for the favour of your letter, and

the enclosed curious one of Sir William Herbert. It would have

made a very valuable addition to Lord Herbert's Life, which is

now too late; as I have no hope that Lord Powis will permit any

more to be printed. There were indeed so very few, and but half

of those for my share, that I have not it in my power to offer

you a copy, having disposed of my part. It is really a pity that

so singular a curiosity should not be public; but I must not

complain, as Lord Powis has been so good as to indulge my request

thus far. I am, Sir, Your much obliged humble servant, H. W.

Letter 225 To The Earl Of Hertford.

Strawberry Hill, Oct. 5, 1764. (page 345)

My dear lord,

Though I wrote to you but a few days ago, I must trouble you with

another line now. Dr. Blanchard, a Cambridge divine, and who has

a good paternal estate in Yorkshire, is on his travels, which he

performs as a gentleman; and, therefore, wishes not to have his

profession noticed. He is very desirous of paying his respects

to you, and of being countenanced by you while he stays at Paris.

It will much oblige a particular friend of mine, and consequently

me, if you will favour him with your attention. Every body

experiences your goodness, but in the present case I wish to

attribute it a little to my request.

I asked you about two books, ascribed to Madame de Boufflers. if

they are hers, I should be glad to know where she found, that

Oliver Cromwell took orders and went over to Holland to fight the

Dutch. As she has been on the spot where he reigned (which is

generally very strong evidence), her countrymen will believe her

in spite of our teeth; and Voltaire, who loves all anecdotes that

never happened, because they prove the manners of the times, will

hurry it into the first history he publishes. I, therefore,

enter my caveat against it; not as interested for Oliver's

character, but to save the world from one more fable. I know

Madame de Boufflers will attribute this scruple to my partiality

to Cromwell (and, to be sure, if we must be ridden, there is some

satisfaction when the man knows how to ride). I remember one

night at the Duke of Grafton's, a bust of Cromwell was produced:

Madame de Boufflers, without uttering a syllable, gave me the

most speaking look imaginable, as much as to Say, Is it possible

you can admire this man! Apropos: I am sorry to say the reports

do not cease about the separation,(673) and yet I have heard

nothing that confirms it.

I once begged you to send me a book in three volumes, called

"Essais sur les Moeurs;" forgive me if I put you in mind of it,

and request you to send me that, or any other new book. I am

wofully in want of reading, and sick to death of all our

political stuff; which, as the Parliament is happily at the

distance of three months, I would fain forget till I cannot help

hearing of it. I am reduced to Guicciardin, and though the

evenings are so long, I cannot get through one of his periods

between dinner and supper. They tell me Mr. Hume has had sight

of King James's journal:(674) I Wish I could see all the trifling

passages that he will not deign to admit into history. I do not

love great folks till they have pulled off their buskins and put

on their slippers, because I do not care sixpence for what they

would be thought, but for what they are.

Mr. Elliot brings us woful accounts of the French ladies, of the

decency of their conversation, and the nastiness of their

behaviour.

Nobody is dead, married, or gone mad, since my last. Adieu!

P. S. I enclose an epitaph on Lord Waldegrave, written by my

brother,(675) which I think you will like, both for the

composition and the strict truth of it.

Arlington Street, Friday evening.

I was getting into my postchaise this morning with this letter in

my pocket, and Coming to town for a day or two, when I heard the

Duke of Cumberland was dead: I find it is not so. he had two

fits yesterday at Newmarket, whither he would go. The Princess

Amelia, who had observed great alteration in his speech,

entreated him against it. He has had too some touches of the

gout, but they were gone off, or might have prevented this

attack. I hear since the fits yesterday, which are said to have

been but slight, that his leg is broken out, and they hope will

save him. Still, I think, one cannot but expect the worst.

The letters yesterday, from Spa, give a melancholy account of the

poor Duke of Devonshire as he cannot drink the waters they think

of removing him; I suppose, to the baths at Aix-la-Chapelle; but

I look on his case as a lost one. There's a chapter for

moralizing! but five-and-forty, with forty thousand pounds

a-year and happiness wherever he turned him! My reflection is,

that it is folly to be unhappy at any thing, when felicity itself

is such a phantom.

