LE ROI DE PRUSSE, A MONSIEUR ROUSSEAU.(923)

Mon ch`ere Jean Jacques,

Vous avez renonc`e `a G`en`eve votre patrie; vous vous `etes fait

chasser de la Suisse, pays tant vant`e dans vos `ecrits; la

France vous a d`ecret`e. Venez done chez moi; j'admire vos

talens; je m'amuse de vos r`everies, qui (soit dit en passant)

vous occupent trop, et trop long tems. Il faut `a la fin `etre

sage et heureux. Vous avez fait assez parler de vous par des

singularit`es peu convenables `a un v`eritable grand homme.

D`emontrez `a vos ennemis que vous pouvez avoir quelquefois le

sens commun: cela les fachera, sans vous faire- tort. Mes `etats

vous offrent Une retraite paisible; je vous veux du bien, et je

vous en ferai, si vous le trouvez bon. Mais si vous vous

obstiniez `a rejetter mon secours, attendez-vous que je ne le

dirai `a personne. Si vous persistez @ vous creuser l'esprit

pour trouver de nouveaux malheurs, choisissez les tels que vous

voudrez. Je suis roi, je puis vous en procurer au gr`e de vos

souhaits: et ce qui s`urement ne vous arrivera pas vis `a vis de

vos ennemis, je cesserai de vous pers`ecuter quand vous cesserez

de mettre votre gloire `a l'`etre. Votre bon ami, Frederic.

The Princesse de Ligne,(924) whose mother was an Englishwoman

made a good observation to me last night. She said, "Je suis

roi, je puis vous procurer de malheurs," was plainly the stroke

of an English pen. I said, then I had certainly not well

imitated the character in which I wrote. You will say I am an

old man to attack both Voltaire and Rousseau. It is true; but I

shoot at their heel, at their vulnerable part.

I beg your pardon for taking up your time with these trifles.

The day after to-morrow we go in cavalcade with the Duchess of

Richmond to her audience;(925) I have got my cravat and shammy

shoes. Adieu!

(923) How much Rousseau, who was naturally disposed to believe in

plots and conspiracies against him, was annoyed by this jeu

d'esprit, the reader will readily learn from the following

letter, which he addressed to the editor of the London Chronicle

shortly after his arrival in England:--

Wootton, 3d March 1766.

You have failed, Sir, in the respect which every private person

owes to a crowned head, in attributing publicly to the King of

Prussia a letter full of extravagance and malignity, of which,

for these very reasons, you ought to have known be could not be

the author. You have even dared to transcribe his signature, as

if you had seen it written with his own hand. I inform you, Sir,

this letter was fabricated at Paris; and what rends my heart is,

that the impostor has accomplices in England. You owe to the

King of Prussia, to truth, and to me, to print the letter which I

write to you, and which I sign, as an atonement for a fault with

which you would doubtless reproach yourself severely, if you knew

to what a dark transaction you have rendered yourself accessory.

I salute you Sir, very sincerely. Rousseau.

(924) The Princess de Ligne was a daughter of the Marquis de

Megi`eres, by Miss Oglethorpe, sister of general Oglethorpe.-E.

(925) At Versailles, as ambassadress.

Letter 291 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Paris, Jan. 18, 1766. (page 460)

Dear sir,

I had extreme satisfaction in receiving your letter, having been

in great pain about you, and not knowing where to direct a

letter. Favre(926) told me, you had had an accident, did not say

what it was, but that you was not come to town.(927) He received

all the letters and parcels safe; for which I give you many

thanks, and a thousand more for your kindness in thinking of

them, when you was suffering so much. It was a dreadful

conclusion of your travels; but I trust will leave no

consequences behind it. The weather is by no means favourable

for a recovery, if it is as severe in England as at Paris. We

have had two or three days of fog, rather than thaw; but the

frost is set in again as sharp as ever. I persisted in going

about to churches and convents, till I thought I should have lost

my nose and fingers. I have submitted at last to the season, and

lie a-bed all the morning; but I hope in February and March to

recover the time I have lost. I shall not return to England

before the end of March, being determined not to hazard any

thing. I continue perfectly well, and few things could tempt me

to risk five months more of gout.

I will certainly bring you some pastils, and have them better

packed, if it is possible. You know how happy I should be if you

would send me any other commission. As you say nothing of the

Eton living, I fear that prospect has failed you; which gives me

great regret, as it would give me very sensible pleasure to have

you fixed somewhere (and not far from me) for your ease and

satisfaction.

I am glad the cathedral of Amiens answered your expectation; so

has the Sainte Chapelle mine; you did not tell me what charming

enamels I should find in the ante-chapel. I have seen another

vast piece, and very fine, of the Constable Montmorenci, at the

Mar`echale Duchesse de Luxembourg's. Rousseau is gone to England

with Mr. Hume. You will very probably see a letter to Rousseau,

in the name of the King of Prussia, writ to laugh at his

affectations. It has made excessive noise here, and I believe

quite ruined the author with many philosophers. When I tell you

I was the author, it is telling you how cheap I hold their anger.

If it does not reach you, you shall see it at Strawberry, where I

flatter myself I shall see you this summer, and quite well.

Adieu!

(926) A servant of Mr. Walpole's left in London.

(927) In disembarking at Dover, Mr. Cole met with an accident,

that had confined him there three weeks to his bed.

Letter 292 To Mr. Gray.

Paris, Jan. 25, 1766. (461)

I am much indebted to you for your kind letter and advice; and

though it is late to thank you for it, it is at least a stronger

proof that I do not forget it. However, I am a little obstinate,

as you know, on the chapter of health, and have persisted through

this Siberian winter in not adding a grain to my clothes, and in

going open-breasted without an under waistcoat. In short, though

I like extremely to live, it must be in my own way, as long as I

can: it is not youth I court, but liberty; and I think making

oneself tender is issuing a general warrant against one's own

person. I suppose I shall submit to confinement when I cannot

help it; but I am indifferent enough to life not to care if it

ends soon after my prison begins. I have not delayed so long to

answer your letter, from not thinking of you, or from want of

matter, but from want of time. I am constantly occupied,

engaged, amused, till I cannot bring a hundredth part of what I

have to say into the compass of a letter. You will lose nothing

by this: you know my volubility, when I am full of new subjects;

and I have at least many hours of conversation for you at my

return. One does not learn a whole nation in four or five

months; but, for the time, few, I believe, have seen, studied, or

got so much acquainted with the French as I have.

By what I said of their religious or rather irreligious opinions,

you must not conclude their people of quality atheists--at least,

not the men. Happily for them, poor souls! they are not capable

of going so far into thinking. They assent to a great deal,

because it is the fashion, and because they don't know how to

contradict. they are ashamed to defend the Roman Catholic

religion, because it is quite exploded; but I am convinced they

believe it in their hearts. They hate the Parliaments and the

philosophers, and are rejoiced that they may still idolize

royalty. At present, too, they are a little triumphant: the

court has shown a little spirit, and the Parliament much less:

but as the Duc de Choiseul, who is very fluttering, unsettled,

and inclined to the philosophers, has made a compromise with the

Parliament of Bretagne, the Parliaments might venture out again,

if, as I fancy will be the case, they are not glad to drop a

cause, of which they began to be a little weary of the

inconvenience.

The generality of the men, and more than the generality, are dull

and empty. They have taken up gravity, thinking it was

philosophy and English, and so have acquired nothing in the room

of their natural levity and cheerfulness. However, as their high

opinion of their own country remains, for which they can no

longer assign any reason, they are contemptuous and reserved,

instead of being ridiculously, consequently pardonably,

impertinent. I have wondered, knowing my own countrymen, that we

had attained such a superiority. I wonder no longer, and have a

little more respect for English heads than I had.

The women do not seem of the same country: if they are less gay

than they were, they are more informed, enough to make them very

conversable. I know six or seven with very superior

understandings. some of them with wit, or with softness, or very

good sense.

Madame Geoffrin, of whom you have heard much, is an extraordinary

woman, with more common sense than I almost ever met with. Great

quickness in discovering characters, penetration in going to the

bottom of them, and a pencil that never fails in a likeness--

seldom a favourable One. She exacts and preserves, spite of her

birth and their nonsensical prejudices about nobility, great

court and attention. This she acquires by a thousand little arts

and offices of friendship: and by a freedom and severity, which

seem to be her sole end of drawing a concourse to her; for she

insists on scolding those she inveigles to her. She has little

taste and less knowledge, but protects artisans and authors, and

courts a few people to have the credit of serving her dependents.

She was bred under the famous Madame Tencin, who advised her

never to refuse any man; for, said her mistress, though nine in

ten should not care a farthing for you, the tenth may live to be

a useful friend. She did not adopt or reject the whole plan, but

fully retained the purport of the maxim. In short, she is an

epitome' of empire, subsisting by rewards and punishments. Her

great enemy, Madame du Deffand, was for a short time mistress of

the Regent, is now very old and stoneblind, but retains all her

vivacity, wit, memory, judgment, passions, and agreeableness.

She goes to operas, plays, suppers, and Versailles; gives suppers

twice a-week; has every thing new read to her; makes new songs

and epigrams, admirably, and remembers every one that has been

made these fourscore years. She corresponds with Voltaire,

dictates charming letters to him, contradicts him, is no bigot to

him or any body, and laughs both at the clergy and the

philosophers. In a Dispute, into which she easily falls, she is

very warm, and yet scarce ever in the wrong: her judgment on

every subject, is as just as possible; on every point of conduct

as wrong as possible: for she is all love and hatred, passionate

for her friends to enthusiasm, still anxious to be loved, I don't

mean by lovers, and a vehement enemy, but openly. As she can

have no amusement but conversation, the least solitude and ennui

are insupportable to her, and put her into the power of several

worthless people, who eat her suppers when they can eat nobody's

of higher rank; wink to one another and laugh at her; hate her

because she has forty times more parts--and venture to hate her

because she is not rich.(928) She has an old friend whom I must

mention, a Monsieur Pondeveyle,(929) author of the Fat puni, and

the Complaisant, and of those pretty novels, the Comte de

Cominge, the Siege of Calais, and Les Malheurs de l'Amour.(930)

Would not you expect this old man to be very agreeable? He can

be so, but seldom is yet he has another very different and very

amusing talent, the art of parody, and is unique in his kind. He

composes tales to the tunes of long dances -. for instance, he

has adapted the Regent's Daphnis and Chloe to one, and made it

ten times more indecent; but is so old, and sings it so well,

that it is permitted in all companies. He has succeeded still

better in les caract`eres de la danse, to which he has adapted

words that express all the characters of love. With all this he

has not the least idea of cheerfulness in conversation; seldom

speaks but on grave subjects, and not often on them; is a

humourist, very supercilious, and wrapt up in admiration of his

own country, as the only judge of his merit. His air and look

are cold and forbidding; but ask him to sing, or praise his

works, his eyes and smiles open, and brighten up. In short, I

can show him to you: the self-applauding poet in Hogarth's Rake's

Progress, the second print, is so like his very features and very

wig, that you would know him by it, if you came hither--for he

certainly will not go to you.

