where he remained until about 1734. He was the contemporary, if not the rival of Farinelli; and Mr. Hogarth, in his “Memoirs of the Musical Drama,” (i. 431,) tells us, that when Senesino and Farinelli were in England together, they had not for some time the opportunity of hearing each other, in consequence of their engagements at different theatres. At last, however, they were both engaged to sing on the same stage. Senesino had the part of a furious tyrant, and Farinelli the part of an unfortunate hero in chains; but, in the course of the first act, the captive so softened the heart of the tyrant, that Senesino, forgetting his stage character, ran to Farinelli, and embraced him in his own.-E.
(186) He means the name of Walpole at Rome, where the Pretender and many of his adherents then resided.
148 letter 20
To Richard West, Esq.
Rome, April 16th, 1740, N. S.
I’ll tell you, West, because one is amongst new things, you think one can always write new things. When I first came abroad, every thing struck me, and I wrote its history: but now I am grown so used to be surprised, that I don’t perceive any flutter in myself when I meet with any novelties; curiosity and astonishment wear off, and the next thing is, to fancy that other people nnow as much of places as One’s Self; or, at least, one does not remember that they do not. It appears to me as odd to write to you of St. Peter’s, as it would do to you to write of Westminster Abbey. Besides, as one looks at churches, etc. with a book of travels in one’s hand, and sees every thing particularized there, it would appear transcribing, to write upon the same subjects. I know you will hate me for this declaration; I remember how ill I used to take it when any body served me so that was travelling. Well, I will tell you something, if you will love me: You have seen prints of the ruins of the temple of Minerva Medica; you shall only hear its situation, and then figure what a villa might be laid out there. ‘Tis in the middle of a garden: at a little distance are two subterraneous grottos, which were the burial-places of the liberti of Augustus. There are all the niches and covers of the urns and the inscriptions remaining; and in one, very considerable remains of an ancient stucco Ceiling with paintings in grotesque. Some of the walks would terminate upon the Castellum Aquae Martioe, St. John Lateran, and St. Maria Maggiore, besides other churches; the walls of the garden would be two
aqueducts. and the entrance through one of the old gates of Rome. This glorious spot is neglected, and only serves for a small vineyard and kitchen-garden.
I am very glad that I see Rome while it yet exists: before a great number of years are elapsed, I question whether it will be worth seeing. Between the ignorance and poverty of the present Romans, every thing is neglected and falling to decay; the villas are entirely out of repair, and the palaces so ill kept, that half the pictures are spoiled by damp. At the villa Ludovisi is a large oracular head of red marble, colossal, and with vast foramina for the eyes and mouth: the man that showed the palace said it was un ritratto della famiglia? The Cardinal Corsini has
so thoroughly pushed on the misery of Rome by impoverishing it, that there is no money but paper to be seen. He is reckoned to have amassed three millions of crowns. You may judge of’ the affluence the nobility live in, when I assure you, that what the chief princes allow for their own eating is a testoon a day; eighteen pence: there are some extend their expense to five pauls, or half a crown: Cardinal Albani is called extravagant for laying out ten pauls for his dinner and supper. You may imagine they never have any entertainments: so far from it, they never have any company. The princesses and duchesses particularly lead the dismallest of lives.
Being the posterity of popes, though of worse families than the ancient nobility, they expect greater
respect than my ladies the countesses and marquises will pay them; consequently they consort not, but mope in a vast palace with two mniserable tapers, and two or three monsignori, whom they are forced to court and humour, that they may not be entirely deserted. Sundays they do issue forth in a most unwieldy coach to the Corso.
In short ‘child, after sunset one passes one’s time here very ill; and if I did not wish for you in the mornings, it would be no compliment to tell you that I do in the evening. Lord! how many English I could change for you, and yet buy you wondrous cheap! And, then French and Germans I could fling into the bargain by dozens. Nations swarm here. You will have a great fat French cardinal garnished with thirty abb`es roll into the area of St. Peter’s, gape, turn short, and talk of the chapel of Versailles. I heard one of them say t’other day, he had been at the Capitale. One asked of course how he liked it-.Oh! il y a assez de belles choses.
Tell Ashton I have received his letter, and will write next post but I am in a violent hurry and have no more time; so Gray finishes this delicately.
NOT so delicate; nor indeed would his conscience suffer him to write to you, till he received de vos nouvelles, if he had not the tail of another person’s letter to use by way of evasion. I sha’n’t describe, as being in the only place in the world that deserves it which may seem an odd reason-but they say as how it’s fulsome, and every body does it (and I suppose every body says the same thing); else I should tell’you a vast deal about the Coliseum, and the Conclave, and the Capitol, and these matters. A-propos du Colis`ee, if you don’t know what it is, the Prince Borghese will be very capable of giving you some account of it, who told an Englishman that asked what it was built for: “They say ’twas for Christians to fight with tigers in.” We are just come from adoring a great piece of the true cross, St. Longinus’s spear, and St. Veronica’s handkerchief; all of which have been this evening exposed to view in St. Peter’s. In the same place, and on the same occasion last night, Walpole saw a poor creature naked to the waist discipline himself with a scourge filled with iron prickles, till he made hii-nself a raw doublet, that he took for red satin torn, and showing the skin through. I should tell you, that he fainted away three times at the sight, and I twice
and a half at the repetition of it. All this is performed by the light of a vast fiery cross, composed of hundreds of little crystal latmps, which appears through the great altar under the grand tribuna, as if hanging by itself in the air. All the confraternities of the city resort thither in solemn procession, habited in linen frocks, girt with a cord, and their heads covered with a cowl all over, that has only two holes before to see through. Some of these are all black, others parti-coloured and white: and with these masqueraders that vast church is filled, who are seen thumping their breasts, and kissing the pavement with extreme devotion. But methinks I am describing:-’tis an ill habit; but this, like every thing else will wear off We have sent you our compliments by a friend of yours, and correspondent in a corner, who seems a very agreeable man; one Mr. Williams; I am sorry he staid so little a while in Rome. I forget Porto-Bello (187) all this while; pray let us know where it is, and whether you or Ashton had any hand in the taking of’it. Duty to the admiral. Adieu! Ever yours,
T. GRAY.
(187) Porto-Bello, taken from the Spaniards by Admiral Vernon, with six ships only, On the 21st Nov. 1740. By the articles of the capitulation, the town was not to be plundered, nor the inhabitants molested in the smallest degree; and the governor and inhabitants expressed themselves in the highest terms, when speaking of the humanity and generosity with which they had been treated by the admiral and the officers of the squadron under his command.-E.
150 Letter 21
To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Rome, April, 23, 1740, N. S.
As I have wrote you two such long letters lately, my dear Hal, I did not hurry myself to answer your last; but choose to write to poor SelWyn (188) Upon his illness. I pity you excessively upon finding him in such a situation- what a shock it must have been to you! He deserves so much love from all that know him, and you owe him so much friendship, that I can scarce conceive a greater shock. I am very glad you did not write to me till he was out of danger; for this great distance would have added to my pain, as I must have waited so long for another letter. I charge you, don’t let him relapse into balls: he does not love them, and, if you please, your example may keep him out of them. You are extremely pretty people to be dancing and trading with French poulterers and pastry cooks, when a hard frost is starving half the nation, and the Spanish war ought to be employing the other half. We are much more public spirited here; we live upon the public news, and triumph abundantly upon the taking Porto-Bello. If you are not entirely debauched with your balls, you must be pleased with an answer of Lord Harrington’s (189) to the governor of Rome. He asked him what they had determined about the vessel that the Spaniards took under the canon of Civita Vecchia, whether they had restored it to the English? The governor said, they had done justice. My lord replied, “If you had not, we should have’ done it ourselves.” Pray reverence our spirit, Lieutenant Hal.
Sir, MoscovitEO (190) is not a pretty woman, and she does sing ill; that’s all.
My dear Harry, I must now tell you a little about myself, and answer your questions. How I like the inanimate part of Rome you will soon perceive at my arrival in England; I am far gone in medals, lamps, idols, prints, etc.” and all the small commodities to the purchase of which I can attain; I would buy the Coliseum if I could: Judge. My mornings are spent in the most agreeable manner; my evenings ill enough. Roman conversations are dreadful things! such untoward
mawkins as the princesses! and the princes are worse. Then the whole city is littered with French and German abb`es, who make up a dismal contrast with the inhabitants. The conclave is far from enlivening us; its secrets don’t transpire. I could give you names of this cardinal and that, that are talked of, but each is contradicted the next hour. I was there t’other day to visit one of them, and one of the most agreeable, Alexander Albani. I had the
opportunity of two cardinals making their entry: upon that occasion the gate is unlocked, and their eminences come to talk to their acquaintance over the threshold. I have received great civilities from him I named to you, and I wish he were out, that I might receive greater: a friend of his does the honours of Rome for him; but you know that it is unpleasant to visit by proxy. Cardinal Delei, the object of the Corsini faction, is dying; the hot weather will probably despatch half a dozen more. Not that it is hot yet; I am now writing to you by my fireside.
Harry, you saw Lord Deskfoord (191) at Geneva; don’t you like him? He is a mighty sensible man. There are few young people have so good understandings. He is mighty grave, and so are you; but you can both be pleasant when you have a mind. Indeed, one can make you pleasant, but his solemn Scotchery is a little formidable: before you 1 can play the fool from morning to night, courageously. Good night. I have other letters to write, and must finish this. Yours ever.
(188) John Selwyn, elder brother of George Augustus Selwyn. He died about 1750.
(189)William Marquis of Hartington. He succeeded his father as fourth Duke of Devonshire in 1755.-E.
(190) Notwithstanding she laboured under such disadvantages-and want of beauty and want of talent are serious ones to a cantatrice,-it will be seen from Walpole’s letter to Mann, 5th Nov. 1741, that the Moscovita, on her arrival here, received six hundred guineas for the season, instead of four hundred, the salary previously given to the , second woman;” and became, moreover, the mistress of Lord Middlesex, the director of the opera.-E.
(191) Son of the Earl of Findlater and Seafield, who succeeded his father in 1764, and died in 1770.-E.
152 Letter 22
To Richard West, Esq.
Rome, May 7, 1740, N. S.
