understand them ourselves; and therefore, determining nothing but to have the old picture stuck in a thicket of pinnacles, we left it to you to find out the how. I believe it will be a little difficult; but as I suppose facere quia impossibile est, is full as easy as credere, why–you must do it.
The present journal of the world and of me stands thus: King George II does not go abroad–Some folks fear nephews,(440) as much as others hate uncles. The Castle of Dublin has carried the Armagh election by one vote only–which is thought equivalent to losing it by twenty. Mr. Pelham has been very ill, I thought of St. Patrick’s fire,(441) but it proved to be St. Antony’s. Our House of Commons, mere poachers, are piddling wit the torture of Leheup,(442) who extracted so much money out of the lottery.
The robber of Po Yang(443) is discovered, and I hope will be put to death, without my pity interfering, as it has done for Mr. Shorter’s servant,(444) or Lady Caroline Petersham’s, as it did for Maclean. In short, it was a heron. I like this better than thieves, as I believe the gang will be more easily destroyed, though not mentioned in the King’s speech or Fielding’s treatises.
Lord Clarendon, Lord Thanet, and Lord Burlington are dead. The second sent for his tailor, and asked him if he could make him a suit of mourning in eight hours: if he could, he would go into mourning for his brother Burlington(445)–but that he did not expect to live twelve hours himself.
There are two more volumes come out of Sir Charles Grandison. I shall detain them till the last is published, and not think I postpone much of your pleasure. For my part, I stopped at the fourth; I was so tired of sets of people getting together, and saying, “Pray, Miss, with whom are you in love?” and of mighty good young men that convert your Mr. M * * * *’s in the twinkling of a sermon!–You have not been much more diverted, I fear, with Hogarth’s book(446)–’tis very silly!–Palmyra(447) is come forth, and is a noble book; the prints finely engraved, and an admirable dissertation before it. My wonder is much abated: the Palmyrene empire which I had figured, shrunk to a small trading city with some magnificent public buildings out of proportion to the dignity of the place.
The operas succeed pretty well; and music has so much recovered its power of charming that there is started up a burletta at Covent Garden,(448) that has half the vogue of the old Beggar’s Opera: indeed there is a soubrette, called the Niccolina, who, besides being pretty, has more vivacity and variety of humour than ever existed in any creature.
(438) Mr. Bentley was now in the island of Jersey; whither he had retired on account of the derangement of his affairs, and whither all the following letters are addressed to him.
(439) A nurseryman at Twickenham. He had served Pope. Mr. Walpole telling him he Would have his trees planted irregularly, he said, “Yes, Sir, I understand: you would have them hung down somewhat poetical.”
(440) Frederick King of Prussia, nephew to George II. Mr. Walpole alludes to himself, who was upon bad terms with his uncle Horace Walpole, afterwards Lord Walpole of Wolterton.
(441) Alluding to the disturbances and opposition to government, which took place in Ireland during the viceroyalty of Lionel Duke of Dorset.
(442) In framing the act for the purchase of the Sloane Museum and the Harleian Manuscripts by lottery Mr. Pelham, who disapproved of this financial expedient, as tending to foster a spirit of gambling, had taken care to restrict the number of tickets to be sold to any single individual. Notwithstanding which, Mr. Leheup, one of the commissioners of the lottery, had sold to one person, under names which he knew to be fictitious, between two and three hundred tickets. The subject was brought before the House of Commons, where a series of resolutions was passed against Mr. Leheup, accompanied by an address to the King, praying that the offender might be prosecuted. The result was, that he was prosecuted by the Attorney-general, and fined one thousand pounds.-E.
(443) Mr. Walpole had given this Chinese name to a pond of gold fish at Strawberry Hill.
(444) A Swiss servant of Erasmus Shorter’s, maternal uncle to Mr. Walpole, who was not without suspicion of having hastened his master’s death.
(445) The Countesses of Thanet and Burlington were sisters.
(446) The Analysis of Beauty.
(447) “The Ruins of Palmyra, otherwise Tadmor in the Desert,” by Robert Wood, Esq.; a splendid volume in folio, with a number of elegant engravings. In 1757, Mr. Wood published a similar description of the “Ruins of Balbec.”-E.
(448) Harlequin Sorcerer.-E.
191 Letter 90
To Sir Horace Mann.
Arlington Street, Jan. 28, 1754.
Her Serene Highness, the great Duchess Bianca Capello,(449) is arrived safe at a palace lately taken for her in Arlington Street. She has been much visited by the quality and gentry, and pleases universally by the graces of her person and comeliness of her deportment–my dear child, this is the least that the newspapers would say of the charming Bianca. I, who feel all the agreeableness of your manner, must say a great deal more, or should say a great deal more, but I can only commend the picture enough, not you. The head is painted equal to Titian; and though done, I suppose, after the ‘clock had struck five-and-thirty, yet she retains a great share of beauty. I have bespoken a frame for her, with the grand-ducal coronet at top, her story on a label at bottom, which Gray is to compose in Latin, as short and expressive as Tacitus, (one is lucky when one can bespeak and have executed such an inscription!) the Medici arms on one side, and the Capello’s on the other. I must tell you a critical discovery of mine apropos: in an old book of Venetian arms, there are two coats of Capello, who from their name bear a hat; on one of them is added a fleur-de-lis on a blue ball, which I am persuaded was given to the family by the Great Duke, in consideration of this alliance; the Medicis, you know, bore such a badge at the top of their own arms. This discovery I made by a talisman, which Mr. Chute calls the Sortes Walpolianae, by which I find every thing I want, `a pointe nomm`ee, whenever I dip for it. This discovery, indeed, is almost of that kind which I call Serendipity, a very expressive word, which, as I have nothing better to tell you, I shall endeavour to explain to you: you will understand it better by the derivation than by the definition. I once read a silly fairy tale, called “The Three Princes of Serendip;” as their Highnesses travelled, they were always making discoveries, by accidents and sagacity, of things which they were not in quest of: for instance, one of them discovered that a mule blind of the right eye had travelled the same road lately, because the grass was eaten only on the left side, where it was worse than on the right–now do you understand Serendipity? One of the most remarkable instances of this accidental Sagacity, (for you must observe that no discovery of a thing you are looking for comes under this description,) was of my Lord Shaftsbury, who, happening to dine at Lord Chancellor Clarendon’s, found out the marriage of the Duke of York and Mrs. Hyde, by the respect with which her mother treated her at table. I will send you the inscription in my next letter; you see I endeavour to grace your present as it deserves.