Madame de Mirepoix's understanding is excellent of the useful

kind, and can be so when she pleases of the agreeable kind. She

has read, but seldom shows it, and has perfect taste. Her manner

is cold, but very civil; and she conceals even the blood of

Lorrain, without ever forgetting it. Nobody in France knows the

world better, and nobody is personally so well with the King.

She is false, artful, and insinuating beyond measure when it is

her interest,(931) but indolent and a coward. She never had any

passion but gaming, and always loses. For ever paying court, the

sole produce of a life of art is to get money from the King to

carry on a course of paying debts or contracting new ones, which

she discharges as fast as she is able. She advertised devotion,

to get made dame du palais to the Queen; and the very next day

this Princess of Lorrain was seen riding backwards with Madame

Pompadour in the latter's coach. When the King was stabbed, and

heartily frightened, the mistress took a panic too, and consulted

D'Argenson,(932) whether she had not best make off in time. He

hated her, and said, By all means. Madame de Mirepoix advised

her to stay. The King recovered his spirits, D'Argenson was

banished, and La Mar`echale inherited part of the mistress's

credit. I must interrupt my history of illustrious women with an

anecdote of Monsieur de Maurepas, with whom I am much acquainted,

and who has one of the few heads which approach to good ones, and

who luckily for us was disgraced, and the marine dropped, because

it was his favourite object and province. He employed Pondeveyle

to make a song on the Pompadour:(933) it was clever and bitter,

and did not spare Majesty. This was Maurepas absurd enough to

sing at supper at Versailles.(934) Banishment ensued; and lest

he should ever be restored, the mistress persuaded the King that

he had poisoned her predecessor Madame de Chateauroux. Maurepas

is very agreeable, and exceedingly cheerful; yet I have seen a

transient silent cloud when politics are talked of.

Madame de Boufflers, who was in England(935) is a savants

mistress of the Prince of Conti, and very desirous of being his

wife. She is two women, the upper and the lower. I need not

tell you that the lower is gallant, and still has pretensions.

The upper is very sensible, too, and has a measured eloquence

that is just and pleasing--but all is spoiled by an unrelaxed

attention to applause. You would think she was always sitting

for her picture to her biographer. Madame de Rochfort(936) is

different from all the rest. Her understanding is just and

delicate; with a finesse of wit that is the result of reflection.

Her manner is soft and feminine, and though a savants, without

any declared pretensions. She is the decent friend of Monsieur

de Nivernois; for you must not believe a syllable of what you

read in their novels. It requires the greatest curiosity, or the

greatest habitude, to discover the smallest connexion between the

sexes here. No familiarity, but under the veil of friendship, is

permitted, and love's dictionary is as much prohibited, as at

first sight one should think his ritual was. All you hear, and

that pronounced with nonchalance, is, that Monsieur un tel has

had Madame un telle. The Duc de Nivernois has parts, and writes

at the top of the mediocre, but, as Madame Geoffrin says, is

manqu`e par tout; guerrier manqu`e, ambassadeur manqu`e, homme

d'affaires manqu`e and auteur manqu`e--no, he is not homme de

naissance manqu`e. He would think freely, but has some ambition

of being governor to the Dauphin, and is more afraid of his wife

and daughter, who are ecclesiastic fagots. The former

outchatters the Duke of Newcastle; and the latter Madame de

Gisors, exhausts Mr. Pitt's eloquence in defense of the

Archbishop of Paris. Monsieur de Nivernois lives in a small

circle of dependent admirers, and Madame de Rochfort is

high-priestess for a small salary of credit.

The Duchess of Choiseul,(937) the only young one of these

heroines, is not very pretty, but has fine eyes, and is a little

model in wax-work, which not being allowed to speak for some time

as incapable, has a hesitation and modesty, the latter of which

the court has not cured, and the former of which is atoned for by

the most interesting sound of voice, and forgotten in the most

elegant turn and propriety of expression. Oh! it is the

gentlest, amiable, civil little creature that ever came out of a

fairy egg! So just in its phrases and thoughts, so attentive and

good-natured! Every body loves it but its husband, who prefers

his own sister the Duchess de Grammont,(938) an Amazonian,

fierce, haughty dame, who loves and hates arbitrarily, and is

detested. Madame de Choiseul, passionately fond of her husband,

was the martyr of this union, but at last submitted with a good

grace; has gained a little credit with him, and is still believed

to idolize him. But I doubt it--she takes too much pains to

profess it.

I cannot finish my list without adding a much more common

character--but more complete in its kind than any of the

foregoing, the Mar`echale de Luxembourg.(939) She has been very

handsome, very abandoned, and very mischievous. Her beauty is

gone, her lovers are gone, and she thinks the devil is coming.

This dejection has softened her into being rather agreeable, for

she has wit and good-breeding; but you would swear, by the

restlessness of her person and the horrors she cannot conceal,

that she had signed the compact, and expected to be called upon

in a week for the performance.

I could add many pictures, but none so remarkable. In those I

send you, there is not a feature bestowed gratis or exaggerated.

For the beauties, of which there are a few considerable, as

Mesdames de Brionne, de Monaco, et d'Egmont, they have not yet

lost their characters, nor got any.

You must not attribute my intimacy with Paris to curiosity alone.

An accident unlocked the doors for me. That passe-partout,

called the fashion, has made them fly open-and what do you think

was that fashion? I myself. Yes, like Queen Elinor in the

ballad, I sunk at Charing-cross, and have risen in the Fauxbourg

St. Germain. A plaisanterie on Rousseau, whose arrival here in

his way to you brought me acquainted with many anecdotes

conformable to the idea I had conceived of him, got about, was

liked much more than it deserved, spread like wildfire, and made

me the subject of conversation. Rousseau's devotees were

offended. Madame de Boufflers, with a tone of sentiment, and the

accents of lamenting humanity, abused me heartily, and then

complained to myself with the utmost softness. I acted

contrition, but had like to have spoiled all, by growing

dreadfully tired of a second lecture from the Prince of Conti,

who took up the ball, and made himself the hero of a history

wherein he had nothing to do. I listened, did not understand

half he said (nor he neither), forgot the rest, said Yes when I

should have said No, yawned when I should have smiled, and was

very penitent when I should have rejoiced at my pardon. Madame

de Boufflers was more distressed, for he owned twenty times more

than I had said: she frowned and made him signs: but she had

wound up his clack, and there was no stopping it. -The moment she

grew angry, the lord of the house grew charmed, and it has been

my fault if I am not at the head of a numerous sect:--but, when I

left a triumphant party in England, I did not come hither to be

at the head of a fashion. However, I have been sent for about

like an African prince or a learned canary-bird, and was, in

particular, carried by force to the Princess of Talmond,(940) the

Queen's cousin, who lives in a charitable apartment in the

Luxembourg, and was sitting on a small bed hung with saints and

Sobieskis, in a corner of one of those vast chambers, by two

blinking tapers. I stumbled over a cat, a footstool, and a

chamber-pot in my journey to her presence. She could not find a

syllable to say to me, and the visit ended with her begging a

lap-dog. Thank the Lord! though this is the first month, it is

the last week, of my reign; and I shall resign my crown with

great satisfaction to a bouillie of chestnuts, which is just

invented and whose annals will be illustrated by so many

indigestions, that Paris will not want any thing else for three

weeks. I will enclose the fatal letter after I have finished

this enormous one; to which I will only add, that nothing has

interrupted my S`evign`e researches but the frost. The Abb`e de

Malherbes has given me full power to ransack I did not tell you,

that by great accident, when I thought on nothing less, I

stumbled on an original picture of the Comte de Grammont, Adieu!

You are generally in London in March: I shall be there by the end

of it.(941)

(928) To the above portrait of Madame du Deffand it may be useful

to subjoin the able development of her character which appeared

in the Quarterly Review for May 1811, in its critique on her

Letters to Walpole:--"This lady seems to have united the

lightness of the French character with the

solidity of the English. She was easy and volatile, yet

judicious and acute; sometimes profound and sometimes

superficial. She had a wit playful, abundant, and well-toned; an

admirable conception of the ridiculous, and great skill in

exposing it; a turn for satire, which she indulged, not always in

the best-natured manner, yet with irresistible effect; powers of

expression varied, appropriate, flowing from the source, and

curious without research; a refined taste for letters, and a

judgment both of men and books in a high degree: enlightened and

accurate. As her parts had been happily thrown together by

nature, they were no less happy in the circumstances which

attended their progress and development. They were refined, not

by a course of solitary study, but by desultory reading, and

chiefly by living intercourse with the brightest geniuses of her

age. Thus trained, they acquired a pliability of movement, which

gave to all their exertions a bewitching air of freedom and

negligence. and made even their last efforts seem only the

exuberances or flowering-off of a mind capable of higher

excellencies, but unambitious to attain them. There was nothing

to alarm or overpower. On whatever topic she touched, trivial or

severe, it was alike en badinant; but in the midst of this

sportiveness, her genius poured itself forth in a thousand

delightful fancies, and scattered new graces and ornaments on

every object within its sphere. In its wanderings from the

trifles of the day to grave questions of morals or philosophy, it

carelessly struck out, and as carelessly abandoned, the most

profound truths; and while it sought only to amuse, suddenly

astonished and electrified by rapid traits of illumination, which

opened the depths of difficult subjects, and roused the

researches of more systematic reasoners. To these qualifications

were added an independence in forming opinions, and a boldness in

avowing them, which wore at least the semblance of honesty; a

perfect knowledge of the world, and that facility of manners,

which in the commerce of society supplies the place of

benevolence."-E.

(929) m. de Pontdeveyle, the younger brother of the Marquis

d'Argental, the friend of Voltaire and of the King of Prussia.

Their mother, Madame do Ferioles, was sister to the celebrated

madame de Tencin and to the Cardinal of the same name. He died

in 1774.-E.