Dear West,
‘Twould be quite rude and unpardonable in one not to wish you joy upon the great conquests that you are all committing all over the world. We heard the news last night from Naples, that Admiral Haddock (192) had met the Spanish convoy going to Majorca, and taken it all, all; three thousand men, three colonels, and a Spanish grandee. We conclude it is true, for the Neapolitan Majesty mentioned it at dinner. We are going thither in about a week, to wish him joy of it too. ‘Tis with some apprehensions we go too, of having a pope chosen in the interim: that would be cruel, you know. But, thank our stars, there is no great probability of it. ‘ Feuds and contentions run high among the eminences. A notable one happened this week. Cardinal Zinzendorff and two more had given their votes for the general of the Capucins: he is of the Barberini
family, not a cardinal, but a worthy man. Not effecting any thing, Zinzendorff voted for Coscia, and declared it publicly. Cardinal Petra reproved him; but the German replied, he thought Coscia as fit to be pope as any of them. It seems, his pique to the whole body is, their having denied a daily admission of a pig into the conclave for
his eminence’s use who, being much troubled with the gout, was ordered by his mother to bathe his leg in pig’s blood every morning.
Who should have a vote t other day but the Cardinalino of Toledo! Were he older, the Queen of Spain might possibly procure more than one for him, though scarcely enough.
Well, but we won’t talk Politics: shall we talk antiquities? Gray and I discovered a considerable curiosity lately. In an unfrequented quarter of the Colonna garden lie two immense fragments of marble, formerly part of a frieze to some building; ’tis not known of what. They are of Parian marble: which may give one some idea of the magnificence of the rest of the building for these pieces were at the very top. Upon inquiry, we were told they had been measured by an architect, who declared they were larger than any member of St. Peter’s. The length of one of the pieces is above sixteen feet. They were formerly sold to a stonecutter for five thousand crowns, but Clement XI. would not permit them to be sawed, annulled the bargain, and laid a penalty of twelve thousand crowns upon the family if they parted with them. I think it was a right judged thing. Is it not amazing, that so vast a structure should not be known of, or that it should be so entirely destroyed? But indeed at Rome this is a common surprise; for, by the remains one sees of the Roman grandeur in their structures, ’tis evident that there must have been more pains taken to destroy those piles than to raise them. They are more demolished than any time or chance could have effected. I am persuaded that in an hundred years Rome will not be worth seeing; ’tis less so now than one would believe. All the public pictures are decayed or decaying; the few ruins cannot last long; and the statues and private collections must be sold, from the great poverty of the families. There are now selling no less than three of the principal collections, the Barberini, the Sacchetti, and Ottoboni: the latter
belonged to the cardinal who died in the conclave. I must give you an instance of his generosity, or rather ostentation. When Lord Carlisle was here last year, who is a great virtuoso, he asked leave to see the cardinal’s collection of cameos and intaglios. Ottoboni gave leave, and ordered the person who showed them to observe which my lord admired most. My lord admired many: they were all sent him the next morning. He sent the cardinal back a fine gold repeater; who returned him an acate snuff box, and more cameoes of ten times the value. Voila qui est fini! Had my lord produced more golden repeaters, it would have been begging more cameos. Adieu, my dear West! You see I write often and much, as you desired it. Do answer one now and then, with any little job that is done in England. Good night. Yours ever.
(192) This report, which proved unfounded, was grounded on the fact, that on the 18th of April his Majesty’s ships Lenox, Kent, and Orford, commanded by Captains Mayne, Durell, and Lord Augustus Fitzroy, part of Admiral Balchen’s squadron being on a cruise about forty leagues to the westward of Cape Finisterre, fell in with the Princessa, esteemed the finest ship of war in the Spanish navy, and captured her, after an engagement of five hours.-E.
(193) Henry fourth Earl of Carlisle, grandfather of the present Earl. In 1742, he married Isabella, the daughter of William fourth Lord Byron, and died in 1758.-E.
(194) Cardinal Ottoboni, Dean of the Sacred College, who died in 1740: he had been made a cardinal in 1689.-E.
153 Letter 23
To Richard West, Esq.
Naples, June 14, 1740, N. S.
Dear West,
One hates writing descriptions that are to be found in every book of travels; but we have seen something to-day that I am sure you never read of, and perhaps never heard of. Have you ever heard of a subterraneous town? a whole Roman town, with all its edifices, remaining under ground? Don’t fancy the inhabitants buried it there to save it from the Goths: they were buried with it themselves; which is a caution we are not told that they ever took. You remember in Titus’s time there were several cities destroyed by an eruption of Vesuvius, attended with an earthquake. Well, this was one of them, not very considerable, and then called Herculaneum. (195) Above it has since been built Portici, about three miles from Naples, where the King has a villa. This under-ground city is perhaps one of the noblest curiosities that ever has been discovered. It was found out by chance, about a year and half ago. They began digging, they found statues; they dug, further, they found more. Since that they have made a very considerable progress, and find continually. You may walk the compass of a mile; but by the misfortune of the modern town being overhead, they are obliged to proceed with great caution, lest they destroy both one and t’other. By this occasion the path is very narrow, just wide enough and high enough for one man to walk upright. They have hollowed, as they found it easiest to work, and have carried their streets not exactly where were the ancient ones, but sometimes before houses, sometimes through them. You would imagine that all the fabrics were crushed together; on the contrary., except some columns, they have found all the edifices standing upright in their proper ‘ situation. There is one inside of a temple quite perfect, with the middle arch, two columns, and two pilasters. It is built of brick plastered over, and painted with architecture almost all the insides of the houses are in the same manner; and, what is very particular the general ground of all the painting is red. Besides this temple, they make out very plainly an amphitheatre: the stairs, of white marble and the seats are very perfect; the inside was painted in the same colour with the private houses, and great part cased with white marble. They have found among other things some fine statues, some human bones, some rice, medals, and a few paintings
extremely fine. These latter are preferred to all the ancient paintings that have ever been discovered. We have not seen them yet, as they are kept in the King’s apartment, whither all these curiosities are transplanted; and ’tis difficult to see them-but we shall. I forgot to tell you, that in several places the beams of the houses remain, but burnt to charcoal; so little damaged that they retain visibly the grain of the wood, but upon touching crumble to ashes. What is remarkable, there are no other marks or appearance of fire, but what are visible on these beams.
There might certainly be collected great light from this reservoir of antiquities, if a man of learning had the inspection of it; if he directed the working, and would make a journal of the discoveries. But I believe there is no judicious choice made of directors. There is nothing of the kind known in the world; I mean a Roman city entire of that age, and that has not been corrupted with modern repairs. (196) Besides scrutinising this very carefully, I should be inclined to search for the remains of the other towns that were partners with this in the general ruin. ‘Tis certainly an advantage to the learned world, that this has been laid up so long. Most of the discoveries in Rome were made in a barbarous age, where they only ransacked the ruins in quest of treasure, and had no regard to the form and being of the building; or to any circumstances that might give light to its use and history. I shall finish this long account with a passage which Gray has observed in Statius, and which correctly pictures out this latent city:-
Haec ego Chalcidicis ad te, Marcelle, sonabam Littoribus, fractas ubi Vestius egerit iras, Emula Trinacriis volvens incendia flammis. Mira fides! credetne viram ventura propago, Cum segetes iterum, cum jam haec deserta virebunt, Infra urbes populosque premi?
SyLv. lib. iv. epist. 4.
Adieu, my dear West! and believe me yours ever.
(195) Some excavations were made at Herculaneum in 1709 by the Prince d’Elbeuf; but, thirty years elapsed after the prince had been forbidden to dig further, before any more notice was taken of them. In December 1738 the King of the two Sicilies was at Portici, and gave orders for the prosecution of these subterranean labours. There had been an excavation in the time of the Romans;
and another so lately as 1689. In a letter from Gray to his mother, he describes their visits to Herculaneum; but, not mentioning it by name, Mason supposed it had not then been discovered to be that city. It is evident, from this observation of Walpole, that Mason’s opinion was unfounded.-E.
(196) Pompei a was not then discovered.
155 Letter 24
To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
R`e di Cofano, vulg. Radicofani, July 5, 1740, N. S.
You will wonder, my dear Hal, to find me on the road from Rome: why, intend I did to stay for a new popedom, but the old eminences are cross and obstinate, and will not choose one the Holy Ghost does not know when. There is a horrid thing called the mallaria, that comes to Rome, every summer, and kills one, and I did not care for being killed so far from Christian burial. We have been jolted to death; my servants let us come without springs to the chaise, and we are wore threadbare: to add to our disasters, I have sprained my ancle, and have brought it along, laid upon a little box of baubles that I have bought for presents in England. Perhaps I may pick you out some little trifle there, but don’t depend upon it; you are a disagreeable creature and may be I shall not care for you. Though I am so tired in this devil of a place, yet I have taken it into my head, that it is like Hamilton’s Bawn, (197) and I must write to you. ‘Tis the top of a black barren mountain, a vile little town at the foot of an old citadel: yet this, know you, was the residence of one of the three kings that went to Christ’s birth-day; his name was Alabaster, Abarasser, or some such thing; the other two were kings, one of the East, the other of Cologn. ‘Tis this of Cofano, who was represented in an ancient painting found in the Palatine Mount, now in the possession of Dr. Mead; he was crowned by Augustus. Well, but about writing-what do you think I write with? Nay, with a pen; there was never a one to be found in the whole circumference but one, and that was in the possession of the governor, and had been used time out of mind to write the parole with : I was forced to send to borrow it. It was sent me under the conduct of a sergeant and two Swiss, with desire to return it when I should have done with it. ‘Tis a curiosity, and worthy to be laid up with the relics
which we have just been seeing- in a small hovel of Capucins, on the side of the hill, and which were all brought by his Majesty from Jerusalem. Among other things of great sanctity there is a set of gnashing of teeth, the grinders very entire; a bit of the worm that never dies, preserved in spirits; a crow of St. Peter’s cock, very useful against
Easter; the crisping and curling, frizzling and frowncing of Mary Magdalen, which she cut off on growing devout. The good man that showed us all these commodities was got into such a train of calling them the blessed this, and blessed that, that at last he showed us a bit of the blessed fig-tree that Christ cursed.
Florence, July 9.