Your brother would have me say something of my opinion about your idea of taking the name of Guise;(450) but he has written so fully that I can only assure you in addition, that I am stronger even than he is against it, and cannot allow of your reasoning on families, because, however families may be prejudiced about them, and however foreigners (I mean, great foreigners) here may have those prejudices too, vet they never operate here, where there is any one reason to counterbalance them. A minister who has the least disposition to promote a creature of his, and to set aside a Talbot or a Nevil, will at one breath puff away a genealogy that would reach from hence to Herenhausen. I know a great foreigner, who always says that my Lord Denbigh is the best gentleman in England, because he is descended from the old Counts of Hapsburg; and yet my Lord Denbigh, (and though he is descended from what one should think of much more consequence here, the old Counts of Denbigh,) has for many years wanted a place or a pension, as much as if he were only what I think the first Count of Hapsburg was, the Emperor’s butler. Your instance of the Venetians refusing to receive Valenti can have no weight: Venice might bully a Duke of Mantua, but what would all her heralds signify against a British envoy? In short, what weight do you think family has here, when the very last minister whom we have despatched is Sir James Gray,–nay, and who has already been in a public character at Venice! His father was first a box-keeper, and then footman to James the Second; and this is the man exchanged against the Prince de San Severino! One of my father’s maxims was quieta non movere; and he was a wise man in that his day. My dear child, if you will suffer me to conclude with a pun, content yourself with your Manhood and Tuscany: it would be thought injustice to remove you from thence for any body else: when once you shift about, you lose the benefit of prescription, and subject yourself to a thousand accidents. I speak very seriously; I know the carte du pais.
We have no news: the flames in Ireland are stifled, I don’t say extinguished, by adjourning the Parliament, which is to be prorogued. A catalogue of dismissions was sent over thither, but the Lord Lieutenant durst not venture to put them in execution. We are sending a strong squadron to the East Indies, which may possibly bring back a war with France, especially as we are going to ask money of our Parliament for the equipment. We abound in diversions, which flourish exceedingly on the demise of politics. There are no less than five operas every week, three of which are burlettas; a very bad company, except the Niccolina, who beats all the actors and actresses I ever saw for vivacity and variety. We had a good set four years ago, which did not take at all; but these being at the playhouse, and at play prices, the people, instead of resenting it, as was expected, are transported with them, call them their own operas, and I will not swear that they do not take them for English operas. They huzzaed the King twice the other night, for bespeaking one on the night of the Haymarket opera.
I am glad you are aware of Miss Pitt: pray continue your awaredom: I assure you, before she set out for Italy, she was qualified to go any Italian length of passion. Her very first slip was with her eldest brother: and it is not her fault that she has not made still blacker trips. Never mention this, and forget it as soon as she is gone from Florence. Adieu!
(449) Bianca Capello was the daughter of a noble Venetian. She had been seduced and carried off from her father’s house by a young Florentine of low origin, named Peter Bonaventuri. They came to Florence, where she became the mistress of the Grand Duke of Tuscany, Francis of Medicis. He was very anxious to have a child by her; upon which she pretended to be brought to bed of a son, who had in reality been bought of one of the lower orders. He was called Don Anthony of Medicis. In order to prevent the Grand Duke from discovering her fraud, Bianca caused several of the persons who had had a part in the deception to be assassinated. At length the wife of Francis, the Archduchess Joan of Austria, died in childbed; and Bianca intrigued so successfully, that she persuaded her lover to marry her. Her marriage with the Grand Duke took place on the 12th of October, 1579, and was so sumptuous that it cost one hundred thousand Florentine ducats. Her tyranny and rapacity soon made her universally hated. She is supposed, as well as her husband, to have died by poison, administered to them through the means of his brother, the Cardinal Ferdinand of Medicis, who succeeded him as Grand I)uke.-D.
(451) Mr. Mann’s mother was an heiress of that house.
194 Letter 91
To Richard Bentley, Esq.
Arlington Street, March 2, 1754.
After calling two or three times without finding him, I wrote yesterday to Lord Granville,’ and received a most gracious answer, but desiring to see me. I went. He repeated all your history with him, and mentioned your vivacity at parting; however, consented to give you the apartment, with great good humour, and said he would write to his bailiff; and added, laughing, that he had an old cross housekeeper, who had regularly quarrelled with all his grantees. It is well that some of your desires, though unfortunately the most trifling, depend on me alone, as those at least are sure of being executed. By Tuesday’s coach there will go to Southampton two orange trees, two Arabian jasmines, some tuberose roots, and plenty of cypress seeds, which last I send you in lieu of the olive trees, none of which are yet come over.
The weather grows fine, and I have resumed little flights to Strawberry. I carried George Montagu thither, who was in raptures, and screamed, and hooped and hollaed, and danced, and crossed himself a thousand times over. He returns to-morrow to Greatworth, and I fear will give himself up entirely to country squirehood. But what will you say to greater honour which Strawberry has received? Nolkejumskoi(453) has been to see it, and liked the windows and staircase. I can’t conceive how he entered it. I should have figured him like Gulliver cutting down some of the largest oaks in Windsor Forest to make joint-stools, in order to straddle over the battlements and peep in at the windows of Lilliput. I can’t deny myself this reflection (even though he liked Strawberry,) as he has not employed you as an architect.