(930) Madame du Deffand, in a letter to Walpole of the 17th of

March 1776, states the Malheurs de l'Amour to be the production

of Madame de Tencin. She describes it as un roman bien `ecrit,

mais qui n'inspire que de la tristesse."-E.

(931) La Mar`ecchale de Mirepoix was the first woman of

consequence who countenanced and appeared in public at Versailles

with Madame du Barri; while, on the other hand, her brother, the

Prince de Beauvau and his wife, gave great offence by refusing to

see her or be of any of her parties. Her person is thus

described by Madame du Deffand:--"Sa figure est charmante, son

teint est `eblouissant; ses traits, sans `etre parfaits, sont Si

bien assortis, que personne n'a l'air plus jeune et n'est plus

jolie."-E.

(932) Le Comte d'Argenson was minister-at-war, and, after

Damien's attempt upon the life of the King of France in 1757, was

disgraced, and exiled to his country-house at Ormes in Poitou.

He was brother to the Marquis d'Argenson, who had been minister

of foreign affairs, and died in 1756. He it was who is said to

have addressed M. Bignon, his nephew, afterwards an academician,

on conferring upon him the appointment of librarian to the King,

"Mon neveu, voil`a une belle occasion pour apprendre `a lire."-E.

(933) The following is the commencement of the song above alluded

to by Walpole:--

"Une petite bourgeoise,

Elev`ee `a la grivoise,

Mesurant tout k sa toise,

Fait de la cour un tandis.

Le Roi, malgr`e son scrupule,

Pour elle froidement br`ule.

Cette flamme ridicule Si

Excite dans tout Paris, ris, ris, ris."

(934) Le Comte de Maurepas, who was married to a sister of the

Duc de la Valli`ere, had been minister of marine, and disgraced,

as Walpole says, at the instigation of the reigning mistress,

Madame de Pompadour. Upon the death of Louis Quinze, he was

immediately summoned to assist in the formation of the ministry

of his successor.-E.

(935 See vol. iii. p. 218, letter 157.-E.

(936) Madame de Rochefort, n`ee Brancas.-E.

(937) La Duchesse de Choiseul, n`ee du Chatel. The husband

appears to have been more attached to her than Walpole supposed;

at least if we may judge from his will, in which he desires to be

buried in the same grave, and expresses his gratification at the

idea of reposing by the side of one whom he had, during his

lifetime, cherished and respected so highly.-E.

(938) La Duchesse de Grammont, sister of the Duke of Choiseul,

does not appear to have deserved the character which Walpole has

here given of her. She was thus described, in 1761, by Mr. Hans

Stanley, in a letter to Mr. Pitt:--"The Duchess is the only

person who has any weight with her brother, the Duc de Choiseul.

She never dissembles her contempt or dislike of any man, in

whatever degree of elevation. It is said she might have supplied

the place of Madame de Pompadour, if she had pleased. She treats

the ceremonies and pageants of courts as things beneath her: she

possesses a most uncommon share of understanding, and has very

high notions of honour and reputation." The crowning act of her

life militates strongly against Walpole's views. When brought

before the Revolutionary tribunal, in April 1794, after having

been seized by order of Robespierre, she astonished her judges by

the grace and dignity of her demeanour; and pleaded, not for her

own life, but eloquently for that of her friend, the Duchesse du

Chatelet: "Que ma mmort soit d`ecid`ee," she said; "cela ne

m'`etonne pas; mais," pointing to her friend, "pour cet ange, en

quoi vous a-t-elle offens`e; elle qui n'a jamais fait tort `a

personne; et dont la vie enti`ere n'offre qu'un tableau de vertu

et de bienfaisance." Both suffered upon the same scaffold. It

was this lady who was selected to be made an example of, from

among many others who slighted Madame du Barri; and for this she

was exiled to the distance of fifteen leagues from Paris, or from

wheresoever the court was assembled.-E.

(939) La Mar`echale Duchesse de Luxembourg, sister to the Duc de

Villeroi, Her first husband was the Duc de Boufflers, by whom she

had a son, the Duc de Boufflers, who died at Genoa of the

small-pox. She afterwards married the Mar`echal Duc de

Luxembourg, at whose country-seat, Montmorency, Jean Jacques

Rousseau was long an inmate.-E.

(940) The Princess of Talmond was born in Poland, and said to be

allied to the Queen, Maria Leczinska, with whom she came to

France, and there married a prince of the house of Bouillon.-E.

(941) Gray, in reference to this letter, writes thus to Dr.

Wharton, on the 5th of March:--"Mr. Walpole writes me now and

then a long and lively letter from Paris, to which place he went

the last summer, with the gout upon him; sometimes in his limbs;

often in his stomach and head. He has got somehow well, (not by

means of the climate, one would think,) goes to all public

places, sees all the best company, and is very much in fashion.

He says he sunk like Queen Eleanor, at Charing-cross, and has

risen again at Paris. He returns again in April; but his health

is certainly in a deplorable state." Works, vol. iv. p. 79.-E.

Letter 293 To The Right Hon. Lady Hervey.

Paris, Feb. 3, 1766. )page 468)

I had the honour of writing to your ladyship on the 4th and 12th

of last month, which I only mention, because the latter went by

the post, which I have found is not always a safe conveyance.

I am sorry to inform you, Madam, that you will not see Madame

Geoffrin this year, as she goes to Poland in May. The King has

invited her, promised her an apartment exactly in her own way,

and that she shall see nobody but whom) she chooses to see. This

will not surprise you, Madam; but what I shall add, will: though

I must beg your ladyship not to mention it even to her, as it is

an absolute secret here, as she does not know that I know it, and

as it was trusted to me by a friend of yours. In short, there

are thoughts of sending her with a public character, or at least

with a commission from hence--a very extraordinary honour, and I

think never bestowed but on the Mar`echale de Gu`ebriant. As the

Dussons have been talked of, and as Madame Geoffrin has enemies,

its being known might make her uneasy that it was known. I

should have told it to no mortal but your ladyship; but I could

not resist giving you such a pleasure. In your answer, Madam, I

need not warn YOU not to specify what I have told you.

My favour here continues ; and favour never displeases. To me,

too, it is a novelty, and I naturally love curiosities. However,

I must be looking towards home, and have perhaps only been

treasuring up regret. At worst I have filled my mind with a new

set of ideas; some resource to a man who was heartily tired of

his old ones. When I tell your ladyship that I play at whisk,

and bear even French music, you will not wonder at any change in

me. Yet I am far from pretending to like every body, or every

thing I see. There are some chapters on which I still fear we

shall not agree; but I will do your ladyship the justice to own,

that you have never said a syllable too much in behalf of the

friends to whom you was so good as to recommend me. Madame

d'Egmont, whom I have mentioned but little, is one of the best

women in the world, and, though not at all striking at first,

_fair)s upon one much. Colonel Gordon, with this letter, brings

you, Madam, some more seeds from her. I have a box of pomatums

for you from Madame de Boufflers, which shall go by the next

conveyance that offers. As he waits for my parcel, I can only

repeat how much I am your ladyship's most obliged and faithful

humble servant.

Letter 294 To George Montagu, Esq.

Paris, Feb. 4, 1766. (page 469)

I write on small paper, that the nothing I have to say may look

like a letter, Paris, that supplies tine with diversions, affords

me no news. England sends me none, on which I care to talk by

the post. All seems in confusion; but I have done with politics!

The marriage of your cousin puts me in mind of the two owls, whom

the Vizier in some Eastern tale told the Sultan were treating on

a match between their children, on whom they were to settle I

don't know how many ruined villages. Trouble not your head about

it. Our ancestors were rogues, and so will our posterity be.

Madame Roland has sent to me, by Lady Jerningham,(942) to beg my

works. She shall certainly have them when I return to England;

but how comes she to forget that you and I are friends? or does

she think that all Englishmen quarrel on party? If she does,

methinks she is a good deal in the right, and it is one of the

reasons why I have bid adieu to politics, that I may not be

expected to love those I hate, and hate those I love. I supped

last night with the Duchess de Choiseul, and saw a magnificent

robe she is to wear to-day for a great wedding between a

Biron(943) and a Boufflers. It is of blue satin, embroidered all

over in mosaic, diamond-wise, with gold: in every diamond is a

silver star edged with gold, and surrounded with spangles in the

same way; it is trimmed with double sables, crossed with frogs

and tassels of gold; her head, neck, breast, and arms, covered

with diamonds. She will be quite the fairy queen, for it is the

prettiest little reasonable amiable Titania you ever saw; but

Oberon does not love it. He prefers a great mortal Hermione his

sister. I long to hear that you are lodged in Arlington-street,

and invested with your green livery; and I love Lord Beaulieu for

his cudom. Adieu!

(942) Mary, eldest daughter, and eventually heiress, of Francis

Plowden, Esq. by Mary eldest daughter of the Hon. John Stafford

Howard, younger son of the unfortunate Lord Stafford, wife of sir

George Jerningham.-E.

(943) The Duc de Lauzun, who upon the death of his uncle, the

Mar`echal de Biron, became Duc de Biron, married the heiress and

only child of the Duc de Boufflers, who died at Genoa. The

marriage proved an unhappy one, and the Duchess twice took refuge

in England at the breaking out of the French revolution; but

having, in 1793, unadvisedly returned to Paris, she perished on

the scaffold in one of the bloody proscriptions of Robespierre.

At the beginning of that revolution, the Duke espoused the

popular cause, and even commanded an army under the orders of the

legislative assembly; but in the storms that succeeded, being

altogether unequal to stem the torrent of popular fury or direct

its course, he fell by the guillotine early in 1794.-E.

Letter 295 To George Montagu, Esq.

Paris, Sunday, Feb. 23. (page 470)

I cannot know that you are in my house, and not say, you are

welcome. Indeed you are, and I am heartily glad you are pleased

there. I have neither matter nor time for more, as I have heard

of an opportunity of sending this away immediately with some

other letters. News do not happen here as in London; the

Parliaments meet, draw up a remonstrance, ask a day for

presenting it, have the day named a week after, and so forth. At

their rate of going on, if Methusalem was first president, he

would not see the end of a single question. As your histories

are somewhat more precipitate, I wait for their coming to some

settlement, and then will return; but, if the old ministers are

to be replaced, Bastille for Bastille, I think I had rather stay

where I am. I am not half so much afraid of any power, as the

French are of Mr. Pitt. Adieu!

