ARLINGTON STREET, _April_ 9, 1772.
It is uncommon for _me_ to send _you_ news of the Pretender. He has been
married in Paris by proxy, to a Princess of Stolberg. All that I can
learn of her is, that she is niece to a Princess of Salm, whom I knew
there, without knowing any more of her. The new Pretendress is said to
be but sixteen, and a Lutheran: I doubt the latter; if the former is
true, I suppose they mean to carry on the breed in the way it began, by
a spurious child. A Fitz-Pretender is an excellent continuation of the
patriarchal line. Mr. Chute says, when the Royal Family are prevented
from marrying,[1] it is a right time for the Stuarts to marry. This
event seems to explain the Pretender's disappearance last autumn; and
though they sent him back from Paris, they may not dislike the
propagation of thorns in our side.
[Footnote 1: In a previous letter Walpole mentions the enactment of the
Royal Marriage Act by a very narrow majority, after more than one
violent debate. It had been insisted on by the King, who was highly
indignant at his brothers, the Dukes of Gloucester and Cumberland,
having married two subjects. Singularly enough they were both widows,
Lady Waldegrave and Mrs. Horton. And this Act made the consent of the
sovereign indispensable to the marriage of any member of the Royal
Family except the descendants of princesses married to foreign princes.]
I hear the credit of the French Chancellor declines. He had strongly
taken up the clergy; and Soeur Louise,[1] the King's Carmelite daughter,
was the knot of the intrigue. The new Parliament has dared to
remonstrate against a declaration obtained by the Chancellor for setting
aside an _arrêt_ of 1762, occasioned by the excommunication of Parma.
The Spanish and Neapolitan Ministers interposed, and pronounced the
declaration an infringement of the family compact: the _arrêt_ of 1762
has been confirmed to satisfy them, and the Pope's authority, and
everything that comes from Rome, except what regards _the Penitential_,
(I do not know what that means,) restrained. This is supported by
d'Aiguillon and all the other Ministers, who are labouring the
reconciliation of the Princes of the Blood, that the Chancellor may not
have the honour of reconciling them. Perhaps the Princess of Stolberg
sprung out of my Sister Louise's cell. The King has demanded twelve
millions of the clergy: they consent to give ten. We shall see whether
Madame Louise, on her knees, or Madame du Barri will fight the better
fight. I should think the King's knees were more of an age for praying,
than for fighting.
[Footnote 1: The Soeur Louise was the youngest daughter of Louis XV.;
and, very different from her sisters, who were ill-tempered, political
intriguers. She, on the contrary, was deeply religious, and had, some
years before, taken the vows of the Carmelite order; and had fixed her
residence at the Convent of St. Denis, where she was more than once
visited by Marie Antoinette.]
The House of Commons is embarked on the ocean of Indian affairs, and
will probably make a long session. I went thither the other day to hear
Charles Fox, contrary to a resolution I had made of never setting my
foot there again. It is strange how disuse makes one awkward: I felt a
palpitation, as if I were going to speak there myself. The object
answered: Fox's abilities are amazing at so very early a period,
especially under the circumstances of such a dissolute life. He was just
arrived from Newmarket, had sat up drinking all night, and had not been
in bed. How such talents make one laugh at Tully's rules for an orator,
and his indefatigable application. His laboured orations are puerile in
comparison with this boy's manly reason. We beat Rome in eloquence and
extravagance; and Spain in avarice and cruelty; and, like both, we shall
only serve to terrify schoolboys, and for lessons of morality! "Here
stood St. Stephen's Chapel; here young Catiline spoke; here was Lord
Clive's diamond-house; this is Leadenhall Street, and this broken column
was part of the palace of a company of merchants[1] who were sovereigns
of Bengal! They starved millions in India by monopolies and plunder, and
almost raised a famine at home by the luxury occasioned by their
opulence, and by that opulence raising the price of everything, till
the poor could not purchase bread!" Conquest, usurpation, wealth,
luxury, famine--one knows how little farther the genealogy has to go. If
you like it better in Scripture phrase, here it is: Lord Chatham begot
the East India Company; the East India Company begot Lord Clive; Lord
Clive begot the Maccaronis, and they begot poverty; all the race are
still living; just as Clodius was born before the death of Julius
Caesar. There is nothing more like than two ages that are very like;
which is all that Rousseau means by saying, "give him an account of any
great metropolis, and he will foretell its fate." Adieu!
[Footnote 1: "_A company of merchants._" "A mighty prince held
domination over India; his name was Koompanee Jehan. Although this
monarch had innumerable magnificent palaces at Delhi and Agra, at
Benares, Boggleywallah, and Ahmednuggar, his common residence was in the
beautiful island of Ingleez, in the midst of the capital of which, the
famous city of Lundoon, Koompanee Jehan had a superb castle. It was
called the Hall of Lead, and stood at the foot of the mountain of Corn,
close by the verdure-covered banks of the silvery Tameez, where the
cypresses wave, and zendewans, or nightingales, love to sing"
(Thackeray, "Life of Sir C. Napier," iv. p. 158).]
_AN ANSWER TO HIS "HISTORIC DOUBTS"--HIS EDITION OF GRAMMONT._