Still there is little news. To-day it is said that Lord George Sackville is summoned in haste from Ireland, where the grand juries are going to petition for the resitting Of the Parliament. Hitherto they have done nothing but invent satirical healths, which I believe gratify a taste more peculiar to Ireland than politics, drinking. We have had one Considerable day in the House of Commons here. Lord Egmont, in a very long and fine speech, opposed a new Mutiny-bill for the troops going to the East Indies (which I believe occasioned the reports with you of an approaching war.) Mr. Conway got infinite reputation by a most charming speech in answer to him, in which he displayed a system of military learning, which was at once new, striking and entertaining.(454) I had carried Monsieur de Gisors thither, who began to take notes of all I explained to him: but I begged he would not; for, the question regarding French politics, I concluded the Speaker would never have done storming at the Gaulls collecting intelligence in the very senate-house. Lord Holderness made a magnificent ball for these foreigners last week: there were a hundred and forty people, and most stayed supper. Two of my Frenchmen learnt country-dances, and succeeded very well. T’other night they danced minuets for the entertainment of the King at the masquerade; and then he sent for Lady Coventry to dance: it was quite like Herodias-and I believe if he had offered her a boon, she would have chosen the head of St. John–I believe I told you of her passion for the young Lord Bolingbroke.
Dr. Mead is dead, and his collection going to be sold. I fear I have not virtue enough to resist his miniatures. I shall be ruined!(455)
I shall tell you a new instance of the Sortes Walpolianae: I lately bought an old volume of pamphlets; I found at the end a history of the Dukes of Lorrain, and with that an account of a series of their medals, of which, says the author, there are but two sets in England. It so happens that I bought a set above ten years ago at Lord Oxford’s sale; and on examination I found the Duchess, wife of Duke Ren`e,(456) has a headdress, allowing for being modernized, as the medals are modern, which is evidently the same with that figure in my Marriage of Henry VI. which I had imagined was of her. It is said to be taken from her tomb at Angiers; and that I might not decide too quickly en connoisseur, I have sent to Angiers for a draught of the tomb.
Poor Mr. Chute was here yesterday, the first going out after a confinement of thirteen weeks; but he is pretty well. We have determined upon the plan for the library, which we find will fall in exactly with the proportions of the room, with no variations from the little door-case of St. Paul’s, but widening the larger arches. I believe I shall beg your assistance again about the chimney-piece and ceiling; but I can decide nothing till I have been again at Strawberry. Adieu! my dear Sir.
(452) John Earl Granville, then secretary of state, had an estate in Jersey.
(453) The Duke of Cumberland.-E.
(454) Mr. Conway’s speech will be found in the Parliamentary History, vol. xv. p. 282. The object of the bill was to extend the operation of the Mutiny act to the troops in the service of the East India Company. This question was strongly combated, on constitutional grounds, as conferring on a trading body powers which ought to be viewed with jealousy, when vested even in the head of the state. The second reading was carried by 245 against 50.-E.
(455) Dr. Mead’s pictures were chosen with so much judgment, that at the sale of them in this month, they produced 3,417 pounds, 11 shillings, nearly seven hundred pounds more than he gave for them.-E.
(456) Duke of Anjou, father of the unfortunate Margaret of Anjou, Queen of Henry the Sixth of England.-E.
196 Letter 92
To Richard Bentley, Esq.
Arlington Street, March 6, 1754.
My dear Sir,
You will be surprised at my writing again so very soon; but unpleasant as it is to be the bearer of ill news,(457) I flattered myself that you would endure it better from me, than to be shocked with it from an indifferent hand, who would not have the same management for your tenderness and delicacy as I naturally shall, who always feel for you, and on this occasion with you! You are very unfortunate: you have not many real friends, and you lose–for I must tell it you, the chief of them! indeed, the only one who could have been of real use to you–for what can I do, but wish, and attempt, and miscarry?- -or from whom could I have hoped assistance for you, or warmth for myself and my friends, but from the friend I have this morning lost?–But it is too selfish to be talking of our losses, when Britain, Europe, the world, the King, Jack Roberts,(458) Lord Barnard, have lost their guardian angel. What are private misfortunes to the affliction of one’s country? or how inglorious is an Englishman to bewail himself, when a true patriot should be acting for the good of mankind!- -Indeed, if it is possible to feel any comfort, it is from seeing how many true Englishmen, how many true Scotchmen are zealous to replace the loss, and snatch at the rudder of the state, amidst this storm and danger! Oh! my friend, how will your heart glow with melancholy admiration, when I tell you, that even the poor Duke of Newcastle himself conquers the torrent of his grief, and has promised Mrs. Betty Spence,(459) and Mr. Griham the apothecary, that, rather than abandon England to its evil genius, he will even submit to be lord treasurer himself? My Lord Chancellor, too, is said to be willing to devote himself in the same manner for the good of his country. Lord Hartington(460) is the most inconsolable of all; and when Mrs. Molly Bodens(461) and Mrs. Garrick were entreated by some of the cabinet council to ask him whom he wished to have minister, the only answer they could draw from him was, “a Whig! a Whig!” As for Lord B. I may truly say, he is humbled and licks the dust; for his tongue, which never used to hang below the waistband of his breeches, is now dropped down to his shoe-buckles; and had not Mr. Stone assured him that if the worst came to the worst, they could but make their fortunes under another family, I don’t know whether he would not have despaired of the commonwealth. But though I sincerely pity so good a citizen, I cannot help feeling most for poor Lord Holderness, who sees a scheme of glory dashed which would have added new lustre to the British annals and have transmitted the name D’Arcy down to latest posterity. He had but just taken Mr. Mason the poet into his house to write his deserts; and he had just reason to expect that the secretary’s office would have gained a superiority over that of France and Italy, which was unknown even to Walsingham.