Letter 296 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Paris, Feb. 28, 1766. (page 470)

Dear sir,

As you cannot, I believe, get a copy of the letter to Rousseau,

and are impatient for it, I send it you: though the brevity of it

will not answer your expectation. It is no answer to any of his

works, and is only a laugh at his affectations. I hear he does

not succeed in England, where his singularities are no curiosity.

Yet he must stay there, or give up all his pretensions. To quit

a country where he may live at ease, and unpersecuted, will be

owning that tranquillity is not what he seeks. If he again seeks

persecution, who will pity him? I should think even bigots would

let him alone out of contempt.

I have executed your commission in a way that I hope will please

you. As you tell me you have a blue cup and saucer, and a red

one, and would have them completed to six, without being all

alike, I have bought one other blue, one other red, and two

sprigged, in the same manner, with colours; so you will have just

three pair, which seems preferable to six odd ones; and which,

indeed, at nineteen livres a-piece, I think I could not have

found.

I shall keep very near the time I proposed returning; though I am

a little tempted to wait for the appearance of' leaves. As I may

never come hither again, I am disposed to see a little of their

villas and gardens, though it will vex me to lose spring and

lilac-tide at Strawberry. The weather has been so bad, and

continues so cold, that I have not yet seen all I intended in

Paris. To-day, I have been to the Plaine de Sablon, by the Bois

de Boulogne, to see a horserace rid in person by the Count

Lauragais and Lord Forbes.(944) All Paris was in motion by nine

o'clock this morning, and the coaches and crowds were innumerable

at so novel a sight. Would you believe it, that there was an

Englishman to whom it was quite as new? That Englishman was I:

though I live within two miles of Hounslow, have been fifty times

in my life at Newmarket, and have passed through it at the time

of the races, I never before saw a complete one. I once went

from Cambridge on purpose; saw the beginning, was tired, and went

away. If there was to be a review in Lapland, perhaps I might

see a review, too; which yet I have never seen. Lauragais was

distanced at the second circuit. What added to the singularity

was, that at the same instant his brother was gone to church to

be married. But, as Lauragais is at variance with his father and

wife, he chose this expedient to show he was not at the wedding.

Adieu!

(944) James, sixteenth Baron, who married, in 1760, Catherine,

only daughter of Sir Robert Innes, Bart. of orton. He was

Deputy-governor of Fort William, and died there in 1804.-E.

Letter 297 To George Montagu, Esq.

Paris, March 3, 1766. (page 471)

I write, because I ought, and because I have promised you I

would, and because I have an opportunity by Monsieur de

Lillebonne, and in spite of a better reason for being silent,

which is, that I have nothing to say. People marry, die, and are

promoted here about whom neither you nor I care a straw. No,

truly, and I am heartily tired of them, as you may believe when I

am preparing to return. There is a man in the next room actually

nailing my boxes; yet it will be the beginning of April before I

am at home. I have not had so much as a cold in all this

Siberian winter, and I will not venture the tempting the gout by

lying in a bad inn, till the weather is warmer. I wish, too, to

see a few leaves out at Versailles, etc. If I stayed till August

I could not see many; for there is not a tree for twenty miles,

that is not hacked and hewed, till it looks like the stumps that

beggars thrust into coaches to excite charity and miscarriages.

I am going this evening in search of Madame Roland; I doubt we

shall both miss each other's lilies and roses: she may have got

some pionies in their room, but mine are replaced with crocuses.

I love Lord Harcourt for his civility, to you; and I would fain

see you situated under the greenwood-tree, even by a compromise.

You may imagine I am pleased with the defeat, hisses, and

mortification of George Grenville, and The more by the

disappointment it has occasioned here. If you have a mind to vex

them thoroughly, you must make Mr. Pitt minister.(945) They have

not forgot him, whatever we have done.

The King has suddenly been here this morning to hold a lit de

justice: I don't yet know the particulars, except that it was

occasioned by some bold remonstrances of the Parliament on the

subject of That of Bretagne. Louis told me when I waked, that

the Duke de Chevreuil, the governor of Paris, was just gone by in

great state. I long to chat with Mr. Chute and you in the blue

room at Strawberry: though I have little to write, I have a great

deal to say. How do you like his new house? has he no gout?

Are your cousins Cortez and Pizarro heartily mortified that they

are not to roast and plunder the Americans? Is Goody Carlisle

Disappointed at not being appointed grand inquisitor? Adieu! I

will not seal this till I have seen or missed Madame Roland.

Yours ever.

P. S. I have been prevented going to madame Roland, and defer

giving an account of her by this letter.

(945) Mr. Gerard Hamilton, in a letter to Mr. Calcraft, of the

7th, says:--"Grenville and the Duke of Bedford's people continue

to oppose, in every stage, the passage of the bill for the repeal

of the Stamp-act. The reports of the day are, that Mr. Pitt will

go into the House of lords, and form an arrangement, which he

will countenance."-E.

Letter 298 To The Right Hon. Lady Hervey.

Paris, March 10, 1766. (page 472)

There are two points, Madam, on which I must write to your

ladyship, though I have been confined these three or four Days

with an inflammation in my eyes. My watchings and revellings

had, I doubt, heated my blood, and prepared it to receive a

stroke of cold, which in truth was amply administered. We were

two-and-twenty at Mar`echale du Luxembourg's, and supped in a

temple rather than in a hall. It is vaulted at top with gods and

goddesses, and paved with marble; but the god of fire was not of

the number. HOWever, as this is neither of my points, I shall

say no more of it.

I send your ladyship Lady Albemarle's box, which Madame Geoffrin

brought to me herself yesterday. I think it very neat and

charming, and it exceeds the commission but by a guinea and a

half. It is lined with wood between the two golds, as the price

and necessary size would not admit metal enough without, to leave

it of any solidity.

The other point I am indeed ashamed to mention so late. I am

more guilty than even about the scissors. Lord Hertford sent me

word a fortnight ago, that an ensigncy was vacant, to which he

should recommend Mr. Fitzgerald. I forgot both to thank him and

to acquaint your ladyship, who probably know it without my

communication. I have certainly lost my memory! This is so idle

and young, that I begin to fear I have acquired something of the

Fashionable man, which I so much dreaded. It is to England then

that I must return to recover friendship and attention? I

literally wrote to Lord Hertford, and forgot to thank him. Sure

I did not use to be so abominable! I cannot account for it; I am

as black as ink, and must turn Methodist, to fancy that

repentance can wash me white again. No, I will not; for then I

may sin again, and trust to the same nostrum.

I had the honour of sending your ladyship the funeral sermon on

the Dauphin, and a tract to laugh at sermons: "Your bane and

antidote are both before you." The first is by the Archbishop of

Toulouse,(946) who is thought the first man of the clergy. It

has some sense, no pathetic, no eloquence, and, I think, clearly

no belief in his own doctrine. The latter is by the Abb`e

Coyer,(947) written livelily, upon a single idea; and, though I

agree upon the inutility of the remedy he rejects, I have no

better opinion of that he would substitute. Preaching has not

failed from the beginning of the world till to-day, not because

inadequate to the disease, but because the disease is incurable.

If one preached to lions and tigers, would it cure them of

thirsting for blood, and sucking it when they have an opportunity

No; but when they are whelped in the Tower, and both caressed and

beaten, do they turn out a jot more tame when they are grown up?

So far from it, all the kindness in the world, all the attention,

cannot make even a monkey (that is no beast of prey) remember a

pair of scissors or an ensigncy.

Adieu, Madam! and pray don't forgive me, till I have forgiven

myself. I dare not close my letter with any professions; for

could you believe them in one that had so much reason to think

himself Your most obedient humble servant?

(946) Brionne de Lomenie, Archbishop of Toulouse, and afterwards

Cardinal de Lomenie or as he was nicknamed by the populace of

Paris, "Cardinal de l'Ignominie," was great-nephew to Madame du

Deffand. The spirit of political intrigue raised him to the

administration of affairs during the last struggles of the old

r`egime, and exposed him to the contempt he deserved for aspiring

to such a situation at such a moment. He was arrested at the

commencement of the Revolution, and escaped the guillotine by

dying in one of the prisons at Paris in 1794.-E.

(947) This pamphlet of the Abb`e Coyer, which was entitled "On

Preaching," produced a great sensation in Paris at the time of

its publication. Its object is to prove, that those who have

occupied themselves in preaching to others, ever since the world

began, whether poets, priests, or philosophers, have been but a

parcel of prattlers, listened to if eloquent, laughed at if dull;

but who have never corrected any body: the true preacher being

the government, which joins to the moral maxims which it

inculcates the force of example and the power of execution.

Baron de Grimm characterizes the Abb`e as being "l'homme du monde

le plus lourd, l'ennui personnifi`e," and relates the following

anecdote of him during his visit to Voltaire at the Chateau de

Ferney:-" "The first day, the philosopher bore his company with

tolerable politeness; but the next morning he interrupted him in

a long prosing narrative of his travels, by this question:

'Savez-vous bien, M. l'Abb`e, la difference qu'il y a entre Don

Quichotte et vous? c'est que Don Quichotte prenait toutes les

auberges pour des chateaux; et vous, vous prenez tous les

ch`ateaux pour des auberges.'" The Abb`e died in 1782.-E.

Letter 299 To George Montagu, Esq.

Paris, March 12, 1766. (page 474)

I can write but two lines, for I have been confined these four or

five days with a violent inflammation in my eyes, and which has

prevented my returning to Madame Roland. I did not find her at

home, but left your letter. My right eye is well again, and I

have been to take air.

How can you ask leave to carry any body to Strawberry? May not

you do what you please with me and mine? Does not

Arlington-street comprehend Strawberry? why don't you go and lie

there if you like it'? It will be, I think, the middle of April,

before I return; I have lost a week by this confinement, and

would fain satisfy my curiosity entirely, now I am here. I have

seen enough, and too much, of the people. I am glad you are upon

civil terms with Habiculeo. The less I esteem folks, the less I

would quarrel with them.

I don't wonder that Colman and Garrick write ill In concert,(948)

when they write ill separately; however, I am heartily glad the

Clive shines. Adieu! Commend me to Charles-street. Kiss Fanny,

and Mufti, and Ponto for me, when you go to Strawberry: dear

souls, I long to kiss them myself.

(948) The popular comedy of The Clandestine Marriage, the joint

production of Garrick and Colman, had just been brought out at

Drury-lane theatre.-E.

Letter 300 To George Montagu, Esq.

