STRAWBERRY HILL, _Oct._ 22, 1774.
Though I have been writing two letters, of four sides each, one of which
I enclose, I must answer your two last, if my fingers will move; and
talk to you on the contents of the enclosed.
If the Jesuits have precipitated the Pope's death,[1] as seems more than
probable, they have acted more by the spirit of their order, than by its
good sense. Great crimes may raise a growing cause, but seldom retard
the fall of a sinking one. This I take to be almost an infallible maxim.
Great crimes, too, provoke more than they terrify; and there is no
poisoning all that are provoked, and all that are terrified; who
alternately provoke and terrify each other, till common danger produces
common security. The Bourbon monarchs will be both angry and frightened,
the Cardinals frightened. It will be the interest of both not to revive
an order that bullies with arsenic in its sleeve. The poisoned host will
destroy the Jesuits, as well as the Pope: and perhaps the Church of Rome
will fall by a wafer, as it rose by it; for such an edifice will tumble
when once the crack has begun.
[Footnote 1: Pope Benedict XIV. had died in September; but there was not
any suspicion that his death had not been entirely natural.]
Our elections are almost over. Wilkes has taken possession of Middlesex
without an enemy appearing against him; and, being as puissant a monarch
as Henry the Eighth, and as little scrupulous, should, like him, date
his acts _From our Palace of Bridewell, in the tenth year of our reign_.
He has, however, met with a heroine to stem the tide of his conquests;
who, though not of Arc, nor a _pucelle_, is a true _Joan_ in spirit,
style, and manners. This is her Grace of Northumberland [Lady Elizabeth
Seymour], who has carried the mob of Westminster from him; sitting daily
in the midst of Covent Garden; and will elect her son [Earl Percy] and
Lord Thomas Clinton,[1] against Wilkes's two candidates, Lord Mahon[2]
and Lord Mountmorris. She puts me in mind of what Charles the Second
said of a foolish preacher, who was very popular in his parish: "I
suppose his nonsense suits their nonsense."
[Footnote 1: Second son of Henry, Duke of Newcastle.--WALPOLE.]
[Footnote 2: Only son of Earl Stanhope.--WALPOLE.]
Let me sweeten my letter by making you smile. A Quaker has been at
Versailles; and wanted to see the Comtes de Provence and D'Artois dine
in public, but would not submit to pull off his hat. The Princes were
told of it; and not only admitted him with his beaver on, but made him
sit down and dine with them. Was it not very sensible and good-humoured?
You and I know one who would not have been so gracious: I do not mean my
nephew Lord Cholmondeley.[1] Adieu! I am tired to death.
[Footnote 1: He means the Duke of Gloucester.--WALPOLE.]
P.S.--I have seen the Duchess of Beaufort; who sings your praises quite
in a tune I like. Her manner is much unpinioned to what it was, though
her person remains as stately as ever; and powder is vastly preferable
to those brown hairs, of whose preservation she was so fond. I am not so
struck with the beauty of Lady Mary[1] as I was three years ago. Your
nephew, Sir Horace, I see, by the papers, is come into Parliament: I am
glad of it. Is not he yet arrived at Florence?
[Footnote 1: Lady Mary Somerset, youngest daughter of Charles Noel, Duke
of Beaufort. She was afterwards married to the Duke of
Rutland.--WALPOLE.]
_BURKE'S ELECTION AT BRISTOL--RESEMBLANCE OF ONE HOUSE OF COMMONS TO
ANOTHER--COMFORT OF OLD AGE._