I had written thus far, and perhaps should have elegized on for a page or two further, when Harry, who has no idea of the dignity of grief, blundered in, with satisfaction in his countenance, and thrust two packets from you into my hand.- -Alas! he little knew that I was incapable of tasting any satisfaction but in the indulgence of my concern.–I was once going to commit them to the devouring flames, lest any light or vain sentence should tempt me to smile but my turn for true philosophy checked my hand, and made me determine to prove that I could at once launch into the bosom of pleasure and be insensible to it.-I have conquered; I have read your letters, and yet I think of nothing but Mr. Pelham’s death! Could Lady Catherine(462) do thus @ Could she receive a love-letter from Mr. Brown, and yet think only on her breathless Lord?
Thursday,
I wrote the above last night, and have stayed as late as I could this evening, that I might be able to tell you who the person is in whom all the world is to discover the proper qualities for replacing the national loss. But, alas! the experience of two @,whole days has showed that the misfortune is irreparable; and I don’t know whether the elegies on his death will not be finished before there be any occasion for congratulations to his successor. The mystery is profound. How shocking it will be if things should go on just as they are! I mean by that, how mortifying if it is discovered, that when all the world thought Mr. Pelham did and could alone maintain the calm and carry on the government, even he was not necessary, and that it was the calm and the government that carried on themselves! However, this is not my opinion.–I believe all this will make a party.(453)
Good night! here are two more new plays: Constantine,(464) the better of them, expired the fourth night at Covent-garden. Virginia,(465) by Garrick’s acting and popularity, flourishes still: he has written a remarkably good epilogue to it. Lord Bolingbroke is come forth in five pompous quartos, two and a half new and most unorthodox.(466) Warburton is resolved to answer, and the bishops not to answer him. I have not had a moment to look into it. Good night!
(457) This is an ironic letter on the death of Henry Pelham, first lord of the treasury and chancellor of the exchequer, with whom Mr. Walpole was on ill terms.
(458) John Roberts, Esq. secretary to Mr. Pelham.
(459) Companion to the Duchess of Newcastle. [This lady was related to the Rev. Joseph Spence, author of “Polymetis.” She died in 1764, after being the friend and companion of the Duchess of Newcastle for more than forty-five years.]
(460) William, afterwards fourth Duke of Devonshire.
(461) Companion of Lady Burlington, Lord Hartington’s mother-in-law.
(462) Lady Catherine Pelham, the widow of Mr. Pelham.-E.
(463) Mr. Walpole, when young, loved faction; and Mr. Bentley one day saying, ” that he believed certain opinions would make a sect,” Mr. W. said eagerly, “Will they make a party?”
(464) “Constantine,” a tragedy was written by the Rev. Philip Francis, the translator of Horace and Demosthenes, and father of Sir Philip Francis, the reputed author of the Letters of Junius. He also wrote “Eugenia,” a tragedy; but as a dramatic author he was not very successful.-E.
(465) “Virginia” was written by Henry Crisp, a clerk in the Custom-house. It was acted at Drury Lane with some success; owing chiefly to the excellence of the performers.-E.
(466) A splendid edition of Lord Bolingbroke’s Works, in five volumes, quarto, having been published on the very day of Mr. Pelham’s death, Garrick wrote an ode on the occasion, which contains the following stanza:-
“The same sad morn, to Church and State (So for our sins ’twas fix’d by fate)
A double shock was given:
Black as the regions of the North,
St. John’s fell genius issued forth, And Pelham’s fled to heaven!”
It was upon the appearance of this edition of Lord Bolingbroke’s works, edited by David Mallet, that Dr. Johnson pronounced this memorable sentence upon both author and editor:–“Sir, he was a scoundrel and a coward; a scoundrel, for charging a blunderbuss against religion and morality; a coward, because he had no resolution to fire it off himself, but left half-a-crown to a beggarly Scotchman to draw the trigger after his death.”-E.
198 Letter 93
To Sir Horace Mann.
Arlington Street, March 7, 1754.
You will little have expected, my dear Sir, the great event that happened yesterday. Mr. Pelham(467) is dead! all that calm, that supineness, of which I have lately talked to you so much, is at an end! there is no heir to such luck as his. The whole people of England can never agree a second time upon the same person for the residence of infallibility; and though so many have found their interest in making Mr. Pelham the fermier-general for their Venality, yet almost all have found too, that it lowered their prices to have but one purchaser. He could not have died at a more critical time: all the elections were settled, all bargains made, and much money advanced: and by the way, though there never was so little a party, or so little to be made by a seat in Parliament, either with regard to profit or fame, there never was such established bribery, or so profuse. And as every thing was settled by his life, so every thing is thrown into confusion by his death: the difficulty Of naming, or of who should name the successor, is almost insurmountable–for you are not such a transmontane as to imagine that the, person who must sign the warrant will have the filling it up. The three apparent candidates are Fox, Pitt, and Murray; all three -with such encumbrances on their hopes as make them very desperate. The Chancellor hates Fox; the Duke of Newcastle does not (I don’t say, love him, but to speak in the proper phrase, does not) pretend to love him: the Scotch abominate him, and they and the Jacobites make use of his connexion with the Duke to represent him as formidable: the Princess cannot approve him for the same reason: the law, as in duty bound to the Chancellor and to Murray, and to themselves, whom he always attacks, must dislike him. He has his parts and the Whigs, and the seeming right of succession. Pitt has no health, no party, and has, what in this case is allowed to operate, the King’s negative. Murray is a Scotchman, and it has been suspected, of the worst dye: add a little of the Chancellor’s jealousy–all three are obnoxious to the probability of the other two being disobliged by a preference. There is no doubt but the Chancellor and the Duke of Newcastle will endeavour to secure their own power, by giving an exclusion to Fox: each of them has even been talked of for Lord Treasurer; I say talked of, though Mr. Pelham died but yesterday; but you can’t imagine how much a million of people can talk in a day on such a subject! It was even much imagined yesterday, that Sir George Lee would be the Hulla, to wed the post, till things are ripe for divorcing him again: he is an unexceptionable man, sensible, of good character, the ostensible favourite of the Princess, and obnoxious to no set of men: for though he changed ridiculously quick on the Prince’s death, yet as every body changed with him, it offended nobody; and what is a better reason for promoting him now, it would offend nobody to turn him out again.