Paris, March 21, 1766. (page 474)

You make me very happy, in telling me you have been so

comfortable in my house. If you would set up a bed there, you

need never go out of it. I want to invite you, not to expel you.

April the tenth my pilgrimage will end, and the fifteenth, or

sixteenth, you may expect to see me, not much fattened with the

flesh-pots of Egypt, but almost as glad to come amongst you again

as I was to leave you.

Your Madame Roland is not half so fond of me as she tells me; I

have been twice at her door, left your letter and my own

direction, but have not received so much as a message to tell me

she is sorry she was not at home. Perhaps this is her first

vision of Paris, and it is natural for a Frenchwoman to have her

head turned with it; though what she takes for rivers of emerald,

and hotels of ruby and topaz, are to my eyes, that have been

purged with euphrasy and rue, a filthy stream, in which every

thing is washed without being cleaned, and dirty houses, ugly

streets, worse shops, and churches loaded with bad pictures.(949)

Such is the material part of this paradise; for the corporeal,,if

Madame Roland admires it, I have nothing to say; however, I shall

not be sorry to make one at Lady Frances Elliot's. Thank you for

admiring my deaf old woman; if I could bring my old blind one

with me, I should resign this paradise as willingly as if it was

built of opal, and designed by a fisherman, who thought that what

makes a fine necklace would make a finer habitation.

We did not want your sun; it has shone here for a fortnight with

all its lustre but yesterday a north wind, blown by the Czarina

herself I believe, arrived, and declared a month of March of full

age. This morning it snowed; and now, clouds of dust are

whisking about the streets and quays, edged with an east wind,

that gets under one's very shirt. I should not be quite sorry if

a little of it tapped my lilacs on their green noses, and bade

them wait for their master.

The Princess of Talmond sent me this morning a picture of two

pup-dogs, and a black and white greyhound, wretchedly painted. I

could not conceive what I was to do with this daub, but in her

note she warned me not to hope to keep it. It was only to

imprint on my memory the size, and features, and spots of Diana,

her departed greyhound, in order that I might get her exactly

such another. Don't you think my memory will return well stored,

if it is littered with defunct lapdogs. She is so devout, that I

did not dare send her word, that I am not possessed of a twig of

Jacob's broom, with which he streaked cattle as he pleased

T'other day, in the street, I saw a child in a leading-string,

whose nurse gave it a farthing for a beggar; the babe delivered

its mite with a grace, and a twirl of the hand. I don't think

your cousin's first grandson will be so well bred. Adieu! Yours

ever.

(949) Walpole's picture of Paris, in 1766, is not much more

favourable than that of Peter Heylin, who visited that city in

the preceding century:--"This I am confident of," says Peter,

"that the nastiest lane in London is frankincense and juniper to

the sweetest street in this city. The ancient by-word was (and

there is good reason for it) 'il destaient comme la fange de

Paris:' had I the power of making proverbs, I would only change

destaient' into 'il put,' and make the by-word ten times more

orthodox. That which most amazed me is, that in such a

perpetuated constancy of stinks, there should yet be variety--a

variety so special and distinct, that my chemical nose (I dare

lay my life on it), after two or three perambulations, would hunt

out blindfold each several street by the smell, as perfectly as

another by the eye."-E.

Letter 301 To George Montagu, Esq.

Paris, April 3, 1766. (page 475)

One must be just to all the world; Madame Roland, I find, has

been in the country, and at Versailles, and was so obliging as to

call on me this morning, but I was so disobliging as not to be

awake. I was dreaming dreams; in short, I had dined at Livry;

yes, yes, at Livry, with a Langlade and De la Rochefoucaulds.

The abbey is now possessed by an Abb`e de Malherbe, with whom I

am acquainted, and who had given me a general invitation. I put

it off to the last moment, that the bois and all`ees might set

off the scene a little, and contribute to the vision; but it did

not want it. Livry is situated in the For`et de Bondi, very

agreeably on a flat, but with hills near it, and in prospect.

There is a great air of simplicity and rural about it, more

regular than our taste, but with an old-fashioned tranquillity,

and nothing of coligichet. Not a tree exists that remembers the

charming woman, because in this country an old tree is a traitor,

and forfeits its head to the crown; but the plantations are not

young, and might very well be as they were in her time. The

Abb`e's house is decent and snug; a few paces from it is the

sacred pavilion built for Madame de S`evign`e by her uncle, and

much as it was in her day; a small saloon below for dinner, then

an arcade, but the niches now closed, and painted in fresco with

medallions of her, the Grignan, the Fayette, and the

Rochefoucauld. Above, a handsome large room, with a

chimney-piece in the best taste of Louis the Fourteenth's time; a

holy family in good relief over it, and the cipher of her uncle

Coulanges; a neat little bedchamber within, and two or three

clean little chambers over them. On one side of the garden,

leading to the great road, is a little bridge of wood, on which

the dear woman used to wait for the courier that brought her

daughter's letters. Judge with what veneration and satisfaction

I set my foot upon it! If you will come to France with Me next

year, we will go and sacrifice on that sacred spot together.

On the road to Livry I passed a new house on the pilasters of the

gate to which were two sphinxes in stone, with their heads

coquetly reclined, straw hats, and French cloaks slightly pinned,

and not hiding their bosoms. I don't know whether I or Memphis

would have been more diverted. I shall set out this day

se'nnight, the tenth, and be in London about the fifteenth or

sixteenth, if the wind is fair. Adieu! Yours ever.

P. S. I need not say, I suppose, that this letter is to Mr.

Chute, too.

Letter 302 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.

Paris, April 6, 1766. (page 476)

In a certain city of Europe(950) it is the custom to wear

slouched hats, long cloaks, and high capes. Scandal and the

government called this dress going in mask, and pretended that it

contributed to assassination. An ordonnance was published,

commanding free-born hats to be cocked, cloaks to be shortened,

and capes laid aside. All the world obeyed for the first day:

but the next, every thing returned into its old channel. In the

evening a tumult arose, and cries of,, "God bless the King! God

bless the kingdom! but confusion to Squillaci, the prime

minister."(951) The word was no sooner given, but his house was

beset, the windows broken, and the gates attempted. The guards

came and fired on the weavers(952) of cloaks. The weavers

returned the fire, and many fell on each side. As the hour of

supper approached and the mob grew hungry, they recollected a tax

upon bread, and demanded the repeal. the King yielded to both

requests, and hats and loaves were set at liberty. The people

were not contented, and still insisted on the permission of

murdering the first minister; though his Majesty assured his

faithful commons that the minister was never consulted on acts of

government, and was only his private friend, who sometimes called

upon him in an evening to drink a glass of wine and talk botany.

The people were incredulous, and continued in mutiny when the

last letters came away. If you should happen to suppose, as I

did, that this history arrived in London, do not be alarmed; for

it was at Madrid; and a nation who has borne the Inquisition

cannot support a cocked hat. So necessary it is for governors to

know when lead or a feather will turn the balance of human

understandings, or will not!

I should not have entrenched on Lord George's(953) province of

sending you news of revolutions, but he is at Aubign`e; and I

thought it right to advertise you in time, in case you should

have a mind to send a bale of slouched hats to the support of the

mutineers. As I have worn a flapped hat all my life, when I have

worn any at all, I think myself qualified, and would offer my

service to command them; but, being persuaded that you are a

faithful observer of treaties, though a friend to repeals, I

shall come and receive your commands in person. In the mean time

I cannot help figuring what a pompous protest my Lord Lyttelton

might draw up in the character of an old grandee against the

revocation of the act for cocked hats.

Lady Ailesbury forgot to send me word of your recovery, as she

promised; but I was so lucky as to hear it from other hands.

Pray take care of yourself, and do not imagine that you are as

weak as I am, and can escape the scythe, as I do, by being low:

your life is of more consequence. If you don't believe me, step

into the street and ask the first man you meet.

This is Sunday, and Thursday is fixed for my departure, unless

the Clairon should return to the stage on Tuesday se'nnight, as

it is said; and I do not know whether I should not be tempted to

borrow two or three days more, having never seen her; yet my

lilacs pull hard, and I have not a farthing left in the world.

Be sure you do not leave a cranny open for George Grenville to

wriggle it), till I have got all my things out of the

customhouse. Adieu! Yours ever.

(950) This account alludes to the insurrection at Madrid, on the

attempt of the court to introduce the French dress in Spain.

(951) Squillace, an Italian, whom the King was obliged to banish.

(952) Alluding to the mobs of silk-weavers which had taken place

in London.

(953) Lord George Lenox, only brother to the Duke of Richmond.

Letter 303 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.

Paris, April 8, 1766. (page 478)

I sent you a few lines by the post yesterday with the first of

the insurrection at Madrid. I have since seen Stahremberg,(954)

the imperial minister, who has had a courier from thence; and if

Lord Rochford(955) has not sent one, you will not be sorry to

know more particulars. The mob disarmed the Invalids; stopped

all coaches, to prevent Squillaci's flight; and meeting the Duke

de Medina Celi, forced him and the Duke d'Arcos to carry their

demands to the King. His most frightened Majesty granted them

directly; on which his highness the people despatched a monk with

their demands in writing, couched in four articles; the

diminution of the gabel on bread and oil; the revocation of the

ordonnance on hats and cloaks; the banishment of Squillaci; and

the abolition of some other tax, I don't know what. The King

signed all; yet was still forced to appear at a balcony, and

promise to observe what he had granted. Squillaci was sent with

an escort to Carthagena, to embark for Naples, and the first

commissioner of the treasury appointed to succeed him; which does

not look much like observation of the conditions. Some say

Ensenada is recalled, and that Grimaldi is in no good odour with

the people. If the latter and Squillaci are dismissed, we get

rid of two enemies.

The tumult ceased on the grant of the demands; but the King

retiring that night to Aranjuez, the insurrection was renewed the

next morning on pretence that this flight was a breach of the

capitulation The people seized the gates of the capital, and

permitted nobody to go out. In this state were things when the

courier came away. the ordonnance against going in disguise

looks as if some suspicions had been conceived; and yet their

confidence was so great as not to have two thousand guards in the

town. The pitiful behaviour of the court makes one think that

the Italians were frightened, and that the Spanish part of the

ministry were not sorry it took that turn. As I suppose there is

no great city in Spain which has not at least a bigger bundle of

grievances than the capital, one shall not wonder if the

pusillanimous behaviour of the King encourages them to redress

themselves too.