(673) Of the Duke and Duchess of Grafton.-E.

(674) Since published, under the generous patronage of George the

Third, by Dr. Clarke, his Majesty's librarian. The work is,

however, not what Mr. Walpole contemplated: it is not a journal

of private feelings, interests, and actions, but a relation

rather of public affairs; and though the notes of James II. were

undoubtedly the foundation of the work, it was, in truth, written

by another hand, and that too a hand the least likely to have

given us the kind of memoirs which Mr. Walpole justly thinks

would have been so valuable. When an eminent person writes his

own memoirs, we have, at least, the motives which he thinks it

creditable to assign to his conduct--he has, generally the

candour of vanity, and even when he has not that candour, he is

sometimes blinded into discovering truth unawares; but nothing

can be more futile and fastidious than the meagre notes of the

original actor, fresh woven and discoloured by the hands of an

obsequious servant, who conceals all the facts he cannot explain,

and all the motives he cannot justify. Such memoirs resemble the

real life as the skeleton does the living man.-C.

(675) Sir Edward Walpole, K.B., second son of Sir Robert, and the

father of Ladies Dysart and Waldegrave, and Mrs. Keppel.-E.

Letter 226 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.

Strawberry Hill, Oct. 5, 1764. (page 347)

It is over with us!--if I did not know your firmness, I would

have prepared you by degrees; but you are a man, and can hear the

worst at once. The Duke of Cumberland is dead. I have heard it

but this instant. The Duke of Newcastle was come to breakfast

with me, and pulled out a letter from Lord Frederick, with a

hopeless account of the poor Duke of Devonshire. Ere I could

read it, Colonel Schutz called at the door and told my servant

this fatal news! I know no more--it must be at Newmarket, and

very sudden; for the Duke of Newcastle had a letter from Hodgson,

dated on Monday, which said the Duke was perfectly well, and his

gout gone:--Yes, to be sure, into his head. Princess Amelia had

endeavoured to prevent his going to Newmarket, having perceived

great alteration in his speech, as the Duke of Newcastle had.

Well! it will not be. Every thing fights against this country!

Mr. Pitt must save it himself--or, what I do not know whether he

will not like as well, share in overturning its liberty--if they

will admit him; -which I question now if they will be fools

enough to do.

You see I write in despair. I am for the whole, but perfectly

tranquil. We have acted with honour, and have nothing to

reproach ourselves with. We cannot combat fate. We shall be

left almost alone; but I think you will no more go with the

torrent than I will. Could I have foreseen this tide of ill

fortune, I would have done just as I have done; and my conduct

shall show I am satisfied I have done right. For the rest, come

what come may, I am perfectly prepared and while there is a free

spot of earth upon the globe, that shall be my country. I am

sorry it will not be this, but to-morrow I shall be able to laugh

as usual. What signifies what happens when one is

seven-and-forty, as I am to-day!

"They tell me 'tis my birthday"--but I will not go on with

Antony, and say

----"and I'll keep it

With double pomp of sadness."

No. when they can smile, who ruin a great country'. sure those

who would have saved it may indulge themselves in that

cheerfulness which conscious integrity bestows. I think I shall

come to you next week; and since we have no longer any plan of

operations to settle, we will look over the map of Europe, and

fix upon a pleasant corner for our exile--for take notice, I do

not design to fall upon my dagger, in hopes that some Mr. Addison

a thousand years hence may write a dull tragedy about me. I will

write my own story a little more cheerfully than he would; but I

fear now I must not print it at my own press. Adieu! You was a

philosopher before you had any occasion to be so: pray continue

so; you have ample occasion! Yours ever, H. W.

Letter 227 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.

Strawberry Hill, Oct. 13, 1764. (page 348)

Lord John Cavendish has been so kind as to send me word of the

Duke of Devonshire's(676) legacy to you.(677) You cannot doubt

of the great joy this gives me; and yet it serves to aggravate

the loss of so worthy a man! And when I feel it thus, I am

sensible how much more it will add to your concern, instead of

diminishing it. Yet do not wholly reflect on your misfortune.