In this buzz is all the world at present: as the plot thickens or opens, you shall hear more. In the mean time you will not dislike to know a little of the circumstances of this death. Mr. Pelham was not sixty-one; his florid, healthy constitution promised long life, and his uninterrupted good fortune as long power; yet the one hastened his end, and the other was enjoyed in its full tranquillity but three poor years! i should not say, enjoyed, for such was his peevishness and suspicions, that the lightest trifles could poison all that stream of happiness! he was careless of his health, most intemperate in eating, and used no exercise. All this had naturally thrown him into a most scorbutic habit, for which last summer he went to Scarborough, but stayed there only a month, which would not have cleansed a scorbutic kitten. The sea-air increased his appetite, and his flatterers pampered it at their seats on the road. He returned more distempered, and fell into a succession of boils, fevers, and St. Anthony’s fire–indeed, I think, into such a carbuncular state of blood as carried off my brother. He had recovered enough to come to the House of Commons; and last Friday walked in the Park till he put himself into an immense sweat; in that sweat he stood at a window to look at horses, ate immoderately at dinner, relapsed at six that evening, and died yesterday morning (Wednesday) a quarter before six. His will was to be opened to-day; he is certainly dead far from rich.(468) There arc great lamentations, some joy, some disappointments, and much expectation. As a person who loves to write history, better than to act in it, you will easily believe that I confine my sensations on the occasion chiefly to observation-at least, my care that posterity may know all about it prevents my indulging any immoderate (grief; consequently I am as well as can be expected, and ever yours, etc.
(467) Henry Pelham, chancellor of the exchequer, and first commissioner of the treasury; only brother of Thomas Duke of Newcastle.
(468) Walpole, almost the only author who has treated the memory of Mr. Pelham with disrespect, mentions to his honour, that he “lived without abusing his power, and died poor.” See Memoires, vol. i. p. 332. By this expression, says Coxe, the reader will be reminded of a curious coincidence in the concluding lines of the eulogium inscribed on the base of Mr. Pitt’s statue, by his friend and pupil, the Right Honourable George Canning, “Dispensing, for more than twenty years, the favours of the crown, he lived without ostentation, and he died poor.”-E.
200 Letter 94
To Richard Bentley, Esq.
Arlington Street, March 14, 1754.
In the confusion of things, I last week hazarded a free letter to you by the common post. The confusion is by no means ceased. However, as some circumstances may have rendered a desire of intelligence necessary, I send this by the coach, with the last volume of Sir Charles Grandison, for its chaperon.
After all the world has been named for chancellor of the exchequer, and my Lord Chief Justice Lee, who is no part of the world, really made so pro tempore; Lord Hartington went to notify to Mr. Fox, that the cabinet council having given it as their unanimous opinion to the King, that the Duke of Newcastle should be at the head of the treasury, and he (Mr. Fox) secretary of state with the management of the House of Commons; his grace, who had submitted to so oracular a sentence, hoped Mr. Fox would not refuse to concur in so salutary a measure; and assured him, that Though the Duke would reserve the sole disposition of the secret service-money, his grace would bestow his entire confidence on Mr. Fox, and acquaint him with the most minute details of that service. Mr. Fox bowed and obeyed- -and, as a preliminary step, received the Chancellor’s(469) absolution. From thence he attended his–and our new master. But either grief for his brother’s death, or joy for it, had so intoxicated the new maitre du palais, that he would not ratify any one of the conditions he had imposed: and though my Lord Hartington’s virtue interposed, and remonstrated on the purport of the message he had carried, the Duke persisted in assuming the whole and undivided power himself, and left Mr. Fox no choice, but of obeying or disobeying, as he might choose. This produced the next day a letter from Mr. Fox, carried by Lord Hartington, in which he refused secretary of state, and pinned down the lie with which the new ministry is to commence. It was tried to be patched up at the Chancellor’s on Friday night, though ineffectually: and yesterday morning Mr. Fox in an audience desired to remain secretary at war. The Duke immediately kissed hands-declared, in the most unusual manner, universal minister. Legge was to be chancellor of the exchequer: but I can’t tell whether that disposition will hold, as Lord Duplin is proclaimed the acting favourite. The German Sir Thomas Robinson was thought on for the secretary’s seals; but has just sense enough to be unwilling to accept them under so ridiculous an administration. This is the first act of the comedy.
On Friday this august remnant of the Pelhams went to court for the first time. At the foot of the stairs he cried and sunk down: the yeomen of the guard were forced to drag him up under the arms. When the closet-door opened, he flung himself at his length at the King’s feet, sobbed, and cried “God bless your Majesty! God preserve your Majesty,” and lay there howling and embracing the King’s knees, with one foot so extended, that Lord Coventry, who was luckily in waiting, and begged the standers-by to retire with “For God’s sake, gentlemen, don’t look at a great man in distress,” endeavouring to shut the door, caught his grace’s foot, and made him roar out with pain.
You can have no notion of what points of ceremony have been agitated about the ears of the family. George Selwyn was told that my Lady Catharine had not shed one tear: “And pray,” said he, “don’t she intend it?” It is settled that Mrs. Watson is not to cry till she is brought-to-bed.
You love George Selwyn’s bon-mots: this crisis has redoubled them: here is one of his best. My Lord Chancellor is to be Earl of Clarendon–“Yes,” said Selwyn, from the very summit of the whites of his demure eyes; “and I suppose he will get the title of Rochester for his son-in-law, my Lord Anson.” Do you think he will ever lose the title of Lord Rochester?
