ARLINGTON STREET, _June_ 18, 1751.
I send my letter as usual from the Secretary's office, but of what
Secretary I don't know. Lord Sandwich last week received his dismission,
on which the Duke of Bedford resigned the next day, and Lord Trentham
with him, both breaking with old Gower, who is entirely in the hands of
the Pelhams, and made to declare his quarrel with Lord Sandwich (who
gave away his daughter to Colonel Waldegrave) the foundation of
detaching himself from the Bedfords. Your friend Lord Fane comforts Lord
Sandwich with an annuity of a thousand a-year--scarcely for his handsome
behaviour to his sister; Lord Hartington is to be Master of the Horse,
and Lord Albemarle Groom of the Stole; Lord Granville[1] is actually
Lord President, and, by all outward and visible signs, something
more--in short, if he don't overshoot himself, the Pelhams have; the
King's favour to him is visible, and so much credited, that all the
incense is offered to him. It is believed that Impresario Holdernesse
will succeed the Bedford in the foreign seals, and Lord Halifax in
those for the plantations. If the former does, you will have ample
instructions to negotiate for singers and dancers! Here is an epigram
made upon his directorship:
[Footnote 1: Lord Granville, known as Lord Carteret during the lifetime
of his mother, was a statesman of the very highest ability, and was
regarded with special favour by the King for his power of conversing in
German, then a very rare accomplishment.]
That secrecy will now prevail
In politics, is certain;
Since Holdernesse, who gets the seals,
Was bred behind the curtain.
The Admirals Rowley and Boscawen are brought into the Admiralty under
Lord Anson, who is advanced to the head of the board. Seamen are
tractable fishes! especially it will be Boscawen's case, whose name in
Cornish signifies obstinacy, and who brings along with him a good
quantity of resentment to Anson. In short, the whole present system is
equally formed for duration!
Since I began my letter, Lord Holdernesse has kissed hands for the
seals. It is said that Lord Halifax is to be made easy, by the
plantations being put under the Board of Trade. Lord Granville comes
into power as boisterously as ever, and dashes at everything. His
lieutenants already beat up for volunteers; but he disclaims all
connexions with Lord Bath, who, he says, forced him upon the famous
ministry of twenty-four hours, and by which he says he paid all his
debts to him. This will soon grow a turbulent scene--it is not
unpleasant to sit upon the beach and see it; but few people have the
curiosity to step out to the sight. You, who knew England in other
times, will find it difficult, to conceive what an indifference reigns
with regard to ministers and their squabbles. The two Miss Gunnings,[1]
and a late extravagant dinner at White's, are twenty times more the
subject of conversation than the two brothers [Newcastle and Pelham] and
Lord Granville. These are two Irish girls, of no fortune, who are
declared the handsomest women alive. I think their being two so handsome
and both such perfect figures is their chief excellence, for singly I
have seen much handsomer women than either; however, they can't walk in
the park or go to Vauxhall, but such mobs follow them that they are
generally driven away. The dinner was a folly of seven young men, who
bespoke it to the utmost extent of expense: one article was a tart made
of duke cherries from a hot-house; and another, that they tasted but one
glass out of each bottle of champagne. The bill of fare is got into
print, and with good people has produced the apprehension of another
earthquake. Your friend St. Leger was at the head of these luxurious
heroes--he is the hero of all fashion. I never saw more dashing vivacity
and absurdity, with some flashes of parts. He had a cause the other day
for ducking a sharper, and was going to swear: the judge said to him, "I
see, Sir, you are very ready to take an oath." "Yes, my lord," replied
St. Leger, "my father was a judge."
[Footnote 1: One of the Miss Gunnings had singular fortune. She was
married to two Dukes--the Duke of Hamilton, and, after his death, the
Duke of Argyll. She refused a third, the Duke of Bridgewater; and she
was the mother of four--two Dukes of Hamilton and two Dukes of Argyll.
Her sister married the Earl of Coventry. In his "Memoirs of George III."
Walpole mentions that they were so poor while in Dublin that they could
not have been presented to the Lord-Lieutenant if Peg Woffington, the
celebrated actress, had not lent them some clothes.]
We have been overwhelmed with lamentable Cambridge and Oxford dirges on
the Prince's death: there is but one tolerable copy; it is by a young
Lord Stormont, a nephew of Murray, who is much commended. You may
imagine what incense is offered to Stone by the people of Christchurch:
they have hooked in, too, poor Lord Harcourt, and call him _Harcourt the
Wise_! his wisdom has already disgusted the young Prince; "Sir, pray
hold up your head. Sir, for God's sake, turn out your toes!" Such are
Mentor's precepts!
I am glad you receive my letters; as I knew I had been punctual, it
mortified me that you should think me remiss. Thank you for the
transcript from _Bubb[1] de tristibus_! I will keep your secret, though
I am persuaded that a man who had composed such a funeral oration on his
master and himself fully intended that its flowers should not bloom and
wither in obscurity.
[Footnote 1: Bubb means Mr. Bubb Doddington, afterwards Lord Melcombe,
who had written Mr. Mann a letter of most extravagant lamentation on the
death of the Prince of Wales. He was member for Winchelsea, and left
behind him a diary, which was published some years after his death, and
which throws a good deal of light on the political intrigues of the
day.]
We have already begun to sell the pictures that had not found place at
Houghton: the sale gives no great encouragement to proceed (though I
fear it must come to that!); the large pictures were thrown away; the
whole-length Vandykes went for a song! I am mortified now at having
printed the catalogue. Gideon the Jew, and Blakiston the independent
grocer, have been the chief purchasers of the pictures sold
already--there, if you love moralizing!
Adieu! I have no more articles to-day for my literary gazette.
_DESCRIPTION OF STRAWBERRY HILL--BILL TO PREVENT CLANDESTINE MARRIAGES._