You might despise the acquisition of five thousand pounds simply;

but when that sum is a public testimonial to your virtue, and

bequeathed by a man so virtuous, it is a million. Measure it

with the riches of those who have basely injured you, and it is

still more! Why, it is glory, it is conscious innocence, it is

satisfaction--it is affluence without guilt--Oh! the comfortable

sound! It is a good name in the history of these corrupt days.

There it will exist, when the wealth of your and their country's

enemies will be wasted, or will be an indelible blemish on their

descendants.

My heart is full, and yet I will say no more. My best loves to

all your opulent family. Who says virtue is not rewarded in this

world? It is rewarded by virtue, and it is persecuted by the

bad. Can greater honour be paid to it?

(676) William, fourth Duke of Devonshire. During his

administration in Ireland, Mr. Conway had been secretary of state

there. He died at Spa on the 2d of October.-E.

(677) The legacy was contained in the following codicil, written

in the Duke's own hand. "I give to General Conway five thousand

pounds as a testimony of my friendship to him, and of my sense of

his Honourable conduct and friendship for me."-E.

Letter 228 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.

Strawberry Hill, Oct. 29, 1764. (page 348)

I am glad you mentioned it: I would not have had you appear

without your close mourning for the Duke of Devonshire upon any

account. I was once going to tell you of it, knowing your

inaccuracy in such matters; but thought it still impossible you

should be ignorant how necessary it is. Lord Strafford, who has

a legacy of only two hundred pounds, wrote to consult Lady

Suffolk. She told him, for such a sum, which only implies a

ring,, it was sometimes not done but yet advised him to mourn.

In your case it is indispensable; nor can you see any of his

family without it. Besides it is much better on such an occasion

to over, than under do. I answer this paragraph first, because I

am so earnest not to have you blamed.

Besides wishing to see you all, I have wanted exceedingly to come

to you, having much to say to you; but I am confined here, that

is, Mr. Chute is: he was seized with the gout last Wednesday

se'nnight, the day he came hither to meet George Montagu, and

this is the first day he has been out of his bedchamber. I must

therefore put off our meeting till Saturday, when you shall

certainly find me in town.

We have a report here, but the authority bitter bad, that Lord

March is going to be married to Lady Conway. I don't believe it

the less for our knowing nothing of it; for unless their daughter

were breeding, and it were to save her character, neither your

brother nor Lady Hertford would disclose a tittle about it. Yet

in charity they should advertise it, that parents and relations,

if it is so, may lock up all knives, ropes, laudanum, and rivers,

lest it should occasion a violent mortality among his fair

admirers.

I am charmed with an answer I have just read in the papers of a

man in Bedlam, who was ill-used by -,in apprentice because he

Would not tell him why he was confined there. The unhappy

creature said at last, "Because God has deprived me of a blessing

which you never enjoyed." There never was any thing finer or more

moving! Your sensibility will not be quite so much affected by a

story I heard t'other day of Sir Fletcher Norton. He has a

mother--yes, a mother: perhaps you thought that, like that tender

urchin Love,

----duris in cotibus illum

Ismarus, aut Rhodope, aut extremi Garamantes,

Nec nostri generis puerum nec sanguinis edunt.

Well, Mrs. Rhodope lives in a mighty shabby hovel at Preston,

which the dutiful and affectionate Sir Fletcher began to think

not suitable to the dignity of one who has the honour of being

his parent. He cheapened a better, in which were two pictures

which the proprietor valued at threescore pounds. The

attorney(678) insisted on having them for nothing, as fixtures-

-the landlord refused, the bargain was broken off, and the

dowager Madam Norton remains in her original hut. I could tell

you another story which you would not dislike; but as it might

hurt the person concerned, if it was known, I shall not send it

by the post; but will tell you when I see you. Adieu!

(678) Sir Fletcher Norton, afterwards Lord Grantley, had been

appointed attorney-general in the preceding December.-E.

Letter 229 To The Earl Of Hertford.