My dear Harry,
We are come hither, and I have received another letter from you with Hosier’s Ghost. Your last put me in pain for you, when you talked of going to Ireland; but now I find your brother and sister go with you, I am not much concerned. Should I be? You have but to say, for my feelings are extremely at your service to dispose as you please. Let us see: you are to come back to stand for some
place; that will be about April. ‘Tis a sort of thing I should do, too; and then we should see one another, and that would be charming; but it is a sort of thing I have no mind to do; and then we shall not see one another, unless you would come hither-but that you cannot do: nay, I would not have you, for then I shall be gone. So! there are many @ that just signify nothing at all. Return I must sooner than I shall like. I am happy here to a degree. I’ll tell you my situation. I am lodged with Mr. Mann, (198) the best of creatures. I have a terreno all to myself, with an open gallery on the Arno, where I am now writing to you. Over against me is the famous Gallery; and, on either hand, two fair bridges. Is not this charming and cool? The air is so serene, and so secure, that one sleeps with all the windows and doors thrown open to the river, and only covered with a slight gauze to keep away the gnats. Lady Pomfret
(199) has a charming conversation once a week. She has taken a vast palace and a vast garden, which is vastly commode, especially to the cicisbeo-part of mankind, who have free indulgence to wander in pairs about the arbours. You know her daughters : Lady Sophia (200) is still, nay she must be, the beauty she was: Lady Charlotte, (201) is much improved, and is the cleverest girl in the world; speaks the purest Tuscan, like any Florentine. The
Princess Craon (202) has a constant pharaoh and supper every night, where one is quite at one’s ease. I am going into the country with her and the prince for a little while, to a villa of the Great Duke’s. The people are good-humoured here and easy; and what makes me pleased with them, they are pleased with me. One loves to find people care for one, when they can have no view in it.
You see how glad I am to have reasons for not returning; I wish I had no better.
As to Hosier’s Ghost, (203) I think it very easy, and consequently pretty; but, from the ease, should never have guessed it Glover’s. I delight in your, “the patriots cry it up, and the courtiers cry it down, and the hawkers cry it up and down,” and your laconic history of the King and Sir Robert, on going to Hanover, and turning out the Duke of Argyle. The epigram, too, you sent me
on the same occasion is charming.
Unless I sent you back news that you and others send me, I can send you none. I have left the conclave, which is the only stirring thing in this part of the world, except the child that the Queen of Naples is to be delivered of in August. There is no likelihood the conclave will end, unless the messages take effect which ’tis said the Imperial and
French ministers have sent to their respective courts for leave to quit the Corsini for the Albani faction: otherwise there will never be a pope. Corsini has
lost the only one he could have ventured to make pope, and him he designed; ’twas Cenci, a relation of the Corsini’s mistress. The last morning Corsini made him rise, stuffed a dish of chocolate down his throat, and would carry him to the scrutiny. The poor old creature went, came back, and died. I am sorry to have lost the sight of the pope’s coronation, but I might have stayed for seeing it till I had been old enough to be pope myself.
Harry, what luck the chancellor has! first, indeed, to be in himself so great a man; but then in accidents: he is made chief justice and peer, when Talbot is made chancellor and peer: (204) Talbot dies in a twelvemonth, and leaves him the seals at an age when others are scarce made solicitors: (205)-then marries his son into one of the first families of Britain, (206) obtains a patent for a marquisate and eight thousand pounds a year after the Duke of Kent’s death: the duke dies in a fortnightt, and leaves them all! People talk of Fortune’s wheel, that is always rolling: my Lord Hardwicke has overtaken her wheel, and rolled with it. I perceive Miss Jenny (207) would not venture to Ireland, nor stray so far from London; I am glad I shall always know where to find her within threescore miles. I must say a word to my lord, which, Harry, be sure you don’t read. [“My dear lord, I don’t love troubling you with letters, because I know you don’t love the trouble of answering them; not that I should insist on that ceremony, but I hate to burthen any one’s conscience. Your brother tells me he is to stand member of parliament: without telling me so, I am sure he owes it to you. I am sure you will not repent setting him up; nor will he be ungrateful to a brother who deserves so much, and whose least merit is not the knowing how to employ so great a fortune.”]
There, Harry,-I have done. Don’t suspect me: I have said no ill of you behind your back. Make my
best compliments to Miss Conway. (208)
I thoght I had done, and lo, I had forgot to tell you, that who d’ye think is here?-Even Mr. More! our Rheims Mr. More! the fortification, hornwork, ravelin, bastion Mr. More! which is very pleasant sure. At the end of the eighth side, I think I need make no excuse for leaving off; but I am going to write to Selwyn, and to the lady of the mountain; from whom I have had a very kind letter. She has at last received the Chantilly brass. Good night: write to me from one end of the world to t’other. Yours ever.
(197) A large old house, two miles from the seat of Sir Arthur Acheson, near Market-hill, and the scene of Swift’s humorous poem, “The Grand Question debated, whether Hamilton’s Bawn should be turned into a barrack or a malt- house.”-E.
(198) Afterwards Sir Horace Mann. He was at this time resident at Florence from George II.
(199) Henrietta Louisa, wife of Thomas Earl of Pomfret. [She was the daughter of John Lord Jefferies, Baron of Wem. Lady Pomfret, who was the friend and correspondent of Frances Duchess of Somerset, retired from the court upon the death of Queen Caroline in 1737.]
(200) Afterwards married to John Lord Carteret, who became Earl of Granville on the death of his mother in the year 1744.
(201) Lady Charlotte Fermor married, in August 1746, William Finch, brother of Daniel seventh Earl of Winchelsea, by whom she had issue a son, George, who, on the death of his uncle, in 1769, succeeded to the earldom. Her ladyship was governess to the children of George III., and highly esteemcd by him and his royal consort.-E.
(202) The Princess Craon was the favourite mistress of Leopold the last Duke of Lorrain, who married her to M. de Beauveau, and prevailed on the Emperor to make him a prince of the empire. They at this time resided at Florence, where Prince Craon was at the head of the council of regency.
(203) This was a party ballad (written by Glover, though by some at the time ascribed to Lord Bath,) on the taking of Porto-Bello by Admiral Vernon. “The case of Hosier,” says Bishop Percy, in his admirable Reliques, vol. ii. p. 382, where the song is preserved, “The case of Hosier, which is here so pathetically represented, was briefly this. In April 1726, that commander was sent with a strong fleet into the Spanish West Indies to block up the galleons in the port of that country, or, should they presume to come out, to seize and carry them to England: he accordingly arrived at Bastimentos, near Porto-Bello; but, being employed rather to overawe than attack the Spaniards, with whom it was probably not our interest to go to war, he continued long inactive on this station. He afterwards removed to Carthagena, and remained crusing in those seas, till the greater part of his men perished deplorably by the diseases of that unhealthy Climate. This brave man, seeing his best officers and men thus daily swept away, his ships exposed to inevitable destruction, and himself made the sport of the enemy, is said to have died of a broken heart.-E.
(204) Philip Yorke Lord Hardwicke was the son of an attorney at Dover, and was introduced by the Duke of Newcastle to Sir Robert Walpole. He was attorney-general, and when Talbot, the solicitor-general, was preferred to him in the contest for the chancellorship, Sir Robert made him chief justice for life, with an increased salary. He was an object of aversion to Horace Walpole, who, in his Memoirs, tells us, “in the House of Lords, he was laughed at, in the cabinet despised.” Upon which it is very properly observed by the noble editor of those memoirs, Lord Hollan,-“Yet, in the course of the work, Walpole laments Lord Hardwicke’s influence in the cabinet, where he would have us believe that he was despised, and acknowledges that he exercised a dominion nearly absolute over that house of Parliament which, he would persuade his readers, laughed at him. The truth is, that, wherever this great magistrate is mentioned, Lord Orford’s resentments blind his judgment and disfigure his narrative.”-E.
(205) charles Talbot baron Talbot was, on the 29th Nov. 1733, made lord high chancellor and created a baron; and, dying in Feb. 1737, was succeeded by Lord Hardwicke. There is a story current, that Sir Robert Walpole, finding it difficult to prevail on Yorke to quit a place for life, for the higher but more precarious dignity of chancellor, worked upon his jealousy, and said that if he persisted in refusing the seals, he must offer them to Fazakerly. “Fazakerly!” exclaimed Yorke, “impossible! he is certainly a Tory, perhaps a Jacobite.” “It’s all very true,” replied Sir Robert, taking out his watch; ” but if by one o’clock you do not accept my offer, Fazakerly by two becomes lord keeper of the great seal, and one of the staunchest Whigs in all England!” Yorke took the seals and the peerage.-E.
(206) That of Grey, Duke of Kent, see avove.-E.
(207) Miss Jane Conway, half-sister to Henry Seymour Conway. She died unmarried in 1749.
(208) Afterwirds married to John Harris, Esq. of Hayne in Devonshire.
159 Letter 25
To Richard West, Esq.
Florence, July 31, 1740, N. S.
Dear West,
I have advised with the most notable antiquarians of this city on the meaning of Thur gut Luetis. I can get no satisfactory interpretation. In my own opinion ’tis Welsh. I don’t love offering conjectures on a language in which I have hitherto made little proficiency, but I will trust you with my explication. You know the famous Aglaughlan, mother of Cadwalladhor, was renowned for her conjugal virtues, and grief on the death of her royal spouse. I conclude this medal was struck in her regency, by her express order, to the memory of her lord, and that the inscription Thur gut Luetis means no more than her dear Llewis or Llewellin.
In return for your coins I send you two or three of different kinds. The first is a money of one of the kings of Naples; the device, a horse; the motto, Equitas regni. This curious pun is on a coin in the Great Duke’s collection, and by great chance I have met with a second. Another is, a satirical medal struck on Lewis XIV.; ’tis a bomb, covered with flower-de-luces, bursting; the motto, Se ipsissimo. The last, and almost the only one I ever saw with a text well applied, is a German medal with a Rebellious town besieged and blocked up; the inscription, This kind is not expelled but by fasting. Now I mention medals, have they yet struck the intended one on the taking of Porto-Bello? Admiral Vernon will shine in our medallic history. We have just received the news of the bombarding Carthagena, and the taking Chagre. (209) We are in great expectation of some important victory obtained by the squadron under Sir John Norris. we are told the Duke is to be of the expedition; is it true? (210) All the letters, too, talk of France suddenly declaring war; I hope they will defer it for a season, or one shall be obliged to return through Germany.
