their prince, if he is bound by no reciprocal ties? If they are his
chattels, his herd, his property, oaths are frivolous. He has power to
punish them, if they revolt, whether they are sworn to him or not. To
swear a king without reciprocity from him, is subjecting our souls to
him, as well as our bodies. We are to be damned to all eternity, if he
makes his tyranny intolerable. Proclaim him God at once: God alone can
be trusted with power over our minds: God alone can judge how much we
can endure. The blindest bigot to the memory of Charles I. or James II.
cannot deny that both were the original aggressors. Had they both acted
conformably to the constitution and laws, no man living can think that
any part of the nation would have revolted.”—_Life of Mr. Thomas Baker,
by Horace Walpole._
[65] The following little anecdote is extremely illustrative of the tenor
of the _tête-à-tête_ conversations of the father and son, during the last
two years that they spent together at Houghton. “In one of those summers,
I forget which, desirous of amusing him, which his ill health required, I
promised to read to him. He said, ‘What will you read?’ I answered, as a
young man would to a statesman, ‘History, Sir.’ ‘No, child,’ said he, ‘I
know that cannot be true.’”—_Detection of a late Forgery, by H. Walpole._
[66] See also his sermon on painting, preached at Houghton, and the
picturesque descriptions in his own letters, whilst on his travels
in Italy. The following is quite a Salvator:—“But the road west, the
road! winding round a prodigious mountain, and surrounded by others,
all shagged with hanging woods, obscured with pines, or lost in clouds!
Below, a torrent, breaking through cliffs, and tumbling through fragments
of rocks! Sheets of cascades, forcing their silver speed down channelled
precipices, and hasting into the roughened river at the bottom! Now and
then an old foot-bridge, with a broken rail, a leaning cross, a cottage,
or the ruin of an hermitage.”—_Correspondence of Horace Walpole._
[67] See his letters to Mr. Pitt, Lord Chatham.
[68] “Pope has made a subterranean grotto, which he has furnished with
looking-glasses.”—_Lady M. W. Montagu._
[69] See his most amusing description of Hardwicke:—“The next is her
(Mary Queen of Scots) dressing-room, hung with patch-work on black
velvet. Then her state bed-chamber. The bed has been rich beyond
description, and now hangs in costly golden tatters. The hangings, part
of which they say her Majesty worked, are composed of figures, large
as life, sewed and embroidered on black velvet, white satin, &c., and
represent the virtues that were necessary for her, or that she was forced
to have, as Patience and Temperance, &c. The fire-screens are particular:
pieces of yellow velvet, fringed with gold, hang on a cross bar of wood,
which is fixed on the top of a single stick that rises from the foot.
The only furniture which has any appearance of taste are the table and
cabinets, which are all of oak, richly carved. There is a private chamber
within, where she lay, her arms and style over the door. The arras hangs
over all the doors. The gallery is sixty yards long, covered with bad
tapestry, and wretched pictures of Mary herself, Elizabeth in a gown of
sea-monsters,” &c. &c.—_Correspondence of Horace Walpole._
[70] “As I returned, I saw Newstead and Althorpe: the former is the very
abbey. The great east window of the church remains, and connects with the
house; the hall entire, the refectory entire, the cloister untouched,
with the ancient cistern of the convent, and their arms on it; a private
chapel, quite perfect.”—_Ibid._
[71] He took the idea of the picture walking out of its frame in the
“Castle of Otranto,” from his own picture of Lord Falkland.
[72] Lady Stafford. “Madame de Mirepoix told me t’other day, that she
had known a daughter of the Countess of Grammont, an abbess in Lorrain,
who, to the ambassadress’s great scandal, was ten times more vain of the
blood of Hamilton than of an equal quantity of that of Grammont. She had
told her much of her sister, my Lady Stafford, whom I remember to have
seen when I was a child. She used to live at Twickenham when my Lady Mary
Wortley, and the Duke of Wharton lived there; she had more wit than both
of them.”—_Correspondence of Horace Walpole._
[73] June 20th, 1825.
[74] “Yesterday I gave a great breakfast at Strawberry Hill to the
Bedford court. There was the Duke and Duchess, Lord Tavistock and Lady
Caroline, my Lord and Lady Gower, Lady Caroline Egerton, &c. &c. The
first thing I asked Harry was, ‘Does the sun shine?’”—_Correspondence of
H. Walpole._
[75] The order, elegance, and neatness in which Strawberry Hill is kept,
in the absence of its present noble owner, is only too perfect for
antiquarian illusions. A little touch of the dreariness and desolation
of an Irish absentee’s “place,” would leave nothing to lament on that
subject; and the _virtuoso_ visitor might then sing, with the poet of
slovenly beauty, “Such sweet neglect most pleaseth me.”