I expected that we should have been overrun with elegies and panegyrics: indeed, I comforted myself, that one word in all of them would atone for the rest–the late Mr. Pelham. But the world seems to allow that their universal attachment and submission was universal interestedness; there has not been published a single encomium. Orator Henley alone has held forth in his praise:-yesterday it was on charming Lady Catherine. Don’t you think it should have been in these words, in his usual style? Oratory-chapel,–Right reason; madness; charming Lady Catherine; hell fire,” etc.
Monday, March 18.
Almost as extraordinary news as our political, is, that it has snowed ten days successively, and most part of each day: it is living in Muscovy, amid ice and revolutions: I hope lodgings will begin to let a little dear in Siberia! Beckford and Delaval, two celebrated partisans, met lately at Shaftesbury, where they oppose one another: the latter said:
“Art thou the man whom men famed Beckford call?”
T’other replied,
“Art thou the much more famous Delaval?”
But to leave politics and change of ministries, and to come to something of real consequence, I must apply you to my library ceiling, of which I send you some rudiments. I propose to have it all painted by Clermont; the principal part in chiaro scuro, on the design which you drew for the Paraclete: but as that pattern would be surfeiting, so often repeated in an extension of twenty feet by thirty, I propose to break and enliven it by compartments in colours, according to the enclosed sketch, which you must adjust and dimension. Adieu!
(469) With whom he was at variance.
‘202 Letter 95
To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street, March 19, 1754.
You will live in the country, and then you are amazed that people use you ill. Don’t mistake me: I don’t mean that you deserve to be ill-treated for living in the country; at least only by those who love and miss you; but if you inhabited the town a little, you would not quite so much expect uprightness, nor be so surprised at ingratitude, and . neglect. I am far from disposed to justify the great C`u; but when you had declined being his servant, do you wonder that he will not serve your friends! I will tell you what, if the news of to-day holds at all, which is what no one piece of news of this last fortnight has done, you may be worse used by your cousin as soon as you please; for he is one of the first upon the list for secretary of state, in the room of the Duke of Newcastle. Now again, are you such a rusticated animal as to suppose that the Duke is dismissed for inability, on the death of his brother. So far from it, it is already certainly known that it was he who supported Mr. Pelham, and the impediments and rubs thrown in the way of’ absolute power long ago were the effects of the latter’s timidity and irresolution. The Duke, freed from that clog, has declared himself sole minister, and the King has kissed his hand upon it. Mr. Fox, who was the only man in England that objected to this plan, is to be sent to a prison which is building on the coast of Sussex, after the model of Fort l’Ev`eque, under the direction of Mr. Taaffe.
Harry Legge is to be chancellor of the exchequer, but the declared favour rests on Lord Duplin. Sir George Lyttelton is to be treasurer of the navy. The parliament is to be dissolved on the fourth of next month: till when, I suppose, none of the changes will take place. These are the politics of the day; but as they are a little fluctuating, notwithstanding the steadiness of the new first minister, I will not answer that they will hold true to Greatworth: nothing lasts now but the bad weather.
I went two days ago, with Lady Ailesbury, and Mr. Conway, and Miss Anne, to hear the rehearsal of Mrs. Clive’s new farce, which is very droll, with pretty music.
202 Letter 96
To Sir Horace Mann.
Arlington Street, March 28, 1754.
I promised to write to you again soon, and therefore I do: that Is, I stick to the letter, not to the essence; for I not Only have very little to write, but your brother has, I believe, already told you all that has happened. Mr. Fox received almost at once a testimonial that he was the most proper for minister, and a proof that he was not to be so. He on the Tuesday consented to be secretary of state, with the management of the House of Commons, and the very next day refused to be the former, as he found he was not to have the latter. He remains secretary at war, in rupture with the Duke of Newcastle, (who, you know, has taken the treasury,) but declaring against opposition. That Duke is omnipotent; and, to show that power, makes use of nothing but machines. Sir Thomas Robinson is secretary of state; Mr. Legge, chancellor of the exchequer; Lord Duplin,(470) the agent of business.(471) Yesterday an odd event happened: Lord Gower resigned the privy seal: it had been for some time promised to the Duke of Rutland,(472) who having been reported dead, and who really having voided a quarry of stones, is come to town; and his brother, a Lord William Manners, better known in the groom-porter’s annals than in those of Europe, and the whole Manners family having intimated to the Duke of Newcastle that unless Lord Gower was dismissed in a month, and the Duke of Rutland instated in his place, they would oppose the prosperous dawn of the new ministry, that poor Earl, who is inarticulate with the palsy, has been drawn into a resignation, and is the first sacrifice to the spirit of the new administration.(473) You will very likely not understand such politics as these, but they are the best we have.
Our old good-humoured friend Prince Craon is dead; don’t you think that the Princess will not still despair of looking well in weeds! My Lord Orford’s grandmother(474) is dead too; and after her husband’s death, (whose life, I believe, she has long known to be not worth a farthing,) has left every thing to her grandson. This makes me very happy, for I had apprehended, from Lord Orford’s indolence and inattention, and from his mother’s cunning and attention, that she would have wriggled herself into the best clause in the will; but she is not mentioned in it, and the Houghton pictures may still be saved. Adieu! my dear Sir; I don’t call this a letter, but a codicil to my last: one can’t write volumes on trifling events.
(470 Eldest son of William Hay, Earl of Kinnoul.
(471) For an account of the political changes which took place upon the death of Mr. Pelham, see Lord Dover’s Preface to these Letters, vol. i. p. 29.-E.
(472) John Manners, third Duke of Rutland, the father of the more celebrated Lord Granby. He died in 1779, at the age of eighty-three.-D.
(473) The Duke of Rutland did not succeed to the privy seal; but Charles Spencer, second Duke of Marlborough.-D.
(474) Margaret Tuckfield, second wife of Samuel Rolle, of Haynton in Devonshire; by whom she was mother of Margaret Countess of Orford, and afterwards married to John Harris, of Hayne in Devonshire, master of the household to the King.
204 Letter 97
To Sir Horace Mann.
Strawberry Hill, April 24, 1754.