Strawberry Hill, Nov. 1, 1764. (page 350)

I am not only pleased, my dear lord, to have been the first to

announce your brother's legacy to you, but I am glad whenever my

news reach you without being quite stale. I see but few persons

here. I begin my letters without knowing when I shall be able to

fill them, and then am to winnow a little what I hear, that I may

not send you absolute secondhand fables: for though I cannot

warrant all I tell you, I hate to send you every improbable tale

that is vented. You like, as one always does in absence, to hear

the common occurrences of your own country; and you see I am very

glad to be your gazetteer, provided you do not rank my letters

upon any higher foot. I should be ashamed of such gossiping, if

I did not consider it as chatting with you en famille, as we used

to do at supper in Grosvenor-street.

The Duke of Devonshire has made splendid provision for his

younger children; to Lady Dorothy,(679) 30,000 pounds; Lord

Richard and Lord George will have about 4,000 pounds a-year

apiece: for, besides landed estates, he has left them his whole

personal estate without exception, only obliging the present Duke

to redeem Devonshire-house, and the entire collection in it, for

20,000 pounds: he gives 500 pounds to each of his brothers, and

200 pounds to Lord Strafford, with some other inconsiderable

legacies. Lord Frederick carried the garter, and was treated by

the King with very gracious speeches of concern.

The Duke of Cumberland is quite recovered, after an incision of

many inches in his knee. Ranby(680) did not dare to propose that

a hero should be tied, but was frightened out of his senses when

the hero would hold the candle himself, which none of his

generals could bear to do: in the middle of the operation, the

Duke said, "Hold!" Ranby said, "For God's sake, Sir, let me

proceed now--it will be worse to renew it." The Duke repeated, "I

say hold!" and then calmly bade them give Ranby a clean waistcoat

and cap; for, said he, the poor man has sweated through these.

It was true; but the Duke did not utter a groan.

Have you heard that Lady Susan O'Brien's is not the last romance

of the sort? Lord Rockingham's youngest sister, Lady

Harriot,(681) has stooped even lower than a theatric swain, and

married her footman; but still it is you Irish(682) that commit

all the havoc. Lady Harriot, however, has mixed a wonderful

degree of prudence with her potion, and considering how plain she

is, has not, I think, sweetened the draught too much for her

lover: she settles a single hundred pound a-year upon him for his

life; entails her whole fortune on their children, if they have

any; and, if not, on her own family; nay, in the height of the

novel, provides for a separation, and insures the same pin-money

to Damon, in case they part. This deed she has vested out of her

power, by sending it to Lord Mansfield,(683) whom she makes her

trustee; it is drawn up in her own hand, and Lord Mansfield says

is as binding as any lawyer could make it. Did one ever hear of

more reflection in a delirium! Well, but hear more: she has

given away all her clothes, nay, and her ladyship, and says,

linen gowns are properest for a footman's wife, and is gone to

his family in Ireland, plain Mrs. Henrietta Surgeon. I think it

is not clear that she is mad, but I have no doubt but Lady

Bel(684) will be so who could not digest Dr. Duncan, nor even Mr.

Milbank.

My last told you of my sister's promotion.(685) I hear she is to

be succeeded at Kensington by Miss Floyd, who lives with Lady

Bolingbroke; but I beg you not to report this till you see it in

a Gazette of better authority than mine, who have it only from

fame and Mrs. A. Pitt.

I have not seen M. de Guerchy yet, having been in town but one

night since his return. You are very kind in accepting, on your

own account, his obliging expressions about me: I know no

foundation on which I should like better to receive them,: the

truth is he has distinguished me extremely, and when a person in

his situation shows much attention to a person so very

insignificant as I am, one is apt to believe it exceeds common

compliment: at least, I attribute it to the esteem which he could

not but see I conceived for him. His civility is so natural, and

his good nature so strongly marked, that I connected much more

with him than I am apt to do with new acquaintances. I pitied

the various disgusts he received, and I believe he saw I did. If

I felt for him, you may judge how much I am concerned that you

have your share. I foresaw it was unavoidable, from the swarms

of your countrymen that flock to Paris, and generally the worst

part; boys and governors are woful exports. I saw a great deal

of it when I lived with poor Sir Horace Mann at Florence-but you

have the whole market. We are a wonderful people-I would not be

our King,(686) our minister, or our ambassador, for the Indies.