There is what is called a change of the ministry here; but it is

only a crossing over and figuring in. The Duc de Praslin has

wished to retire for some time; and for this last fortnight there

has been talk of his being replaced by the Duc d'Aiguillon. the

Duc de Nivernois, etc.; but it is plain, though not believed till

now, that the Duc de Choiseul is all-powerful. To purchase the

stay of his cousin Praslin, on whom he can depend, and to leave

no cranny open, he has ceded the marine and colonies to the Due

de Praslin, and taken the foreign and military department

himself. His cousin is, besides, named chef du conseil des

finances; a very honourable, very dignified, and very idle place,

and never filled since the Duc de Bethune had it. Praslin's

hopeful cub, the Viscount, whom you saw in England last year,

goes to Naples; and the Marquis de Durfort to Vienna--a cold,

dry, proud man, with the figure and manner of Lord Cornbury.

Great matters are expected to-day from the Parliament, which

re-assembles. A mousquetaire, his piece loaded with a lettre de

cachet, went about a fortnight ago to the notary who keeps the

parliamentary registers, and demanded them. They were refused--

but given up, on the lettre de cachet being produced. The

Parliament intends to try the notary for breach of trust, which I

suppose will make his fortune; though he has not the merit of

perjury, like Carteret Webb.

There have been insurrections at Bordeaux and Tailless, on the

militia, and twenty-seven persons were killed at the latter: but

both are appeased. These things are so much in vogue, that I

wonder the French do not dress `a la r`evolte. The Queen is in a

very dangerous way. This will be my last letter; but I am not

sure I shall set out before the middle of next week. Yours ever.

(954) Prince Stahremberg: he had married a daughter of the Duc

d'Arembert, by his Duchess, nee la Marche.

(955) William Henry Zuleistein de Nassau, Earl of Rochford, who

was at this time the English ambassador extraordinary at the

court of Spain.

Letter 304 To The Rev. Mr. COLE.

Arlington Street, May 10, 1766. (page 479)

At last I am come back, dear Sir, and in good health. I have

brought you four cups and saucers, one red and white, one blue

and white, and two coloured; and a little box of pastils. Tell

me whether and how I shall convey them to you; or whether you

will, as I hope, come to Strawberry this summer, and fetch them

yourself; but if you are in the least hurry, I will send them.

I flatter myself you have quite recovered your accident, and have

no remains of lameness. The spring is very wet and cold, but

Strawberry alone contains more verdure than all France.

I scrambled very well through the custom-house at Dover, and have

got all my china safe from that here in town. You will see the

fruits when you come to Strawberry Hill. Adieu!

Letter 305 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Arlington Street, May 13, 1766. (page 479)

Dear sir,

I am forced to do a very awkward thing, and send you back one of

your letters, and, what is still worse, opened. The case was

this: I received your two at dinner, opened one and laid the

other in my lap; but forgetting that I had taken one out of the

first, I took up the wrong 'Hand broke it open,. without

perceiving my mistake, till I saw the words, Dear Sister. I give

you my honour I read no farther, but had torn it too much to send

it away. Pray excuse me; and another time I beg you will put an

envelope, for you write just where the seal comes; and besides,

place the seals so together that though I did not quite open the

fourth letter, yet it stuck so to the outer seal, that I could

not help tearing it a little. Adieu!

Letter 306 To George Montagu, Esq.

Strawberry Hill, May 25, 1766. (page 480)

When the weather will please to be in a little better temper, I

will call upon you to perform your promise; but I cannot in

conscience invite you to a fireside. The Guerchys and French

dined here last Monday, and it rained so that we could no more

walk in the garden than Noah could. I came again, to-day, but

shall return to town to-morrow, as I hate to have no sun in May,

but what I can make with a peck of coals.

I know no news, but that the Duke of Richmond is secretary of

state,(956) and that your cousin North has refused the

vice-treasurer of Ireland. It cost him bitter pangs, not to

preserve his virtue, but his vicious connexions. He goggled his

eyes, and groped in his money-pocket; more than half consented;

nay, so much more, that when he got home he wrote an excuse to

Lord Rockingham, which made it plain that he thought he had

accepted. As nobody was dipped deeper in the warrants and

prosecution of Wilkes, there is no condoling with the ministers

on missing so foul a bargain. They are only to be pitied, that

they can purchase nothing but damaged goods.

So, my Lord Grandison(957) is dead! Does the General inherit

much? Have you heard the great loss the church of England has

had? It is not avowed; but hear the evidence and judge. On

Sunday last, George Selwyn was strolling home to dinner at half

an hour after four. He saw my Lady Townshend's coach stop at

Caraccioli's(958) chapel. He watched, saw her go in; her footman

laughed; he followed. She Went up to the altar, a woman brought

her a cushion; she knelt, crossed herself, and prayed. He stole

up, and knelt by her. Conceive her face, if you can, when she

turned and found his close to her. In his demure voice, he said,

"Pray, Madam, how long has your ladyship left the pale of our

church!" She looked furies, and made no answer. Next day he

went to her, and she turned it off upon curiosity; but is any

thing more natural? No, she certainly means to go armed with

every viaticum, the church of England in one hand, Methodism in

the other, and the Host in her mouth.

Have you ranged your forest, and seen your lodge yourself? I

could almost wish it may not answer, and that you may cast an eye

towards our neighbourhood. My Lady Shelburne(959) has taken a

house here, and it has produced a bon-mot from Mrs. Clive. You

know my Lady Suffolk is deaf, and I have talked much of a

charming old passion I have at Paris, who is blind; "Well," said

the Clive, "if the new Countess is but lame, I shall have no

chance of ever seeing you." Good night!

(956) When the Duke of Grafton quitted the seals, they were

offered first to Lord Egmont, then to Lord Hardwicke, who both

declined them; "but, after their going a-begging for some time,"

says Lord Chesterfield, " the Duke of Richmond begged them, and

has them, faute de mieux."-E.

(957) John Villiers, fifth Viscount Grandison. He had bee

n elevated to the earldom in 1721; which title became extinct,

and the viscounty devolved upon William third Earl of Jersey.-E.

(958) The Marquis de Carraccioli, ambassador from the court of

Naples.-E

(959) Mary Countess of Shelburne, widow of the Hon. John

Fitzmaurice, first Earl of Shelburne. She was likewise his first

cousin, being the daughter of the Hon. William Fitzmaurice, of

Gailane, in the county of Kerry.-E.

Letter 307 To George Montagu, Esq.

Strawberry Hill, June 20, 1766. (page 481)

I don't know when I shall see you, but therefore must not I write

to you? Yet I have as little to say as may be. I could cry

through a whole page over the bad weather. I have but a lock of

hay, you know; and I cannot get it dry, unless I bring it to the

fire. I would give half-a-crown for a pennyworth of sun. It is

abominable to be ruined in coals in the middle of June.

What pleasure have you to come! there is a new thing published,

that will make you split your cheeks with laughing. It is called

the New Bath Guide.(960) It stole into the world, and for a

fortnight no soul looked into it, concluding its name was the

true name. No such thing. It is a set of letters in verse, in

all kind of verses, describing the life at Bath, and incidentally

every thing else; but so much wit, so much humour, fun, and

poetry, so much originality, never met together before. Then the

man has a better ear than Dryden or Handel. Apropos to Dryden,

he has burlesqued his St. Cecilia, that you will never read it

again without laughing. There is a description of a milliner's

box in all the terms of landscape, painted lawns and chequered

shades, a Moravian ode, and a Methodist ditty, that are

incomparable, and the best names that ever were composed. I can

say it by heart, though a quarto, and if I had time would write

it you down; for it is not yet reprinted, and not one to be had.

There are two volumes, too, of Swift's Correspondence, that will

not amuse you less in another way, though abominable, for there

are letters of twenty persons now alive; fifty of Lady Betty

Germain, one that does her great honour in which she defends her

friend Lady Suffolk, with all the spirit in the world,(961)

against that brute, who hated every body that he hoped would get

him a mitre, and did not. His own Journal sent to Stella during

the four last years of the Queen, is a fund of entertainment.

You will see his insolence in full colours, and, at the same

time, how daily vain he was of being noticed by the ministers he

affected to treat arrogantly. His panic, at the Mohocks is

comical; but what strikes one, is bringing before one's eyes the

incidents of a curious period. He goes to the rehearsal of Cato,

and says the drab that acted Cato's daughter could not say her

part. This was only Mrs. Oldfield. I was saying before George

Selwyn, that this journal put me in mind of the present time,

there was the same indecision, irresolution, and want of system;

but I added, "There is nothing new under the sun." "No," said

Selwyn, "nor under the grandson."

My Lord Chesterfield has done me much honour: he told Mrs. Anne

Pitt that he would subscribe to any politics that I should lay

down. When she repeated this to me, I said, "Pray tell him I

have laid down politics."

I am got into puns and will tell you an excellent one of the King

of France, though it does not spell any better than Selwyn's.

You must have heard of Count Lauragais, and his horserace, and

his quacking his horse till he killed it. At his return the King

asked him what he had been doing in England? "Sire, j'ai appris

`a Penser"--"Des chevaux?" replied the King.(962) Good night! I

am tired, and going to bed. Yours ever.

(960) By Christopher Anstey. This production became highly

popular for its pointed and original humour, and led to numerous

imitations. Gray, in a letter to Dr. Wharton, says--"Have you

read the New Bath Guide? It is the only thing in fashion, and is

a new and original kind of humour. Miss Prue's conversation I

doubt you will paste down, as Sir W. St. Quintyn did before he

carried it to his daughter; yet I remember you all read Crazy

Tales without pasting." Works, vol. iv. p. 84.-E.

(961) The letter in question is dated Feb. 8, 1732-3, and the

following is the passage to which Walpole refers;--"Those out of

power and place always see the faults of those in, with dreadful

large spectacles. The strongest in my memory is Sir Robert

Walpole, being first pulled to pieces in the year 1720, because

the South Sea did not rise high enough; and since that, he has

been to the full as well banged about, because it did rise too

high. I am determined never wholly to believe any side or party

against@ the other; so my house receives them altogether, and

those people meet here that have, and would fight in any other

place. Those of them that have great and good qualities and

virtues, I love and admire; in which number is Lady Suffolk,

because I know her to be a wise, discreet, honest, and sincere

courtier."-E.

(962) See ant`e, p. 389, letter 248, note 802.-E.

Letter 308 To The Right Hon. Lady Hervey.