Before I received your letter of March 29th, I had already told you the state of our politics, as they seemed fixed–at least for the present. The Duke of Newcastle is alone and all powerful, and, I suppose, smiles at those who thought that we must be governed by a succession of geniuses. I don’t know whether there arc not more parts in governing without genius!- -be it as it will, all the world acquiesces: he has placed all the orators in whatever offices they demanded, and the New Parliament, which is almost chosen, will not probably degenerate from the complaisance of its predecessor. Which of the popes was it, who being chosen for his insufficience, said, “I could not have believed that it was so easy to govern!” You will forgive my smiling in my turn at your begging me to lay aside family considerations, and tell you if I do not think my uncle the fittest subject for a first minister. My dear child, you have forgot that three years are past since I so totally laid aside all family considerations, as not to speak or even bow to my uncle. Since the affair of Lord Orford and Miss Nichol], I have not had the least intercourse with the Pigwiggin branch; and should be very sorry if there were any person in the world but you, and my uncle himself, who thought him proper for minister.
I believe there is no manner of intention of sending Lord Albemarle to Ireland: the style toward that island is extremely lofty; and after some faint proposals of giving them some agreeable governor, violent measures have been resumed: the Speaker is removed from being chancellor of the exchequer, more of his friends are displaced, and the Primate, with the Chancellor and Lord Besborough, are again nominated lords Justices. These measures must oppress the Irish spirit, or, what is more likely, inflame it to despair. Lord Rochford certainly returns to Turin. General Wall, who was in the highest favour here, and who was really grown fond of England- -not at all to the prejudice of doing us what hurt he could in his public character, is recalled, to succeed Don Carvalho and Lancaster, as secretary of state for foreign affairs. If he regrets England too much, may not he think of taking Ireland in his way back?
I shall fill up the remainder of an empty letter with transcribing some sentences which have diverted me in a very foolish vulgar book of travels, lately published by one Drummond,(475) consul at Aleppo. Speaking of Florence, he says, that the very evening of his arrival, he was carried by Lord Eglinton and some other English, whom he names, to your house: “Mr. Mann” (these are his words) “is extremely Polite, and I do him barely justice in saying he is a fine gentleman, though indeed this is as much as can be said of any person whatever; yet there are various ways of distinguishing the qualities that compose this amiable character, and of these, he, in my opinion, possesses the most agreeable. He lives in a fine palace; all the apartments on the ground-floor, which is elegantly furnished, were lighted up; and the garden was a little epitome of Vauxhall. These conversationi resemble our card-assemblies;” (this is called writing travels, to observe that an assembly is like an assembly!) “and this was remarkably brilliant, for all the married ladies of fashion in Florence were present; yet were they as much inferior to the fair part of a British assembly, especially those of York and Edinburgh, as a crew of female Laplanders are to the fairest dames of Florence. Excuse this sally, which is more warm than just; for even this assembly was not without a few lovely creatures. Some played at cards, some passed the time in conversation; others walked from place to place; and many retired with their gallants into gloomy corners, where they entertained each other, but in what manner I will not pretend to say; though, if I may depend upon my information, which, by-the-by, was very good, their taste and mine would not at all agree. In a word, these countries teem with more singularities than I choose to mention.” You will conclude I had very little to say when I had recourse to the observations of such a simpleton; but I thought they would divert you for a moment, as they did me. One don’t dislike to know what even an Aleppo factor would write of one-and I can’t absolutely dislike him, as he was not insensible to your agreeableness. I don’t believe Orpheus would think even a bear ungenteel when it danced to his music. Adieu!
(475) Alexander Drummond, Esq. The work was entitled “Travels through different Cities of Germany, Italy, Greece, and several parts of Asia, as far as the banks of the Euphrates.”-.
205 Letter 98
To John Chute, Esq.
Arlington Street, April 30, 1754.
My God! Farinelli, what has this nation done to the King of Spain, that the moment we have any thing dear and precious he should tear it from us!-This is not the beginning of my letter to you, nor does it allude to Mr. Bentley; much less is it relative to the captivity of the ten tribes; nor does the King signify Benhadad or Tiglath-pileser; nor Spain, Assyria, as Dr. Pococke or Warburton, misled by dissimilitude of names, or by the Septuagint, may, for very good reasons, imagine–but it is literally the commencement of my lady Rich’s(476) epistle to Farinelli on the recall of General Wall, as she relates it herself. It serves extremely well for my own lamentation, when I sit down by the waters of Strawberry, and think of ye, O Chute and Bentley!
I have seen “Creusa,”(477) and more than agree with you: it is the only new tragedy that I ever saw and really liked. The plot is most interesting, and, though so complicated quite clear and natural. The circumstance of so much distress being brought on by characters, every one good, yet acting consistently with their principles towards the misfortunes of the drama, is quite new and pleasing. Nothing offended me but that lisping Miss Haughton, whose every speech is inarticulately oracular.
I was last night at a little ball at Lady Anne Furnese’s for the new Lords, Dartmouth and North, but nothing passed worth relating; indeed, the only event since you left London was the tragicomedy that was acted last Saturday at the Opera. One of the dramatic guards fell flat on his face and motionless in an apoplectic fit. The Princess(478) and her children were there. Miss Chudleigh, who apparemment had never seen a man fall on his face before, went into the most theatric fit of kicking and shrieking that ever was seen. Several other women, who were preparing their fits, were so distanced that she had the whole house to herself; and, indeed such a confusion for half an hour I never saw! The next day, at my Lady Townshend’s, old Charles Stanhope asked what these fits were called? Charles Townshend replied, “The true convulsive fits, to be had only of the maker.” Adieu! my dear Sir. To-day looks summerish, but we have no rain yet.
(476) One of the daughters and coheiresses of the Lord Mohun, killed in a duel with Duke Hamilton.