The conclave still subsists, and the divisions still increase; it was very near separating last week, but by breaking into two popes; they were on the dawn of a schism. Aldovrandi had thirty-three voices for three days, but could not procure the requisite two more; the Camerlingo having engaged his faction to sign a protestation against him and each party were inclined to elect. I don’t know whether one should wish for a schism or not; it might probably rekindle the zeal for the church in the powers of Europe which has been so far decaying. On Wednesday we expect a third she-meteor. Those learned luminaries the Ladies Pomfret and Walpole are to be joined by the Lady Mary Wortley Montague. You have not been witness to the rhapsody of mystic nonsense which these two fair ones debate incessantly, and consequently cannot figure what must be the issue of this triple alliance: we have some idea of it. Only figure the coalition of prudery, debauchery, sentiment, history, Greek, Latin, French, Italian, and metaphysics; all, except the second, understood by halves, by quarters, or not at all. You shall have the journals of this notable academy. Adieu, my dear West! Yours ever,
Hor. Walpole.
Though far unworthy to enter into so learned and political a correspondence, I am employed pour barbouiller une page de 7 pounces et demie en hauteur, et `a en largeur; and to inform you that we are at Florence, a city of Italy, and the capital of Tuscany: the latitude I cannot justly tell, but it is governed by a prince called Great Duke; an excellent place to employ all one’s animal sensations in, but utterly contrary to one’s rational powers. I have struck a medal upon myself: the device is thus 0, and the motto Nihilissimo, which I take in the most concise manner to contain a full account of my person, sentiments, occupations, and late glorious successes. If you choose to be annihilated too, you cannot do better than undertake this journey. Here you shall get up at twelve o’clock, breakfast till three, dine till five, sleep till six, drink cooling liquors till eight, go to the bridge till ten, sup till two, and so sleep till twelve again.
Lahore fessi venimus ad larem nostrum, Desideratoque acquiescimus lecto;
Hoc est, quod unum est, pro laborious tantis. O quid solutis est beatius curis?
We shall never come home again; a universal war is just upon the point of breaking out; all outlets will be shut up. I shall be secure in my nothingness, while you, that will be so absurd as to exist, will envy me. You don’t tell me what proficiency you make in the noble science of defence. Don’t you start still at the sound of a gun? Have you learned to say ha! ha! and is your neck clothed with thunder? Are your whiskers of a tolerable length? And have you got drunk yet with brandy and gunpowders? Adieu, noble captain!
T. GRAY.
(209) On the 24th March, 1740, the Spaniards hung out a white flag, and the place was surrendered by capitulation to Admiral Vernon.-E.
(210) The Duke of Cumberland had resolved to accompany Sir John Norris as a volunteer, and sailed with him from St. Helens on the 10th June; but on the 17th a gale arising drove them into Torbay, Where Sir John continued until the 29th, when he again put to sea; but the wind once more becoming contrary, and blowing very hard, he was constrained to return to Spithead, and on the following day his royal highness returned to London.-E.
161 Letter 26
To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Florence, September 25, 1740, N. S.
My dear Hal,
I begin to answer your letter the moment I have read it, because you bid me; but I grow so unfit for a correspondence with any body in England, that I have almost left it off. ‘Tis so long since I was there, and I am so utterly a stranger to every thing that passes there, that I must talk vastly in the dark to those I write: and having in a manner settled myself here, where there can be no news, I am void of all matter for filling up a letter. As, by the absence of the Great Duke, Florence is become in a manner a country town, YOU may imagine that we are not without dem`el`es; but for a country town I believe there never were a set of people so peaceable, and such strangers to scandal. ‘Tis the family of love, where every body is paired, and go as constantly together as paroquets. Here nobody hangs or drowns themselves; they are not ready to cut one another’s throats about elections or parties; don’t think that wit consists in saying bold truths, or humour in getting
drunk. But I shall give you no more of their characters, because I am so unfortunate as to think that their encomium consists in being the reverse of the English, who in general are either mad, or enough to make other people so. After telling you so fairly my sentiments, you may believe, my dear Harry, that I had rather see you here than in England. ‘Tis an evil wish for you, who should not be lost in so obscure a place as this. I will not make you compliments, or else here is a charming opportunity for saying what I think of you. As I am convinced you love me, and as I am conscious you have One strong reason for it, I will own to you, that for my own peace you should wish me to remain here. I am so well within and without, that you would scarce know me: I am younger than ever, think of nothing but diverting myself, and live in a round of pleasures. We have operas, concerts, and balls,
mornings and evenings. I dare not tell you all One’s idleness: you would look so grave and senatorial at hearing that one rises at eleven in the morning, goes to the opera at nine at night, to supper at one, and to bed at three! But literally here the evenings and nights are so charming and so warm, one can’t avoid ’em.
Did I tell you Lady Mary Wortley is here? She laughs at my Lady Walpole, scolds my Lady Pomfret, and is laughed at by the whole town. (211) Her dress, her avarice, and her impudence must amaze any one that never heard her name. She wears a foul mob, that does not cover her greasy black locks, that hang loose, never combed or curled; an old mazarine blue
wrapper, that gapes open and discovers a canvass petticoat. Her face swelled violently on one side with the remains of a-, partly covered with a plaster, and partlv with white paint, which for cheapness she has bought so coarse, that you would not use it to wash a chimney.-In three words I will give you her picture (212) as we drew it in the Sortes Virgilianae- Insanam vatem aepicies.
I give you my honour, we did not choose it; but Mr. Gray, Mr. Cooke, (213) Sir Francis Dashwood, (214) and I, and several others, drew it fairly amongst a thousand for different people, most of which did not hit as you may imagine: those that did I will tell you.
For our most religious and gracious-
-Dii, talem terris avertite pestem.
For one that would be our most religious and gracious. Purpureus veluti cum flos succisus aratro Languescit moriens, lassove papavera collo Demis`ere caput, pluvia cum fort`e gravantur.
For his son.
Regis Romani: primus qui legibus urbem Fundabit, Curibus parvis et paupere terra, Missus in imperium magnum.
For Sir Robert.
Res dura et regni novitas me talia cogunt Moliri, et late fines custode tueri.
I will show you the rest when I see you.
(211) In a letter from Florence, written by Lady Mary to Mr. Wortley, on the 11th of August, she says, “Lord and Lady Pomfret take pains to make the place agreeable to me, and I have been visited by the greatest part of the people of quality.” See the edition of her works, edited by Lord Wharncliffe, vol. ii. p. 325.-E.
(212) The following favourable picture” of Lady Mary is by Spence, who met her at Rome, in the ensuing January:-” She is one of the most shining characters in the world, but shines like a comet; she is all irregularity, and always wandering; the most wise, most imprudent; loveliest, most disagreeable; best-natured, cruellest woman in the world; ‘all things by turns, and nothing long.'”-E.
(213) George Cooke, Esq. afterwards member for Tregony, and chief prothonotary in the Court of Common Pleas. On Mr. Pitt’s return to office in 1766 he was appointed joint paymaster-general, and died in 1768. See Chatham Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 338.-E.
(214) Sir Francis Dashwood, who, on the death of John Earl of Westmoreland, succeeded to the barony of Le Despencer, as being the only son of Mary, eldest sister of the said Earl, and which was confirmed to him 19th April’1763.-E.
163 Letter 27
To Sir Richard West, Esq.
Florence, Oct. 2, 1740, N. S.
Dear West,
T’other night as we (you know who we are) were walking on the charming bridge, just before going to a wedding assembly, we said, Lord, I wish, just as we are got into the room, they would call us out, and say, West is arrived! We would make him dress instantly, and carry him back to the entertainment. How he would stare and wonder at a thousand things, that no longer strike us as odd!” Would not you? One agreed that you should come directly by sea from Dover, and be set down at Leghorn, without setting foot in any other foreign town, and so land at Us, in all your first full amaze; for you are to know, that astonishment rubs off violently; we did not cry out Lord! half so much at Rome as at Calais, which to this hour I look upon as one of the most surprising cities in the
universe. My dear child, what if you were to take this little sea-jaunt? One would recommend Sir John Norris’s convoy to you, but one should be laughed at now for supposing that he is ever to sail beyond Torbay.(215) The Italians take Torbay for an English town in the hands of the Spaniards, after the fashion of Gibraltar, and imagine ’tis a wonderful strong place, by our fleet’s having retired from before it so often, and so often returned. We went to this wedding that I told you of; ’twas a charming feast: a large palace finely illuminated; there were all the beauties, all the jewels, and all the sugarplums of Florence. Servants loaded with great chargers full of comfits heap the tables with them, the women fall on with both hands, and stuff their pockets and every creek and corner about them. You would be as much amazed at us as at any thing you saw: instead of being deep in the arts, and being in the Gallery every morning, as I thought
of course to be sure I would be, we are in all the idleness and amusements of the town. For me, I am grown so lazy, and so tired-of seeing sights, that, though I have been at Florence six months, I have not seen Leghorn, Pisa, Lucca, or Pistoia; nay, not so much as one of the Great Duke’s villas. I have contracted so great an aversion to postchaises, and have so absolutely lost all curiosity, that, except the towns in the straight road to Great Britain, I shall scarce see a jot more of a foreign land; and trust me, when I returt), I will not visit the Welsh mountains, like Mr. Williams. After Mount Cenis, the Boccheto, the Giogo, Radicofani, and the Appian Way, one has mighty little hunger after travelling. I shall be mighty apt to set up my staff at Hyde Park corner: the alehouseman there at Hercules’s Pillars(216) was certainly returned from his travels into foreign parts.
Now I’ll answer your questions.