Strawberry Hill, June 28, 1766. (page 482)

It is consonant to your ladyship's long experienced goodness, to

remove my error as soon as you could. In fact, the same post

that brought Madame d'Aiguillon's letter to you, brought me a

confession from Madame du Deffand of her guilt.(963) I am not

the less obliged to your ladyship for informing against the true

criminal. It is well for

me, however, that I hesitated, and did not, as Monsieur Guerchy

pressed me to do, constitute myself prisoner. What a ridiculous

vainglorious figure I should have made at Versailles, with a

laboured letter and my present! I still shudder when I think of

it, and have scolded(9

64) Madame du Deffand black and blue. However, I feel very

comfortable; and though it will be imputed to my own vanity, that

I showed the box as Madam de Choiseul's present, I resign the

glory, and submit to the Shame with great satisfaction. I have

no pain in receiving this present from Madame du Deffand; and

must own have great pleasure that nobody but she could write that

most charming of all letters. Did not Lord Chesterfield think it

so, Madam? I doubt our friend Mr. Hume must allow that not only

Madame de Boufflers, but Voltaire himself, could not have written

so well. When I give up Madame de S`evign`e herself, I think his

sacrifices will be trifling.

Pray, Madam, continue your waters; and, if possible, wash away

that original sin, the gout. What would one give for a little

rainbow to tell one one should never have it again! Well, but

then one should have a burning fever--for I think the greatest

comfort that good-natured divines give us IS, that we are not to

be drowned any more, in order that we may be burned. It will not

at least be this summer. here is nothing but haycocks swimming

round me. If it should cease raining by Monday se'nnight, I

think of' dining with your ladyship at Old Windsor; and if Mr.

Bateman presses me mightily, I may take a bed there.

As I have a waste of paper before me, and nothing more to say, I

have a mind to fill it with a translation of a tale that I found

lately in the Dictionnaire d'Anecdotes, taken from a German

author. The novelty of it struck me, and I put it into verse--

ill enough; but as the old Duchess of Rutland used to say of a

lie, it will do for news into the country.

"From Time's usurping power, I see,

Not Acheron itself is free.

His wasting hand my subjects feel,

Grow old, and wrinkle though in Hell.

Decrepit is Alecto grown,

Megaera worn to skin and bone;

And t'other beldam is so old,

She has not spirits left to scold.

Go, Hermes, bid my brother Jove

Send three new Furies from above."

To Mercury thus Pluto said:

The winged deity obey'd.

It was about the self same season

That Juno, with as little reason,

Rung for her abigail; and, you know,

Iris is chambermaid to Juno.

"Iris, d'ye hear? Mind what I say;

I want three maids--inquire--No, stay!

Three virgins--Yes, unspotted all;

No characters equivocal.

Go find me three, whose manners pure

Can Envy's sharpest tooth endure."

The goddess curtsey'd, and retired;

>From London to Pekin inquired;

Search'd huts and palaces in vain;

And tired, to Heaven came back again.

"Alone! are you return'd alone?

How wicked must the world be grown!

What has my profligate been doing?

On earth has he been spreading ruin?

Come, tell me all."--Fair Iris sigh'd,

And thus disconsolate replied:--

"'Tis true, O Queen! three maids I found--

The like are not on Christian ground--

So chaste, severe, immaculate,

The very name of man they hate:

These--but, alas! I came too late;

For Hermes had been there before--

In triumph off to Pluto bore

Three sisters, whom yourself would own

The true supports of Virtue's throne."

"To Pluto!--Mercy!" cried the Queen,

"What can my brother Pluto mean?

Poor man! he doats, or mad he sure is!

What can he want them for?"--"Three Furies."

You will say I am an infernal poet; but every body cannot write

as they do aux Champs Elys`ees. Adieu, Madam!

(963) Madame du Deffand had sent Mr. Walpole a snuff-box, on the

lid of which was a portrait of Madame de S`evign`e, accompanied

by a letter written in her name from the Elysian Fields, and

addressed to Mr. Walpole; who did not at first suspect Madame du

Deffand as the author, but thought both the present and the

letter had come from the Duchess of Choiseul. ("One of the

principal features, and it must be called, when carried to such

excess, one of the principal weaknesses of Mr. Walpole's

character, was a fear of ridicule--a fear which, , like most

others, often leads to greater dangers than that which it seeks

to avoid. At the commencement of his acquaintance with madame du

Deffand, he was near fifty, and she above seventy years of age,

and entirely blind. She had already long passed the first epoch

in the life of a Frenchwoman, that of gallantry, and had as long

been established as a bel esprit; and it is to be remembered

that, in the ante-revolutionary world of paris, these epochs in

life were as determined, and as strictly observed, as the changes

of dress on a particular day of the different seasons; and that a

woman endeavouring to attract lovers after she ceased to be

galante, would have been not less ridiculous as her wearing

velvet when the rest of the world were in demi-soisons. Madame

du Deffand, therefore, old and blind, had no more idea of

attracting Mr. Walpole to her as a lover than she had of the

possibility of any one suspecting her of such an intention; and

indeed her lively feelings, and the violent fancy she had taken

for his conversation and character, in every expression of

admiration and attachment which she really felt, and which she

never supposed capable of misinterpretation. By himself they

were not misinterpreted; but he seems to have had ever before his

eyes a very unnecessary dread of that being so by others--a fear

lest madame du Deffand's extreme partiality and high opinion

should expose him to suspicions of entertaining the same opinion

of himself, or of its leading her to some extravagant mark of

attachment; and all this, he persuaded himself, was to be exposed

in their letters to all the clerks of the post-office at paris

and all the idlers at Versailles. This accounts for the

ungracious language in which he often replied to the

importunities of her anxious affection; a language so foreign to

his heart, and so contrary to his own habits in friendship: this

too accounts for his constantly repressing on her part all

effusions of sentiment, all disquisitions on the human heart, and

all communications of its vexations, weaknesses, and pains."

Preface to "Letters of Madame du Deffand to Mr. Walpole."-E.

(964) Vous avez si bien fait," replied Madame du Deffand, "par vo

le`cons, vos pr`eceptes, vos gronderies, et, le pis do tous, par

vos ironies, que vous `etes presque parvenu `a me rendre fausse,

ou, pour le moins, fort dissimul`ee."-E.

Letter 309 To George Montagu, Esq.

Arlington Street, July 10, 1766. (page 485)

Don't you think a complete year enough for any administration to

last? One, who at least can remove them, though he cannot make

them, thinks so; and, accordingly, yesterday notified that he had

sent for Mr. Pitt.(965) Not a jot more is known; but as this set

is sacrificed to their resolution to have nothing to do with Lord

Bute, the new list will probably not be composed Of such hostile

ingredients. The arrangement I believe settled in the outlines;

if it is not, it may still never take place: it will not be the

first time this egg has been addled. One is very sure that many

people on all sides will be displeased, and I think no side quite

contented. Your cousins, the house of Yorke, Lord George

Sackville, Newcastle, and Lord Rockingham, will certainly not be

of the elect. What Lord Temple will do, or if any thing will be

done for George Grenville, are great points of curiosity. The

plan will probably be, to pick and cull from all quarters, and

break all parties as much as possible.(966) From this moment I

date the wane of Mr. Pitt's glory; he will want the thorough-bass

of drums and trumpets, and is not made for peace. The dismission

of a most popular administration, a leaven of Lord Bute, whom,

too, he can never trust, and the numbers he will discontent, will

be considerable objects against him.

For my own part, I am much pleased, and much diverted. I have

nothing to do but to sit by and laugh; a humour you know I am apt

to indulge. You shall hear from me again soon.

(965) On the 7th the King addressed a letter to Mr. Pitt,

expressing a desire to have his thoughts how an able and

dignified ministry might be formed, and requesting him to come to

town for that salutary purpose. The letter will be found in the

Chatham Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 436.-E.

(966) "Here are great bustles at court," writes Lord

Chesterfield, on the 11th, "and a great change of persons is

certainly very near. My conjecture is, that, be the new

settlement what it will, Mr. Pitt will be at the head of it. If

he is, I presume, qu'il aura mis de l'eau dans son vin par

rapport `a My lord Bute: when that shall come to be known, as

known it certainly Will soon be, he may bid adieu to his

popularity."-E.

Letter 310 To George Montagu, Esq.

Arlington Street, July 21, 1766. (page 485)

You may strike up your sackbut, psaltery, and dulcimer; for Mr.

Pitt(967) comes in, and Lord Temple does not. Can I send you a

more welcome affirmative or negative? My sackbut is not very

sweet, and here is the ode I have made for it:

When Britain heard the woful news,

That Temple was to be minister,

To look upon it could she choose

But as an omen most sinister?

But when she heard he did refuse,

In spite of Lady Chat. his sister,

What could she do but laugh, O Muse?

And so she did, till she ***** her.

If that snake had wriggled in, he would have drawn after him the

whole herd of vipers; his brother Demogorcon and all. 'Tis a

blessed deliverance.

The changes I should think now would be few. They are not yet

known; but I am content already, and shall go to Strawberry

to-morrow, where I shall be happy to receive you and Mr. John any

day after Sunday next, the twenty-seventh, and for as many days

as ever you will afford me. Let me know your mind by the return

of the post. Strawberry is in perfection: the verdure has all

the bloom of spring: the orange-trees are loaded with blossoms,

the gallery all sun and gold, Mrs. Clive all sun and vermilion--

in short, come away to Yours ever.

P. S. I forgot to tell you, and I hate to steal and not tell,

that my ode is imitated from Fontaine.

(967) Mr. Pitt was gazetted, on the 30th of July, Viscount Pitt,

of Burton Pynsent, and Earl of Chatham. The same gazette

contained the notification of his appointment as lord privy seal

in the room of the Duke of Newcastle. "What shall I say to you

about the ministry?" writes Gray to Wharton: "I am as angry as a

common-councilman of London about my Lord Chatham, but a little

more patient, and will hold my tongue till the end of the year.

In the mean time, I do mutter in secret, and to you, that to quit

the House of Commons, his natural strength, to sap his own

popularity and grandeur, (which no man but himself could have

done,) by assuming a foolish title; and to hope that he could win

by it, and attach him to a court that hate him, and will dismiss

him as soon as ever they dare, was the weakest thing that ever

was done by so great a man. Had it not been for this, I should

have rejoiced at the breach between him and Lord Temple, and at

the union between him and the Duke of Grafton and Mr. Conway: but

patience! we shall see!" Works, vol. iv. p. 83.-E.