[76] “In the gallery, I found myself quite at home, and surprised the
housekeeper with my familiarity with the portraits.”—_Correspondence of
Horace Walpole._
[77] When Walpole visited Hinchinbrook, in the middle of the last
century, he found the garden wondrous small, the park almost smaller, and
no appearance of territory.
[78] The first stanza of this ode is written on the vase:
“’Twas on this lofty vase’s side,” &c.
[79] Colley Cibber gave this bust to Mrs. Clive, Lord Orford’s fair
friend—another equivocal Stella.
[80] A phrase of Horace Walpole.
[81] Among these, and far superior to them all in grace and loveliness,
is the picture, by Sir J. Reynolds, of Maria, second daughter of Sir
Edward Walpole, widow of James Earl of Waldegrave, and wife of William
Henry, Duke of Gloucester, brother of King George the Third. Walpole’s
own portrait of this favourite niece, on her wedding-day, (in a letter to
his friend G. Montague,) is equally lovely.
[82] I have mentioned this fine picture in the catalogue of Salvator
Rosa’s works now in England. But I had not then seen it; nor was I then
aware how enthusiastic an admirer of Salvator Lord Orford was, until
I recently read his admirable introduction to the “Ædes Walpolianæ.”
In the passage I allude to, he observes,—“The greatest genius Naples
ever produced resided generally at Rome—a genius equal to any that city
itself ever bore. This was the great Salvator Rosa! His thoughts, his
expression, his landscape, his knowledge of the force of shade, and
his masterly management of horror and distress, have placed him in the
first class of painters. In Lord Townsend’s ‘Belisarius’ one sees a
majesty of thought equal to Raphael, an expression great as Poussin’s.
In Lord Orford’s ‘Prodigal’ is represented the extremity of misery and
low nature, not foul and burlesque, like Michel Angelo Caravaggio’s, nor
minute, circumstantial, and laborious, like the Dutch painters. Salvator
Rosa was a poet and a satirist. Here again was a union of those arts: his
pictures contain the genius and true end of satire, though, heightened
and expressive as his pictures are, they still mean more than they
speak. Pliny describes Salvator in ‘Timanthes:’—In omnibus ejus operibus
intelligitur plus semper quam pingitur,” &c.
[83] One of the most beautiful and tender pieces of epistolary
reminiscences that ever was written, is Horace Walpole’s letter, dated
from Houghton, 1761, after fifteen years’ absence, and beginning, “Here I
am at Houghton—alone,” &c.—_Correspondence_, vol. ii. p. 226.
[84] In no other collection is to be seen in any good preservation any
number of the works of Isaac and Peter Oliver. I forget whether Raphael’s
exquisite missal, with its unique miniatures, is in this cabinet or in
the library.
Among the curious enamels is one of Charles the Second. It is in an old
enamelled blue case, and is said to be one which he gave when in Holland
to a young lady, to whom he stood godfather. In her extreme old age she
sold it. There is another fine miniature of James the Second, when Duke
of York, which is remarkable as being purchased at the sale of Mrs.
Danet, daughter to his handsome bold-looking mistress, Mrs. Godfrey, of
whom there is also a miniature by Petitot. The most interesting among
the historical miniatures of this fine collection are, the clever Queen
of Bohemia, the most gifted of all the Stuarts; Charles the First, by
Petitot; Robert Cecil, Earl of Salisbury, by Isaac Oliver; and Sir
Anthony Shirley, in a dress half English, half Persian, done when he was
ambassador from the Sophy of Persia.
[85] Among these the most striking are the Temptation of St. Anthony, by
Teniers. Soldiers at Cards, by Vandyke. His own Head, by Himself and a
portrait of Frances Howard, the celebrated Countess of Essex, by Isaac
Oliver.
[86] See a description of this piece in “The Anecdotes of Painting.”
[87] Among these is Miss Fenton (afterwards Duchess of Bolton) as Polly.
[88] It is of this picture that Walpole says, “You see Ninon tries to
look charming, and she only looks tipsy.” The tradition of this picture
is, that Ninon herself gave it to Lady Sandwich, daughter of Wilmot, Earl
of Rochester; her grandson (Miss Rae’s Lord Sandwich,) gave it to Horace
Walpole.