I have made no discoveries in ancient or modern arts. Mr. Addison travelled through the poets, and not through Italy; for all his ideas are borrowed from the descriptions, and not from the reality. He saw places as they were, not as they are. I am very well acquainted with Dr. Cocchi; (217) he is a good sort of man, rather than a great man; he is a plain honest creature, with quiet knowledge, but I dare say all the English have told you, he has a very particular understanding: I really don’t believe they meant to impose on you, for they thought so. As to Bondelmonti, he is much less; he is a low mimic; the brightest cast of his parts attains to the composition of a sonnet: he talks irreligion with- English boys, sentiment with my sister, (218) and bad French with any one that will hear him. I will transcribe you a little song that he made t’other day; ’tis pretty enough; Gray turned it into Latin, and I into English; you will honour him highly by putting it into French, and Asheton into Greek. Here ’tis. Spesso Amor sotto la forma
D’amista ride, e s’asconde;
Poi si mischia, e si confonde
Con lo sdegno e col rancor.
In pietade ei si trasforma,
Pas trastullo e par dispetto;
ma nel suo diverso aspetto,
Sempre egli `a l’istesso Amor.
Risit amicitiae interd`um velatus amictu, Et ben`e composit`a veste fefellit Amor: Mox irae assumpsit cultus faciemque minantem, Inque odium versus, versus et in lacrymas: Ludentem fuge, nec lacrymanti aut furenti; Idem est dissimili semper in ore Deus.
Love often in the comely mien
Of friendship fancies to be seen;
Soon again he shifts his dress,
And wears disdain and rancour’s face.
To gentle pity then he changes-
Thro’ wantonness, thro’ piques he ranges;
But in whatever shape he moves,
He’s still himself, and still is Love.
See how we trifle! but one can’t pass one’s youth too amusingly for one must grow old, and that in England; two most serious circumstances, either of which makes people gray in the twinkling of a bedstaff; for know you there is not a country upon earth where there are so many old fools and so few young ones.
Now I proceed in my answers.
I made but small collections, and have only bought some bronzes and medals, a few busts, and two or three pictures: one of my busts is to be mentioned; ’tis the famous vespasian in touchstone, reckoned the best in Rome, except the Caracalia of the Farnese- I gave but twenty-two POUDds for it at Cardinal Ottoboni’s sale. One of my medals is as great a curiosity; ’tis of Alexander Severus, with the amphitheatre in brass; this reverse is extant on medals of his, but mine is a medagliuncino, or small medallion, and The Only one with this reverse known in the world: ’twas found by a peasant while I was in Rome, and sold by him for sixpence to an antiquarian, to whom I paid for it seven guineas and a half: but to virtuosi ’tis worth any SUM.
As to Tartini’s (219) musical compositions, ask Gray; I know but little in music.
But for the Academy, I am not of it, but frequently in company with it: ’tis all disjointed. Madame * * *, who, though a learned lady, has not lost her modesty and character, is extremely scandalized with the other two dames, especially Moll Worthless, who knows no bounds. She is at rivalry with Lady W. for a certain Mr. * * *, whom perhaps you knew at Oxford. If you did not, I’ll tell you: he is a grave young man by temper, and a rich one by constitution; a shallow creature by nature, but a wit by the grace of our women here, whom he deals with as of old with the Oxford toasts. He fell into sentiments with my Lady W. and was happy to catch her at Platonic love; but as she seldom stops there, the poor man will be frightened out of his senses when she shall break the matter to him; for he never dreamt that her purposes were so naught. Lady Mary is so far gone, that to get him from the mouth of her antagonist she literally took him out to dance country dances last night at a formal ball, where there was no measure kept in laughing at her old, foul, tawdry, painted, plastered personage. She played at pharaoh two or three times at Princess Craon’s, where she cheats horse and foot. She is really entertaining: I have been reading her works, which she lends out in manuscript, but they are too womanish: I like few of her performances. I forgot to tell you a good answer of Lady Pomfret to mr. W. *** who asked her if she did not approve Platonic love. “Lord, sir,” says she, , “I am sure any one that knows me never heard that I had any love but one, and there sit two proofs of it,” pointing to her two daughters.
So I have given you a sketch of our employments, and answered your questions, and will with pleasure as many more as you have about you. Adieu! Was ever such a lon@ letter? But ’tis nothing to what I shall have to say to you. I shaft scold you for never telling us any news, public or private, no deaths, riiarriages, or mishaps; no account of new books: Oh, you are abominable! I could find it in my heart to hate You if I did not love you so well; but we will quarrel now, that we may be the better friends when we meet: there is no danger of that, is there? Good night, whether friend or foe! I am most sincerely Yours.
(215) Though brave, skilful, and enterprising Sir John failed to acquire renown, in consequence of mere accidents. On the breaking out of the Spanish war, he was ordered to cruise in the Bay of Biscay; but, owing to tempestuous weather, was compelled to put into port for the winter. The following lines were addressed to him upon this occasion:
“Homeward, oh! bend thy course; the seas are rough; To the Land’s End who sails has sailed enough.” E.
(216) Walpole calls the Hercules’ Pillars an alehouse. Whatever it might have been at the period he wrote, it is very certain that, after the peace of 1762, it was a respectable tavern, where the Marquis of Granby, and other persons of rank, particularly military men, had frequent dinner parties, which were then fashionable. It was also an inn of great repute among the west-country gentlemen, coming to London for a few weeks, who thought themselves fortunate if they could secure accommodations for their families at the Hercules’ Pillars. The spot where it once stood, is now occupied by the noble mansion of the Duke of Wellington.-E.
(217) Dr. Antonio Cocchi, a learned physician, resident at Florence, who published a collection of Greek writers upon medicine. He figures conspicuously in Spence’s Anecdotes.-E.
(218) Margaret Rolle, wife of Robert Walpole, eldest son of Sir Robert Walpole, created Lord Walpole during the lifetime of his father.
(219) Giuseppe Tartini of Padua, whom Viotti pronounced the last great improver of the practice of the violin. Several of Tartini’s compositions are particularized in that amusing little volume, “The Violin and its Professors,” by Mr. Dubourg, who has recorded in quaint verse the well-known story of the “Devil’s Sonata,” a piece of diablerie, the result of which is that to this day, Tartini’s tale hath made all fiddlers say, A hard sonata is the devil to play!-E.
166 Letter 28
To Richard West, Esq.
>From Florence, Nov. 1740.
Child, I am going to let you see your shocking proceedings with us. On my conscience, I believe ’tis three months since you wrote to either Gray or me. If you had been ill, Ashton would have said so; and if you had been dead the gazettes would have said it. If you had been angry,-but that’s impossible; how can one quarrel with folks three thousand miles off? We are neither divines nor commentators, and consequently have not hated you on paper. ‘Tis to show that my charity for you cannot be interrupted at this distance that I write to you, though I have nothing to say, for ’tis a bad time for small news; and when emperors and czarinas are dying all up and down Europe, one can’t pretend to tell you of any thing that happens within our sphere. Not but that we have our accidents too. if you have had a great wind in England, we have had a great water at Florence. We have been trying to set out every day, and pop upon you (220) * * * * * It is fortunate that we stayed, for I don’t know what had become of us! Yesterday, with violent rains, there came flouncing down from the mountains such a flood that it
floated the whole city. The jewellers on the Old Bridge removed their commodities, -and in two hours after the bridge was cracked. The torrent broke down the quays and drowned several coach-horses, which are kept here in stables under ground. We were moated into our house all day, which is near the Arno, and had the miserable spectacles of the ruins that were washed along with the hurricane. There was a cart with two oxen not quite dead, and four men in it drowned: but what was ridiculous, there came tiding along a fat haycock, with a hen and her eggs, and a cat. The torrent is considerably abated; but we expect terrible news from the country, especially from Pisa, which stands so much lower, and nearer the sea. There is a stone here, which, when the water overflows, Pisa is entirely flooded. The water rose two ells yesterday above that stone. Judge!
For this last month we have passed our time but dully; all diversions silenced on the emperor’s death, (221) and everybody out of town. I have seen nothing but cards and dull pairs of cicisbeos. I have literally seen so much love and pharaoh since being here, that I believe I shall never love either again SO long as I live. Then I am got in a horrid lazy way of a morning. I don’t believe I should know seven o’clock in the morning again if I was to see it. But I am returning to England, and shall grow very solemn and wise! Are you wise'( Dear West, have pity on one who have done nothing of gravity for these two years, and do laugh sometimes. We do nothing else, and have contracted such formidable ideas of the good people of England that we are already nourishing great black eyebrows and great black beards, and teasing our countenances into wrinkles. Then for the common talk of the times, we are quite at a loss, and for the dress. You would oblige us exceedingly by forwarding to us the votes of the houses, the king’s speech, and the magazines; or if you had any such thing as a little book called the Foreigner’s Guide through the city of London and the liberties of Westminster; or a letter to a Freeholder; or the Political Companion: then ‘twoulg be an infinite obligation if you would neatly band-box up a baby dressed after the newest Temple fashion now in use at both play-houses. Alack-a-day! We shall just arrive in the tempest of elections!
As our departure depends entirely upon the weather, we cannot tell you to a day when we shall say Dear West, how glad I am to see you! and all the many questions and answers that we shall give and take. Would the day were come! Do but figure to yourself the journey we are to pass through first! But you can’t conceive Alps, Apennines,
Italian inns, and postchaises. I tremble at the thoughts. They were just sufferable while new and unknown, and as we met them by the way in coming to Florence, Rome, and Naples; but they are passed, and the mountains remain! Well, write to one in the interim; direct to me addressed to Monsieur Selwyn, chez Monsieur.Ilexandre, Rue St. Apolline, a Paris. If Mr. Alexandre is not there, the street is, and I believe that will be sufficient. Adieu, my dear child! Yours ever.
(220) A line of the manuscript is here torn away.
(221) Charles the Sixth, Emperor of Germany, upon whose death, on the 9th of October, his eldest daughter, Maria-Theresa, in virtue of the Pragmatic Sanction, instantly succeeded to the whole Austrian inheritance.-E.
168 Letter 29
To The Rev. Joseph Spence. (222)
Florence, Feb. 21, 1741, N. S.
Sir,
Not having time last post, I begged Mr. Mann to thank you for the obliging paragraph for me in your letter to him. But as I desire a nearer correspondence with you than by third hands, I assure you in my own proper person that I shall have great pleasure, on our meeting in England, to renew an acquaintance that ‘I began with so much pleasure in Italy. (223) I Will not reckon you among my modern friends, but in the first article of virtu: you have given me so many new lights into a science that but a warmth and freedom that will flow from my friendship, and which will not be contained within the circle of a severe awe. As I shall always be attentive to give you any satisfaction that lies in my power, I take the first opportunity of sending you two little poems, both by a hand that I know you esteem the most; if you have not seen them, you will thank me for lilies of Mr. Pope: if you have, why I did not know it.
