ARLINGTON STREET, _March_ 11, 1750.
Portents and prodigies are grown so frequent,
That they have lost their name.
My text is not literally true; but as far as earthquakes go towards
lowering the price of wonderful commodities, to be sure we are
overstocked. We have had a second, much more violent than the first; and
you must not be surprised if by next post you hear of a burning mountain
sprung up in Smithfield. In the night between Wednesday and Thursday
last (exactly a month since the first shock), the earth had a shivering
fit between one and two; but so slight that, if no more had followed, I
don't believe it would have been noticed. I had been awake, and had
scarce dozed again--on a sudden I felt my bolster lift up my head; I
thought somebody was getting from under my bed, but soon found it was a
strong earthquake, that lasted near half a minute, with a violent
vibration and great roaring. I rang my bell; my servant came in,
frightened out of his senses: in an instant we heard all the windows in
the neighbourhood flung up. I got up and found people running into the
streets, but saw no mischief done: there has been some; two old houses
flung down, several chimneys, and much chinaware. The bells rung in
several houses. Admiral Knowles, who has lived long in Jamaica, and felt
seven there, says this was more violent than any of them: Francesco
prefers it to the dreadful one at Leghorn. The wise say,[1] that if we
have not rain soon, we shall certainly have more. Several people are
going out of town, for it has nowhere reached above ten miles from
London: they say, they are not frightened, but that it is such fine
weather, "Lord! one can't help going into the country!" The only visible
effect it has had, was on the Ridotto, at which, being the following
night, there were but four hundred people. A parson, who came into
White's the morning of earthquake the first, and heard bets laid on
whether it was an earthquake or the blowing up of powder mills, went
away exceedingly scandalized, and said, "I protest, they are such an
impious set of people, that I believe if the last trumpet was to sound,
they would bet puppet-show against Judgment." If we get any nearer
still to the torrid zone, I shall pique myself on sending you a present
of cedrati and orange-flower water: I am already planning a _terreno_
for Strawberry Hill.
[Footnote 1: In an earlier letter Walpole mentions that Sir I. Newton
had foretold a great alteration in the English climate in 1750.]
The Middlesex election is carried against the Court: the Prince, in a
green frock (and I won't swear, but in a Scotch plaid waistcoat), sat
under the Park-wall in his chair, and hallooed the voters on to
Brentford. The Jacobites are so transported, that they are opening
subscriptions for all boroughs that shall be vacant--this is wise! They
will spend their money to carry a few more seats in a Parliament where
they will never have the majority, and so have none to carry the general
elections. The omen, however, is bad for Westminster; the High Bailiff
went to vote for the Opposition.
I now jump to another topic; I find all this letter will be detached
scraps; I can't at all contrive to hide the seams: but I don't care. I
began my letter merely to tell you of the earthquake, and I don't pique
myself upon doing any more than telling you what you would be glad to
have told you. I told you too how pleased I was with the triumphs of
another old beauty, our friend the Princess. Do you know, I have found a
history that has great resemblance to hers; that is, that will be very
like hers, if hers is but like it. I will tell it you in as few words as
I can. Madame la Maréchale l'Hôpital was the daughter of a seamstress; a
young gentleman fell in love with her, and was going to be married to
her, but the match was broken off. An old fermier-general, who had
retired into the province where this happened, hearing the story, had a
curiosity to see the victim; he liked her, married her, died, and left
her enough not to care for her inconstant. She came to Paris, where the
Maréchal de l'Hôpital married her for her riches. After the Maréchal's
death, Casimir, the abdicated King of Poland, who was retired into
France, fell in love with the Maréchale, and privately married her. If
the event ever happens, I shall certainly travel to Nancy, to hear her
talk of _ma belle fille la Reine de France_. What pains my Lady Pomfret
would take to prove that an abdicated King's wife did not take place of
an English countess; and how the Princess herself would grow still
fonder of the Pretender for the similitude of his fortune with that of
_le Roi mon mari_! Her daughter, Mirepoix, was frightened the other
night, with Mrs. Nugent's calling out, _un voleur! un voleur_! The
ambassadress had heard so much of robbing, that she did not doubt but
_dans ce pais cy_, they robbed in the middle of an assembly. It turned
out to be a _thief in the candle_! Good night!
GENERAL PANIC--SHERLOCK'S PASTORAL LETTER--PREDICTIONS OF MORE
EARTHQUAKES--A GENERAL FLIGHT FROM LONDON--EPIGRAMS BY CHUTE AND WALPOLE
HIMSELF--FRENCH TRANSLATION OF MILTON.