[89] I really forget in what order of seeing we visited a handsome
modernly-furnished saloon, in which the most interesting object is a
fine, full-length and very beautiful portrait of the present noble lady
of the castle, the Countess of Waldegrave. I think our cicerone told us
it was by Sir William Beechey. Both as a portrait and a painting, it may
stand the test with any of the Lely and Kneller beauties in the adjoining
rooms.
[90] “Strawberry Hill is grown a perfect Paphos—it is the land of
beauties. On Wednesday the Duchesses of Hamilton and Richmond, and Lady
Ailesbury, dined there, and the two latter stayed all night. There never
was so pretty a sight as to see them all three sitting in the shell. A
thousand years hence, when I begin to grow old, if that can ever be, I
shall talk of that event, and tell young people how much handsomer the
women of my time were, than they will be then. I shall say, Women alter
now; I remember Lady Ailesbury looking handsomer than her daughter, the
Duchess of Richmond, as they were sitting in the shell on my terrace with
the Duchess of Hamilton, one of the famous Gunnings! Yesterday, t’other
more famous Gunning, Lady Coventry, dined there!” _Correspondence of
Horace Walpole_, vol. ii.
[91] The arts are now making a struggling effort in Ireland, where
there is no want of genius, though great want of all means of rendering
it available. The commodity is there; but where is the market? Two
young artists of distinguished merit, the pupils of the school of
sculpture in the Dublin Institution, are now I believe studying with
their distinguished countryman Behnes, and have produced two original
compositions of considerable talent. Their names are Panormo and
Gallagher. Of the young artists, with whom I am personally acquainted,
Mr. Lover, as a miniature painter, and Mr. Mulrennan, as a faithful and
exquisite copyist of the old masters, only want a fair field, both of
study and encouragement, to become distinguished in the art to which
they are devoted. But though Ireland has given birth to some of the
most eminent artists of the British school, to Jarvis, Bindon, Roberts,
Robertson, Hamilton, Barret, Shea, Barry, Ashworth, Comerford, Smith,
Kirk, &c. &c., still it can never be the country of the arts. It may
produce artists for other markets; it will never have a mart of its
own. In the present state of the country, I would rather bind my son
apprentice to the meanest mechanical trade, than see him devote his
time, talent, and energy, to the arts in the service of a nation, where
excellence can only tend to generate disappointed ambition and indignant
and ineffectual regret.
[92] Their Graces the Duke and Duchess of Northumberland, though in the
noviciate of their Irish Regency, had the condescension to appear, this
day (March 17th, 1829) at the windows of the state apartments of the
castle, with large shamrocks decorating their persons; while hundreds of
the common people danced in the court beneath, to the enlivening air of
Patrick’s Day, played by the band of the guard.
“Chi ben principia ha il mezzo del opra.”
[93] This is the only occasion on which country dances are performed
at the Irish Court. The ball on Patrick’s night is always opened by
the lively dance of “Patrick’s day.” The Dowagers of both sexes then
come into play; and the “_Irish trot_” of many a veteran belle, recals
the good old times of the Rutland Court; when French quadrilles were
“undreamed of in the philosophy” of the dancing of that noted epoch.
WORKS OF LADY MORGAN.
1. THE O’BRIENS and the O’FLAHERTYS; a National Tale. In 4 vols. post 8vo.
“Lady Morgan has on this occasion excelled herself, and has
furnished the admirers of historical romance with a high and
extraordinary treat.”—Literary Chronicle.
2. FLORENCE MACARTHY. Third Edition. In 4 vols. 12mo. 28s.
3. O’DONNEL; a National Tale. In 3 vols. 21s. Third Edition.
4. ITALY. Being the Substance of a Journal of her Residence in that
Country; exhibiting a view of the present State of Society and Manners,
Arts, Literature, and Literary Institutions; interspersed with numerous
Anecdotes of the most eminent Literary and Political Characters, &c. A
new edition, revised. In 3 vols. 8vo. 36s. boards.
“This is not merely a work of opinions, expressed in the
ornamental style of the writer. It is a substantial account of
Italy, and may be consulted for its facts by the historian, the
traveller, and the topographer.”—Monthly Magazine.
5. THE LIFE and TIMES of SALVATOR ROSA, with Extracts from his
Correspondence. In 2 vols. 8vo. with a fine Portrait of Salvator, from
the Original Painting by Himself, in the possession of Earl Grosvenor,
price 28s.
“Lady Morgan has produced two of the most amusing octavos
we have met with, even in this biographical age.”—Edinburgh
Magazine.
6. ABSENTEEISM. 1 vol. post 8vo. 6s. 6d.
LONDON:
SHACKELL AND BAYLIS, JOHNSON’S-COURT, FLEET-STREET.