I don’t know whether Lord Lincoln has received any orders to return home: I had a letter from one of my brothers last post to tell me from Sir Robert that he would have me leave Italy as soon as possible, lest I should be shut up unawares by the arrival of the Spanish troops; and that I might pass some time in France if I had amind. I own I don’t conceive how it is possible these troops should arrive without its being known some time before. And as to the Great Duke’s dominions, one can always be out of them in ten hours or less. If Lord Lincoln has not received the same orders.. I shall believe what I now think, that I am wanted for some other reason. I beg my kind love to Lord Lincoln, and that Mr. Spence will believe me, his sincere humble servant HOR. WALPOLE.
(222) The well-known friend of Pope and author of the Polymetis, who was then travelling on the Continent with Henry, Earl of Lincoln, afterwards Duke of Newcastle. See ante p. 140, (Letter 14, and footnote 175).-E.
(223) This acquaintance proved of infinite service to Walpole, shortly after the date of this letter, when he was laid up with a quinsy at Reggio. Spence thus describes the circumstance: “About three or four in the morning I was surprised with a message, saying that Mr. Walpole was very much worse, and desired to see me; I went, and found him scarce able to speak. I soon learned from his servants that he had been all the while without a physician, and had doctored himself; so I immediately sent for the best aid the place would afford, and despatched a messenger to the minister at Florence, desiring him to send my friend Dr. Cocchi. In about twenty-four hours I had the satisfaction to find Mr. Walpole better: we left him in a fair way of recovery, and we hope to see him next week at Venice. I had obtained leave of Lord Lincoln to stay behind some days if he had been worse. You see what luck one has sometimes in going out of one’s way. If Lord Lincoln had not wandered to
Reggio, Mr. Walpole (who is one of the best-natured and most sensible young gentlemen England affords) would have, in all probability, fallen a sacrifice to his disorder.”-E.
169 Letter 30
To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Florence, March 25th, 1741, N. S.
Dear Hal,
You must judge by what you feel yourself of what I feel for Selwyn’s recovery, with the addition of what I have suffered from post to post. But as I find the whole town have had the same sentiments about him, (though I am sure few so strong as myself,) I will not repeat what you have heard so much. I shall write to him to-night, though he knows without my telling him how very much I love him. To you, my dear Harry, I am infinitely obliged for the three successive letters you wrote me about him, which gave me double pleasure, as they showed your attention for me at a time that you know I must be so unhappy; and your friendship for him. Your account of Sir Robert’s victory (224) was so extremely well told, that I made Gray translate it into French, and have showed it to all that could taste It, or were inquisitive on the occasion. I have received a print by this post that diverts me extremely; ‘the Motion.’ (225) Tell me, dear, now, who made the design, and who took the likenesses; they are admirable: the lines are as good as one sees on such occasions. I wrote last post to Sir Robert, to wish him joy; I hope he received my letter.
I was to have set out last Tuesday, but on Sunday came the news of the Queen of Hungary being brought to bed of a son; (226) on which occasion here will be great triumphs, operas and masquerades, which detain me for a short time.
I won’t make you any excuse for sending you the follOWing lines; you have prejudice enough for me to read with patience any Of My idlenesses. (227)
My dear Harry, you enrage me with talking of another journey to Ireland; it will shock me if I don’t find you at my return: pray take care and be in England.
I wait with some patience to see Dr. Middleton’s Tully, as I read the greatest part of it in manuscript; though indeed ’tis rather a reason for my being impatient to read the rest. If Tully can receive any additional honour, Dr. Middleton is most capable of conferring it. (228)
I receivc with great pleasure any remembrances of my lord and your sisters; I long to see all of you. Patapan is so handsome that he has been named the silver fleece; and there is a new order of knighthood to be erected to his honour, in opposition to the golden. Precedents are searching, and plans drawing up for that purpose. I hear that the natives pretend to be companions, upon the authority of their dogskin waistcoats; but a council that has been held on purpose has declared their pretensions impertinent. Patapan has lately taken wife unto him, as ugly as he is genteel, but of a very great family, being the direct heiress of Canis Scaliger, Lord of Verona: which principality we design to seize `a la Prussienne; that is, as soon as ever we shall have persuaded the republic of Venice that we are the best friends they have in the world. Adieu, dear child!
Yours ever.
P. S. I left my subscriptions for Middleton’s Tully with Mr. Selwyn; I won’t trouble him, but I wish you would take care and get the books, if Mr. S. has kept the list.
(224) On the event of Mr. Sandys’ motion in the House of commons to remove Sir Robert Walpole from the King’s presence and councils for ever. [The motion was negatived by 290 against 106: an unusual majority, which proceeded from the schism between the Tories and the Whigs, and the secession of Shippen and his friends. The same motion was made by Lord-Carteret in the House of Lords, and negatived by 108 against 59.-E.)
(225) The print alluded to exhibits an interesting view of Whitehall, the Treasury, and adjoining buildings, as they stood at the time. The Earl of Chesterfield, as postilion of a coach which is going full speed towards the Treasury, drives over all in his way. The Duke of Argyle is coachman, flourishing a sword instead of a whip; while Doddington is represented as a spaniel, sitting between his legs. Lord Carteret, perceiving the coach about to be overturned, is calling to the coachman,”Let me get out!” Lord Cobbam, as the footman, is holding fast on by the straps; while Lord Lyttleton is ambling by the side on a rosinante as thin as himself. Smallbrook, Bishop of Lichfield, is bowing obsequiously as they pass; while Sandys, letting fall the place-bill, exclaims, ,I thought what would come of putting him on the box.” In the foreground is Pulteney, leading several figures by strings from their noses, and wheeling a barrow filled with the Craftsman’s Letters, Champion, State of the Nation, and Common Sense, exclaiming, “Zounds, they are over!” This caricature, and another, entitled ” The Political Libertines, or Motion upon Motion,” had been provoked by one put forth by Sir Robert Walpole’s opponents, entitled “The Grounds for the Motion;” and were followed up by another from the supporters of Sandys’ motion, entitled “The Motive or Reason for his Triumph,” which the caricaturist attributes entirely to bribery.-E.
(226) Afterwards Joseph the Second, emperor of Germany.-E.
(227) Here follows the Inscription for the neglected column in the place of St. Mark, at Florence, afterwards printed in the Fugitive Pieces.
(228) Dr. Middleton’s “History of the Life of Cicero” was published in the early part of this year, by subscription, and dedicated to Pope’s enemy, Lord Hervey. This laboured encomium on his lordship obtained for the doctor a niche in the Dunciad:-
Narcissus, praised with all a Parson’s power, Look’d a white lily sunk beneath a shower.”-E.
170 Letter 31
To Richard West, Esq.
Reggio, May 1 1741, N. S.
Dear West,
I have received the end of your first act, (229) and now will tell you sincerely what I think of it. If I was not so pleased with the beginning as I usually am with your compositions, believe me the part of Pausanias has charmed me. There is all imaginable art joined with all requisite simplicity: and a simplicity, I think, much preferable to that in the scenes of Cleodora and Argilius. Forgive me, if I say they do not talk laconic but low English in her, who is Persian too, there would admit more heroic. But for the whole part of Pausanias, ’tis great and well worried up, and the art that is seen seems to proceed from his head, not from the author’s. As I am very desirous you should continue, so I own I wish you would improve or change the beginning: those who know you not so well as I do, would not wait with so much patience for the entrance of Pausanias. You see I am frank; and if I tell you I do not approve of the first part, you may believe me as sincere when I tell you I admire the latter extremely.
My letter has an odd date. You would not expect I should be writing in such a dirty place as Reggio: but the fair is charming; and here come all the nobility of Lombardy, and all the broken dialects of Genoa, Milan, Venice, Bologna, etc. You never heard such a ridiculous confusion of tongues. All the morning one goes to the fair undressed, as to the walks of Tunbridge: ’tis Just in that manner, with lotteries, raffles, etc. After dinner all the company return in their coaches, and make a kind of corso, with the ducal family, who go to shops, where you talk to ’em, from thence to the opera, in mask if you will, and afterwards to the ridotto. This five nights in the week, Fridays there are masquerades, and
Tuesdays balls at the Rivalta, a villa of the Duke’s. In short, one diverts oneself. I pass most part of the opera in the Duchess’s box, who is extremely civil to me and extremely agreeable. A daughter of the Regent’s, (230) that could please him, must be so. She is not young, though still handsome, but fat; but has given up her gallantries cheerfully, and in time, and lives easily with a dull husband, two dull sisters of his, and a dull court. These two princesses are wofully ugly, old maids and rich. They might have been married often; but the old Duke was whimsical and proud, and never would consent to any match for them, but left them much money, and pensions of three thousand pounds a year apiece. There was a design to have given the eldest to this King of Spain, and the Duke was to have had the Parmesan princess; so that now he would have had Parma and Placentia, Joined to Modena, Reggio, Mirandola, and Massa. But there being a Prince of Asturias, the old Duke Rinaldo broke off the match, and said his daughter’s children should not be younger brothers: and so they mope old virgins.
I am goin@ from hence to Venice, in a fright lest there be a war with France, and then I must drag myself through Germany. We have had an imperfect account of a sea-fight in America . but we are so out of the way, that one can’t be sure of it. Which way soever I return, I shall be soon in England, and there you ‘will find me again.
As much as ever yours.
(229) of a tragedy called Pausanias, The first act, and probably all that was ever written by Mr. West. [In the preceding month West had forwarded to Gray the sketch of this tragedy, which he appears to have criticised with much freedom; but Mr. Mason did not find among Gray’s papers either the sketch itself, or the free critique upon it.]
(230) Philip Duke of Orleans.
172 Letter 32
To Sir Horace Mann. (231)
Calais, and Friday, and here I have been these two days, 1741.