One comfort, however, I can truly give you; I have heard their

complaints, if they have any, from nobody but yourself. Jesus!

if they are not content now, I wish they knew how the English

were received at Paris twenty years ago--why, you and I know they

were not received at all. Ay, and when the fashion of admiring

English is past, it will be just so again; and very reasonably-

-who would open their house to every staring booby from another

country?

Arlington Street, Nov. 3.

I came to town to-day to meet your brother, who is going to

Euston and Thetford,(687) and hope he will bring back a good

account of the domestic history,(688) of which we can learn

nothing authentic. Fitzroy(689) knows nothing. The town says

the Duchess is going thither.

We have been this evening with Duchess Hamilton,(690) who is

arrived from Scotland, visibly promising another Lord Campbell.

I shall take this opportunity of seeing M. de Guerchy, and that

opportunity, of sending this letter, and one from your brother.

Our politics are all at a stand. The Duke of Devonshire's death,

I concluded, would make the ministry all powerful, all

triumphant, and all insolent. It does not appear to have done

so. They are, I believe, extremely ill among themselves, and not

better in their affairs foreign or domestic. The cider counties

have instructed their members to join the minority. The house of

Yorke seems to have laid aside their coldness and irresolution,

and to look towards opposition. The unpopularity of the court is

very great indeed--still I shall not be surprised if they

maintain their ground a little longer.

There is nothing new in the way of publication: the town itself'

is still a desert. I have twice passed by Arthur's(691) to-day,

and not seen a chariot.

Hogarth is dead, and Mrs. Spence, who lived with the Duchess of

Newcastle.(692) She had saved 20,000 pounds which she leaves to

her sister for life, and after her, to Tommy Pelham. Ned

Finch(693) has got an estate from an old Mrs. Hatton of 1500

pounds a year, and takes her name.

Adieu! my lord and lady, and your whole et cetera.

(679) Lady Dorothy married, in 1766, the Duke of Portland.-E.

(680) A celebrated surgeon of the day. He was serjeant-surgeon

to the King, and F. R. S.-E.

(681) Lady Henrietta Alicia Wentworth, born in 1737; married Mr.

William Surgeon.-E.

(682) Lord Hertford was an Irish peer; he had besides so large a

fortune there, and paid so much attention to the interests of

that country,, that Mr. Walpole calls him Irish.-C.

(683) Lord Mansfield had married Lady Harriot's aunt.-E.

(684) Lady Isibella Finch, lady of the bedchamber to Princess

Amelia, was Lady Harriot's aunt. The Mr. Milbank here mentioned

had married Lady Mary Wentworth, the elder sister of Lady

Harriot.-C.

(685) From being housekeeper at Kensington Palace, to the same

office at Windsor Castle; but Mr. Walpole is mistaken as to the

name of her successor: it was Miss Roche loyd.-C.

(686) It is due to the character of the King and the ministers,

whom Mr. Walpole so often and so wantonly depreciates, to solicit

the reader's attention to such passages as this, in which he

imputes to others, and therefore implies in himself, an unfair

disposition to criticise and censure.-C.

(687) He was member for Thetford.-E.

(688) Of the Grafton family.-E.

(689) Colonel Charles Fitzroy. See ant`e, p. 261, Letter 185.-E.

(690) Elizabeth Gunning, widow of James, sixth Duke of Hamilton,

and wife, in 1759, of John, fifth Duke of Argyle.-E.

(691) The fashionable club in St. James's Street.-E.

(692) The Duke of Newcastle, in a letter to Mr. Pitt of the 19th

of October, says, "The many great losses, both public and

private, which we have had this summer, have very greatly

affected the Duchess; and the last of all, of her old friend and

companion of above forty-five years, poor Mrs. Spence, has added

much to the melancholy situation in which she was before."

Chatham Correspondence, vol, ii. p. 295.-E.