Letter 311 To David Hume, Esq.(968)

Arlington Street, July 26, 1766. (page 486)

Dear Sir,

Your set of literary friends are what a set of literary men are

apt to be, exceedingly absurd. They hold a consistory to consult

how to argue with a madman; and they think it very necessary for

your character to give them the pleasure of seeing Rousseau

exposed, not because he has provoked you, but them. If Rousseau

prints, you must; but I certainly would not till he does.(969)

I cannot be precise as to the time of my writing the King of

Prussia's letter; but I do assure you with the utmost truth that

it was several days before you left Paris, and before Rousseau's

arrival there, of which I can give you a strong proof; for I not

only suppressed the letter while you stayed there, out of

delicacy to you, but it was the reason why, out of delicacy to

myself, I did not go to see him, as you often proposed to me,

thinking it wrong to go and make a cordial visit to a man, with a

letter in my pocket to laugh at him. You are at full liberty,

dear Sir, to make use of what I say in your justification, either

to Rousseau or any body else. I should be very sorry to have you

blamed on my account; I have a hearty contempt of Rousseau, and

am perfectly indifferent what the literati of Paris think of the

matter. If there is any fault, which I am far from thinking, let

it lie on me. No parts can hinder my laughing at their

possessor, if he is a mountebank. If he has a bad and most

ungrateful heart, as Rousseau has shown in your case, into the

bargain, he will have my scorn likewise, as he will of all good

and sensible men. You may trust your sentence to such who are as

respectable judges as any that have pored over ten thousand more

volumes.

P. S. I will look out the letter and the dates as soon as I go to

Strawberry Hill.

(968) On the celebrated quarrel between Hume and Rousseau,

D'Alembert, and the other literary friends of the former, met at

Paris, and were unanimous in advising him to publish the

particulars. This Hume at first refused, but determined to

collect them and for that purpose had written to Mr. Walpole

respecting the pretended letter from the King of Prussia.

(969) "Your friend Rousseau, I doubt, grows tired of Mr.

Davenport and Derbyshire: he has picked up a quarrel with David

Hume, and writes him letters of fourteen pages folio, upbraiding

him with all his noirceurs; take one only as a specimen. He says

that at Calais they chanced to sleep in the same room together,

and that he overheard David talking in his sleep, and saying,

'Ah! je le tiens, ce Jean Jacques l`a.' In short, I fear, for

want of persecution and admiration (for these are his real

complaints), be will go back to the Continent." Gray to Wharton;

Works, vol. iv. P. 82.-E.

Letter 312 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Arlington Street, Sept. 18, 1766. (page 487)

Dear sir,

I am exceedingly obliged to you for your very friendly letter,

and hurt at the absurdity of the newspapers that occasioned the

alarm. Sure I am not of consequence enough to be lied about! It

is true I am ill, have been extremely so, and have been ill long,

but with nothing like paralytic, as they have reported me. It

has been this long disorder alone that has prevented my profiting

of your company at Strawberry, according to the leave you gave me

of asking it. I have lived upon the road between that place and

this, never settled there, and uncertain whether I should go to

Bath or abroad. Yesterday se'nnight I grew exceedingly ill

indeed, with what they say has been the gout in my stomach,

bowels, back, and kidneys. The worst seems over, and I have been

to take the air to-day for the first time, but bore it so ill

that I don't know how soon I shall be able to set out for Bath,

whither they want me to go immediately. As that journey makes it

very uncertain when I shall be at Strawberry again, and as you

must want your cups and pastils, will you tell me if I can convey

them to you any way safely? Excuse my saying more to-day, as I

am so faint and weak; but it was impossible not to acknowledge

your kindness the first minute I was able. Adieu!

Letter 313 To George Montagu, Esq.

Strawberry Hill, Sept. 18, 1766. (page 488)

I am this moment come hither with Mr. Chute, who has showed me

your most kind and friendly letter, for which I give you a

thousand thanks. It did not surprise me, for you cannot alter.

I have been most extremely ill; indeed, never well since I saw

you. However, I think it is over, and that the gout is gone

without leaving a codicil in my foot. Weak I am to the greatest

degree, and no wonder. Such explosions make terrible havoc in a

body of paper. I shall go to the Bath in a few days. which they

tell me will make my quire of paper hold out a vast while! as to

that, I am neither credulous nor earnest. If it can keep me from

pain and preserve me the power of motion, I shall be content.

Mr. Chute, who has been good beyond measure, goes with me for a

few days. A thousand thanks and compliments to Mr. and Mrs.

Whetenhall and Mr. John, and excuse me writing more, as I am a

little fatigued with my little journey.

Letter 314 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.

Bath, Oct. 2, 1766. (page 488)

I arrived yesterday at noon, and bore my journey perfectly well,

except that I had the headache all yesterday; but it is gone

to-day, or at least made way for a little giddiness which the

water gave me this morning at first. If it does not do me good

very soon, I shall leave it; for I dislike the place exceedingly,

and am disappointed in it. Their new buildings that are so

admired, look like a collection of little hospitals; the rest is

detestable; and all crammed together, and surrounded with

perpendicular hills that have no beauty. The river is paltry

enough to be the Seine or Tiber. Oh! how unlike my lovely

Thames!

I met my Lord Chatham's coach yesterday full of such

Grenville-looking children, that I shall not go to see him this

day or two; and to-day I spoke to Lady Rockingham in the street.

My Lords Chancellor and President are here, and Lord and Lady

Powis. Lady Malpas arrived yesterday. I shall visit Miss Rich

to-morrow. In the next apartment to [nine lodges *****. I have

not seen him some years; and he is grown either mad or

superannuated, and talks without cessation or coherence: you

would think all the articles in a dictionary were prating

together at once. The Bedfords are expected this week. There

are forty thousand others that I neither know nor intend to know.

In short, it is living in a fair, and I am heartily sick of it

already. Adieu!

Letter 315 To George Montagu, Esq.

Bath, Oct. 5, 1766. (page 489)

Yes, thank you, I am quite well again; and if I had not a mind to

continue so, I would not remain here a day longer, for I am tired

to death of the place. I sit down by the waters of Babylon and

weep, when I think of thee, oh Strawberry! The elements

certainly agree with me, but I shun the gnomes and salamanders,

and have not once been at the rooms. Mr. Chute stays with me

till Tuesday; when he is gone, I do not know what I shall do; for

I cannot play at cribbage by myself, and the alternative is to

see my Lady Vane open the ball, and glimmer at fifty-four. All

my comfort is, that I lodge close to the cross bath, by which

means I avoid the pump-room and all its works. We go to dine and

see Bristol to-morrow, which will terminate our sights, for we

are afraid of your noble cousins at Badminton; and, as Mrs. Allen

is dead and Warburton entered upon the premises, you may swear we

shall not go thither.

Lord Chatham, the late and present Chancellors, and sundry more,

are here; and their graces of Bedford expected. I think I shall

make your Mrs. Trevor and Lady Lucy a visit; but it is such an

age since we met, that I suppose we shall not know one another by

sight. Adieu! These watering places, that mimic a capital, and

add vulgarisms and familiarities of their own, seem to me like

abigails in cast gowns, and I am not young enough to take up with

either. Yours ever.

Letter 316 To John Chute, Esq.

Bath, Oct. 10, 1766. (page 489)

I am impatient to hear that your charity to me has not ended in

the gout to yourself--all my comfort is, if you have it, that you

have good Lady Brown to nurse you.

My health advances faster than my amusement. However, I have

been at one opera, Mr. Wesley's.(970) They have boys and girls

with charming voices, that sing hymns, in parts, to Scotch ballad

tunes but indeed so long, that one would think they were already

in eternity, and knew how much time they had before them. The

chapel is very neat, with true Gothic windows (yet I am not

converted); but I was glad to see that luxury is creeping in upon

them before persecution: they have very neat mahogany stands for

branches, and brackets of the same in taste. At the upper end is

a broad hautpas of four steps, advancing in the middle: at each

end of the broadest part are two of my eagles, with red cushions

for the parson and clerk. Behind them rise three more steps, in

the midst of which is a third eagle for pulpit. Scarlet armed

chairs to all three. On either hand, a balcony for elect ladies.

The rest of the congregation sit on forms. Behind the pit, in a

dark niche, is a plain table within rails; so you see the throne

is for the apostle. Wesley is a lean elderly man,

fresh-coloured, his hair smoothly combed, but with a soup`con of

curls at the ends. Wondrous clean, but as evidently an actor as

Garrick. He spoke his sermon, but so fast, and with so little

accent, that I am sure he has often uttered it, for it was like a

lesson. There were parts and eloquence in it; but towards the

end he exalted his voice, and acted very ugly enthusiasm; decried

learning, and told stories, like Latimer, of the fool of his

college, who said, "I thanks God for every thing." Except a few

from curiosity, and some honourable women, the congregation was

very mean. There was a Scotch Countess Of Buchan,(971) who is

carrying a pure rosy vulgar face to heaven, and who asked Miss

Rich, if that was the author of the poets. I believe she meant

me and the Noble Authors.

The Bedfords came last night. Lord Chatham was with me yesterday

two hours; looks and walks well, and is in excellent political

spirits. Yours ever.

(970) The idea of adapting the psalms of the church to secular

tunes had been put in practice long before Wesley's day. The

celebrated Clement Marot wrote a number of psalms to sing to the

popular airs of his time, for the accommodation of the ladies of

the French court who were devoutly inclined; but he left it to

Wesley to assign as a reason for doing so, that there were no

just grounds for letting the devil have all the best tunes

himself.-E.

(971) Agnes, second daughter of Sir James Stewart of Goodtrees;

married, in January 1739, to Henry David, fifth Earl of Buchan.

She was the mother of the celebrated Lord Erskine.-E.

Letter 317 To George Montagu, Esq.

Bath, Oct. 18, 1766. (page 490)

Well, I went last night to see Lady Lucy and Mrs. Trevor, was let

in, and received with great kindness. I found them little

altered; Lady Lucy was much undressed, but looks better than when

I saw her last, and as well as one could expect; no shyness nor

singularity, but very easy and conversable. They have a very

pretty house, with two excellent rooms on a floor, and extremely

well furnished. You may be sure your name was much in request.

If I had not been engaged, I could have staved much longer with

satisfaction; and if I am doomed, as probably I shall be, to come

hither again, they would be a great resource to me; for I find

much more pleasure now in renewing old acquaintances than in

forming new.