Is the wind laid? Shall I Dever get aboard? I came here on Wednesday night, but found a tempest that has never ceased since. At Boulogne I left Lord Shrewsbury and his mother, and brothers and sisters, waiting too: Bulstrode (232) passes his winter at the court of Boulogne, and then is to travel with two young Shrewsburys. I was overtaken by Amorevoli and Monticelli, (233) who are here with me and the Viscontina, and Barberina, and Abbate Vanneschi (234)-what
a coxcomb! I would have talked to him about the opera, but he preferred politics. I have wearied Amorevoli with questions about you. If he was not just come from you, and could talk to me about you, I should hate him; for, to flatter me, he told me that I talked Italian better than you. He did not know how little I think it a compliment to have any thing preferred to you-besides, you know the consistence of my Italian! They are all frightened out of their senses about going on the sea, and are not a little afraid of the English. They went on board the William and Mary yacht yesterday, which waits here for Lady Cardigan from Spa. The captain clapped the door, and swore in broad English that the Viscontina should not stir till she gave him a song, he did not care whether it was a catch or a moving ballad; but she would not submit. I wonder he did! When she came home and told me, I begged her not to judge of all the English from this specimen; but, by the way, she will find many
sea-captains that grow on dry land.
Sittinburn, Sept. 13, O. S.
Saturday morning, or yesterday, we did set out, and after a good passage of four hours and a half, landed at Dover. I begin to count my comforts, for I find their contraries thicken on my apprehension. I have, at least, done for a while with postchaises. My trunks were a little opened at Calais, and they would have stopped my medals, but with much ado and much three louis’s they let them pass. At Dover I found the benefit of the motions (235) having miscarried last year, for they respected Sir Robert’s son even in the person of his trunks. I came over in a yacht with East India
captains’ widows, a Catholic girl, coming from a convent to be married, with an Irish priest to guard her, who says he studied medicines for two years, and after that he studied learning for two years more. I have not brought over a word of French or Italian for common use; I have so taken pains to avoid affectation in this point, that I have failed Only now and then in a chi`a l`a! to the servants, who I
can scarce persuade myself yet are English. The COUntry-town (and you will believe me, who, you know, am not prejudiced) delights me; the populousness, the ease, the gaiety, and well-dressed every body amaze me. Canterbury, which on my setting out I thought deplorable, is a paradise, (236) to Modena, Reggio, Parma, etc. I had before discovered that there was nowhere but in England the distinction of middling people; I perceive now, that there is peculiar to us middling houses: how snug they are! I write to-night because I have time; to-morrow I get to London just as the post goes. Sir Robert is at Houghton. Good night till another post. You are quite well I
trust, but tell me so always. My loves to the Chutes (237) and all the etc.’s.
Oh! a story of Mr. Pope and the prince:-“Mr. Pope, you don’t love princes.” “Sir, I beg your pardon.” “Well, you don’t love kings, then!””Sir, I own I love the lion best before his claws are grown.” Was it possible to make a better answer to such simple questions? Adieu! my dearest child! Yours, ten thousand times over.
P. S. Patapan does not seem to regret his own country.
(231) This is the first of the series of letters addressed by Walpole to Sir Horace Man, British envoy at the court of Tuscany. The following prefatory note, entitled “Advertisement by the Author,” explains the views which led Walpole to preserve them for publication:-
“The following Collection of Letters, written very carelessly by a young man, had been preserved by the person to whom they were addressed. The author, some years after the date of the first, borrowed them, on account of some anecdotes interspersed. On the perusal, among many trifling relations and stories, which were only of consequence or amusing to the two persons concerned in the correspondence, he found some facts, characters, and news, which, though below the dignity of history, might prove entertaining to many other people: and knoing how much pleasure, not only himself, but many other persons have found in a series of private and familiar letters, he thought it worth his while to preserve these, as they contain something of the customs, fashions, politics, diversions, and private history of several years; which, if worthy of any existence, can be properly transmitted to posterity only in this manner.
“The reader will find a few pieces of intelligence which did not prove true; but which are retained here as the author heard and related them, lest correction should spoil the simple air of the narrative.* When the letters were written, they were never intended for public inspection; and now they are far from being thought correct, or more authentic than the general turn of epistolary correspondence admits. The author would sooner have burnt them than have taken the trouble to correct such errant trifles, which are here presented to the reader, with scarce any variation or omissions, but what private friendships and private history, or the great haste with which the letters were written, made indispensably necessary, as will plainly appear, not only by the unavoidable chasms, where the
originals were worn out or torn away, but by many idle relations and injudicious remarks and prejudices of a young man; for which @the only excuse the author can pretend to make, is, that as some future reader may possibly be as young as he was when he first wrote, he hopes they may be amused with what graver people (if into such hands they should fall) will very justly despise. Who ever has patience to peruse the series, will find, perhaps, that as the author grew older, some of his faults became less striking.” * They are marked in the notes.
(232) Tutor to the young Earl of Shrewsbury. [.Charles Talbot, fifteenth Earl of Shrewsbury, born December 1719. He married, in 1753, Elizabeth, daughter of the Hon. John Dormer, afterwards Lord Dormer, and died in
1787, without issue.]
(233) Italian singers. [Angelo Maria Monticelli, a celebrated singer of the same class as Veluti, was born at Milan in 1715, and first attained the celebrity which he enjoyed by singing with Mingotti at the Royal Opera at Naples in 1746. After visiting most of the cities of the Continent, he was induced by the favour with which he was received at Dresden to make that city his residence, until his death in 1764. Is the name of Amorevoli, borne by one of the first singers of that day, an assumed one, or an instance of name fatality? Certain it is,that Amorevole is a technical term in music somewhat analogous in its signification with Amabile and Amoroso.]
(234) An Italian abb`e, who directed and wrote the operas under the protection of Lord Middlesex.
(235) The motion in both houses of Parliament, 1740, for removing Sir Robert Walpole from the King’s councils. [See ante, p. 169 (Letter 30).)
(236) (“On! On! through meadows, managed like a garden, A paradise of hops and high production;
For, after years of travel by a bard in Countries of greater heat, but lesser suction, A green field is a sight which makes him pardon The absence of that more sublime construction, Which mixes up vines, olives, precipices, Glaciers, volcanos, oranges, and ices.”-Byron, 1823.)
(237) John Chute and Francis Whithed, Esqrs. two great friendls of Mr. W.’s, whom he had left at Florence, where he had been himself thirteen months, in the house of Mr. Mann, his relation and particular friend.
174 Letter 33
To Sir Horace Mann.
[The beginning of this letter is lost.)
****I had written and sealed my letter, but have since received another from you, dated Sept. 24. I read Sir Robert your account of Corsica; he seems to like hearing any account sent this way-indeed, they seem to have more superficial relations in general than I could have believed! You will oblige me, too, with any farther account of Bianca Colonna: (238) it is romantic, her history!
I am infinitely obliged to Mr. Chute for his kindness to me, and still more for his friendship to you. You cannot think how happy I am to hear that you are to keep him longer. You do not mention his having received my letter from Paris: I directed it to him, recommended to you. I would not have him think me capable of neglecting to answer his letter, which obliged me so much. I will deliver Amorevoli his letter the first time I see him.
Lord Islay (239) dined here; I mentioned Stosch’s (240) Maltese cats. Lord Islay begged I would write to Florence to have the largest male and female that can be got. If you will speak to Stosch, you will oblige me: they may come by sea. You cannot imagine my amazement at your not being invited to Riccardi’s ball; do tell me, when you know, what can be the meaning of it; it could not be inadvertence-nay, that were as bad! Adieu my dear child, once more!
(238A kind friend of Joan of Are, who headed the Corsican rebels against the Genoese.
(239) Archibald Campbell, Earl of Islay, and, on his brother’s death in 1743, Duke of Argyle.
(240) Baron Stosch, a Prussian virtuoso, and spy for the court of England on the Pretender. He had been driven from Rome, though it was suspected that he was a spy on both sides: he was a man of a most infamous character in every respect. according to the Biographic Universelle, the Baron “ne put s’acquitter de fonctions aussi d`elicates sans se voir expos`e `a des naines violentes, qui le forc`erent `a se retirer `a Florence;” where he died in 1757. He was one of the most skilful and industrious antiquaries of his time. A catalogue of his gems was drawn up by Winkelmann.]
175 Letter 34
To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
London, 1741.
My Dearest Harry,
Before I thank you for myself, I must thank you for that excessive good nature you showed in writing to poor Gray. I am less impatient to see you, as I find you are not the least altered, but have the same tender friendly temper you always had. I wanted much to see if you were still the same-but you are.
Don’t think of coming before your brother, he is too good to be left for any one living: besides, if it is possible, I will see you in the country. Don’t reproach me, and think nothing could draw me into the country: impatience to see a few friends has drawn me out of Italy; and Italy, Harry, is pleasanter than London. As I do not love living en famille so much as you (but then indeed my family is not like yours), I am hurried about getting myself a house; for I have so long lived single, that I do not much take to being confined with my own family.
You won’t find me much altered, I believe; at least, outwardly. ‘I am not grown a bit shorter, or a bit fatter, but am just the same long lean creature as usual. Then I talk no French., but to my footman; nor Italian, but to myself. What inward alterations may have happened to me, you will discover best; for you know ’tis said, one never knows that one’s self. I will answer, that that part of it that belongs to you, has not suffered the least change-I took care of that. For virt`u, I have a little to entertain you: it is my sole pleasure.-I am neither young enough nor old enough to be in love.
My dear Harry, will you take care and make my compliments to that charming Lady Conway, (241) who I hear is so charming, and to Miss Jenny [Conway], who I know is so? As for Miss Anne, (242) and her love as far as it is decent: tell her, decency is out of the question between us, that I love her without any restriction. I settled it yesterday with Miss Conway, that you three are brothers and sister to me, and that if you had been so, I could not love you better. I have so many cousins, and uncles and aunts, and bloods that grow in Norfolk, that if I had portioned out my affections to them, as they say I should, what a modicum would have fallen to
each!-So, to avoid fractions, I love my family in you three, their representatives. (243)
Adieu, my dear Harry! Direct to me at Downing Street. Good-bye! Yours ever.
(241) Isabella Fitzroy, daughter of Charles Duke of Grafton. She had been married in May, to(Walpole’s maternal cousin), Francis Seymour Conway, afterwards Earl of Hertford.(
242) Miss Anne conway, youngest sister of Henry Seymour Conway.
(243) They were first cousins by the mother’s side; Francis first Lord conway having married Charlotte, eldest daughter of John Shorter of Bybrook in Kent, sister to Catherine Shorter Lady Walpole.
176 Letter 35
To Sir Horace Mann.
Downing Street, Oct. 8, 1741, O. S.
I have been very near sealing this letter with black wax; Sir Robert came from Richmond on Sunday night extremely ill, and on Monday was in great danger. It was an ague and looseness; but they have stopped the latter, and converted the other into a fever, which they are curing with the bark. He came out of his chamber to-day for the first time, and is quite out of danger. One of the newspapers says, Sir R. W. is so bad that there are no Hopes of him.
The Pomfrets (244) are arrived; I went this morning to visit my lord, but did not find him. Lady Sophia is ill, and my earl (245) still at Paris, not coming. There is no news, nor a soul in town. One talks of nothing but distempers, like Sir Robert’s. My Lady Townsende (246) was reckoning up the other day the several things that have cured them; such a doctor so many, such a medicine, so many; but of all, the greatest number have found relief from the sudden deaths of their husbands.
The opera begins the day after the King’s birthday: the singers are not permitted to sing till on the stage, so no one has heard them, nor have I seen Amorovoli to give him the letter. The opera is to be on the French system of dancers, scenes, and dresses. The directors have already laid out great sums. They talk of a mob to silence the operas, as they did the French players; but it will be more difficult, for here half the young noblemen in town are engaged, and they will not be so easily persuaded to humour the taste of the mobility: in short, they have already retained several eminent lawyers from the Bear Garden (247) to plead their defence. I have had a long visit this morning from Don Benjamin: (248) he is one of the best kind of agreeable men I ever saw-quite fat and easy, with universal knowledge: he is in the greatest esteem at my court.
I am going to trouble you with some commissions. Miss Rich, (249) who is the finest singer except your sister (250) in the world, has begged me to get her some music, particularly “the office of the Virgin of the Seven Sorrows,” by Pergolesi, (251) the “Serva Padrona, il Pastor se torna Aprile,” and “Symplicetta Pastorella.” If you can send these easily, you will much oblige me. Do, too, let me know by your brother, what you have already laid out for me, that I may pay him. I was mentioning to Sir Robert some pictures in italy, which I wished him to buy; two particularly, if they can be got, would make him delight in you beyond measure. They are, a Madonna, and Child, by Dominichino, (252) in the palace Zambeccari, at Boloana, or Caliambec, (253) as they call it; Mr. Chute knows the picture. The other is by Corregio, in a convent at Parma, and reckoned the second best of that hand in the world. There are the Madonna and Child, St. Catherine, St. Matthew, and other figures: it is a most known picture, and has been engraved by Augustin Caracei. If you can employ any body privately to inquire about these pictures, be so good as to let me know; Sir R. would not scruple almost any price, for he has of neither hand: the convent is poor: the Zambeccari collection is to be sold, though, when I inquired after this picture, they would not set a price.
Lord Euston is to be married to Lady Dorothy Boyle (254) tomorrow, after so many delays. I have received your long letter, and Mr. Chute’s too, which I will answer next post. I wish I had the least politics to tell you; but all is silent. The opposition sav not a syllable, because they don’t know what the Court will think of public ‘affairs; and they will not take their part till they are sure of contradicting. The Court will not be very ready to declare themselves, as their present situation is every way disagreeable. All they say, is to throw the blame entirely on the obstinacy of the Austrian Court, who -,vould never stir or soften for themselves, while they thought any one obliged to defend them. All I know of news is, that Poland is leaning towards the acquisition side, like her neighbours, and proposes to get a lock of the Golden Fleece too. Is this any part of Gregory’s (255) negotiation? I delight in his Scapatta–“Scappata, no; egli solamente ha preso la posta.” My service to Seriston; he is charming.
How excessively obliging to go to Madame Grifoni’s (256) festino! but believe me, I shall be angry, if for my sake, you do things that are out of your character: don’t you know that I am infinitely fonder of that than of her?
I read your story of the Sposa Panciatici at table, to the great entertainment of the company, and Prince Craon’s epitaph, which Lord Cholmley (257) says he has heard before, and does not think it is the prince’s own; no more do I, it is too good; but make my compliments of thanks to him; he shall have his buckles the first opportunity I find of sending them. Say a thousand things for me to dear Mr. Chute, till I can say them next post for myself: till then, adieu. Yours ever.
(244) Thomas Earl of Pomfret, and Henrietta Louisa, his consort, and his two eldest daughters, Sophia and Charlotte, had been in Italy at the same time with Mr. Walpole. The Earl had been master of the horse to Queen Caroline, and the countess lady of the bedchamber.
(245) Henry Earl of Lincoln was at that time in love with Lady Sophia Fermor.
(246) Ethelreda Harrison, wife of Charles Lord Viscount Townsend, but parted from him.
(247) Boxers.
(248) Sir Benjamin Keene, ambassador at Madrid.
(249) Elizabeth, eldest daughter of Sir Robert Rich, since married to Sir George Lyttelton. [Eldest son of sir Thomas Lyttelton of hagley; in 1744 appointed one of the lords of the treasury, and in 1755, chancellor of the exchequer. In 1757,when he retired from public life, he was raised to the peerage, by the title of Lord Lyttelton. He died in 1773. His prose works were printed collectively in 1774; and his poems have given him a place among the British poets.]
(250) Mary, daughter of R. Mann, Esq. since married to Mr. Foote.
(251) Better known to all lovers of the works of this great composer as his ” Stabat mater.”-E.
(252) It will be seen by Walpole’s letter to Mr. Chute, of the 20th August 1743, now first published, that he eventually succeeded in purchasing this picture.-E.
(253) A corrupted pronunciation of the Bolognese.
(254) This unfortunate marriage is alluded to several times in the course of the subsequent letters. George Earl of Euston was the eldest son of Charles the second Duke of Grafton. He married, in 1741, Lady Dorothy Boyle, eldest daughter and co-heir of Richard, third and last heir of B(irlington. She died in 1742, from the effects, as it is supposed, of his brutal treatment of her. The details of his cruelty towards her are almost too revolting to be believed. In Sir Charles Hanbury Williams’s poems are some pretty lines on her death, beginning, “Behold one moment Dorothea’s fate.”-D.
(255) Gregorio ALdollo, an Asiatic, from being a prisoner at Leghorn, raised himself to be employed to the Great Duke by the King of Poland.
(256) Elisabetta Capponi, wife of signor Grifoni, a great beauty.
(257) George third Earl of Cholmondeley, had married Mary Walpole, only legitimate daughter of Sir Robert Walpole-D.
178 Letter 36
To Sir Horace Mann.
London, Oct. 13, 1741.
[The greatest part of this letter is wanting.]
**** The Town will come to town, and then one shall know something. Sir Robert is quite recovered.
Lady Pomfret I saw last night: Lady Sophia has been ill with a cold; her head is to be dressed French, and her body English, for which I am sorry; her figure is so fine in a robe: she is full as sorry as I am. Their trunks are not arrived yet, so they have not made their appearance. My lady told me a little out of humour that Uguecioni wrote her word, that you said her things could not be sent away yet: I understood from you, that very wisely, you would have nothing to do about them, so made no answer.
The parliament meets the fifteenth of November. **** Amorevoli has been with me two hours this evening; he is in panics about the first night, which is the next after the birthday.
I have taken a master, not to forget my Italian-don’t it look like returning to Florence’!-some time or other. Good night. Yours
ever and ever, my dear child.
178 Letter 37
To Sir Horace Mann.
London, Oct. 19, 1741, O. S.
[Great part wanting.]
I write to you up to the head and ears in dirt, straw, and unpacking. I have been opening all my cases from the Custom-house the whole morning; and-are not you glad?-every individual safe and undamaged. I am fitting up an apartment in Downing Street ***(258) was called in the morning, and was asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow, for I have frequently known him snore ere they had drawn his curtains, now never sleeps above an hour without waking; and he, who at dinner always forgot he was minister, and was more gay and thoughtless than all his company, now sits without speaking, and with his eyes fixed for an hour together. Judge if this is the Sir Robert you knew.
The politics of the age are entirely suspended; nothing is mentioned; but this bottling them up, will make them fly out with the greater violence the moment the parliament meets; till *** a word to you about this affair.
I am sorry to hear the Venetian journey of the Suares family; it does not look as if the Teresina was to marry PandOlfini; do you know, I have set my heart upon that match.
You are very good to the Pucci, to give her that advice, though I don’t suppose she will follow it. The Bolognese scheme *** In return for Amorevoli’s letter, he has given me two. I fancy it will be troublesome to you; so put his wife into some other method of correspondence with him.
Do you love puns? A pretty man of the age came into the playhouse the other night, booted and spurred: says he, “I am come to see Orpheus”-“And Euridice- You rid I see,” replied another gentleman.
(258) The omissions in these letters marked with stars occur in the original MS.-D.
179 Letter 38
To Sir Horace Mann.
London, Oct. 22, 1741, O. S.
Your brother has been with me this morning, and we have talked over your whole affair. He thinks it will be impossible to find any servant of the capacities you require, that will live with you under twenty, if not thirty pounds a-year, especially as he is not to have your clothes: then the expense of the journey to Florence, and of back again, in case you should not like him, will be considerable. He is for your taking one from Leghorn; but I, who know a little more of Leghorn than he does, should be apprehensive of any person from thence being in the interest of Goldsworthy, (259) or too attached to the merchants: in short, I mean, he would be liable to prove a spy upon you. We have agreed that I shall endeavour to find out a proper man, if such a one will go to you for twenty pounds a-year, and then you shall ficar from me. I am very sensible that Palombo (260) is not fit for you, and shall be extremely diligent in equipping you with such a one as you want. You know how much I want to be of service to you even in trifles.
I have been much diverted privately, for it is a secret that not a hundred persons know yet, and is not to be spoken of. Do but think on a duel between Winnington (261) and Augustus Townshend; (262) the latter a pert boy, captain of an Indiaman; the former declared cicisbeo to my Lady Townshend. The quarrel was something that Augustus had said of them; for since