(477) William Whitehead’s tragedy of “Creusa” was brought out at Drury Lane theatre with considerable applause. Mrs. Pritchard performed the character of Creusa with great effect; and as Garrick and Mossop also took parts in it, the performance was so perfect, that it was hardly possible for it not to succeed in the representation; yet it has seldom been revived.-E.
(478) The Princess of Wales, mother to George the Third.-E.
]206 Letter 99
To John Chute, Esq.
Arlington Street, May 14, 1754.
My dear sir,
I wrote to you the last day of last month: I only mention it to show you that I am- punctual to your desire. It is my only reason for writing to-day, for I have nothing new to tell you. The town is empty, dusty, and disagreeable; the country is cold and comfortless; consequently I daily run from one to t’other’, as if both were so charming that I did not know which to prefer. I am at present employed in no very lively manner, in reading a treatise on commerce, which Count Perron has lent me, of his own writing: this obliges me to go through with it, though the subject and the style of the French would not engage me much. It does not want sense.
T’other night a description was given me of the most extraordinary declaration of love that ever was made. Have you seen young Poniatowski?(479) he is very handsome. You have seen the figure of the Duchess of Gordon,(480) who looks like a raw-boned Scotch metaphysician that has got a red face by drinking water. One day at the drawing-room, having never spoken to him, she sent one of the foreign ministers to invite Poniatowski to dinner with her for the next day. He bowed and went. The moment the door opened, her two little sons, attired like Cupids, with bows and arrows, shot at him; and one of them literally hit his hair, and was very near putting his eye out, and hindering his casting it to the couch
“Where she another sea-born Venus lay.”
The only company besides this Highland goddess were two Scotchmen, who could not speak a word of any language but their own Erse; and to complete his astonishment at this allegorical entertainment, with the dessert there entered a little horse, and galloped round the table; a hieroglyphic I cannot solve. Poniatowski accounts for this profusion of kindness by his great-grandmother being a Gordon: but I believe it is to be accounted for by * * * * Adieu! my dear Sir.
(479) Stanislaus, the ill-fated King of Poland.
(480) Lady Catherine Gordon, daughter of the Earl of Aberdeen, widow of Cosmo Duke of Gordon, who died in 1752. She married, secondly, Colonel Saates Morris.-E.
207 Letter 100
To Richard Bentley, Esq.
Arlington Street, May 18, 1754.
My dear Sir,
Unless you will be exact in dating your letters, you will occasion me much confusion. Since the undated one which I mentioned in my last, I have received another as unregistered, with the fragment of the rock, telling me of one which had set sail on the 18th, I suppose of last month, and been driven back: this I conclude was the former undated. Yesterday, I received a longer, tipped with May 8th. You must submit to this lecture, and I hope will amend by it. I cannot promise that I shall correct myself much in the intention I had of writing to you seldomer and shorter at this time of year. If you could be persuaded how insignificant I think all I do, how little important it is even to myself, you would not wonder that I have not much empressement to give the detail of it to any body else. Little excursions to Strawberry, little parties to dine there, and many jaunts to hurry Bromwich, and the carver, and Clermont, are my material occupations. Think of sending these ‘cross the sea!-The times produce nothing. there is neither party, nor controversy, nor gallantry, nor fashion, nor literature-the whole proceeds like farmers regulating themselves, their business, their views, their diversions, by the almanac. Mr. Pelham’s death has scarce produced a change; the changes in Ireland, scarce a murmur. Even in France the squabbles of the parliament and clergy are under the same opiate influence.–I don’t believe that Mademoiselle Murphy (who is delivered of a prince, and is lodged openly at Versailles) and Madame Pompadour will mix the least grain of ratsbane in one another’s tea. I, who love to ride in the whirlwind, cannot record the yawns of such an age!
The little that I believe you would care to know relating to the Strawberry annals, is, that the great tower is finished on the outside, and the whole whitened, and has a charming effect, especially as the verdure of this year is beyond what I have ever seen it: the grove nearest the house comes on much; you know I had almost despaired of its ever making a figure. The bow-window room over the supper-parlour is finished; hung with a plain blue paper, with a chintz bed and chairs; my father and mother over the chimney in the Gibbons frame, about which you know we were in dispute what to do. I have fixed on black and gold, and it has a charming effect over your chimney with the two dropping points, which is executed exactly; and the old grate of Henry VIII. which you bought, is within it. In each panel around the room is a single picture; Gray’s, Sir Charles Williams’s, and yours, in their black and gold frames; mine is to match yours; and, on each side the doors, are the pictures of Mr. Churchill and Lady Mary, with their son, on one side, Mr. Conway and Lady Ailesbury on the other. You can’t imagine how new and pretty this furniture is.-I believe I must get you to send me an attestation under your hand that you knew nothing of it, that Mr. Rigby may allow that at least this one room was by my own direction. – AS the library and great parlour grow finished, you shall have exact notice.
>From Mabland(481) I have little news to send you, but that the obelisk is danced from the middle of the rabbit-warren into his neighbour’s garden, and he pays a ground-rent for looking at it there. His shrubs are hitherto unmolested, Et MaryboniaCoS(482) gaudet revirescere lucos!
The town is as busy again as ever on the affair of Canning, who has been tried for perjury. The jury would have brought her in guilty of perjury, but not wilful, till the judge informed them that that would rather be an Irish verdict: they then brought her in simply guilty, but recommended her. In short, nothing is discovered: the most general opinion is, that she was robbed, but by some other gipsy. For my own part, I am not at all brought to believe her story, nor shall, till I hear that living seven-and-twenty days without eating is among @ one of those secrets for doing impossibilities, which I suppose will be at last found out, and about the time that I am dead, even some art of living for ever.
You was in pain for me, and indeed I was in pain for myself, on the prospect of the sale of Dr. Mead’s miniatures. You may be easy; it is more than I am quite; for it is come out that the late Prince of Wales had bought them every one.
I have not yet had time to have your granite examined, but will next week. If you have not noticed to your sisters any present of Ormer shells, I shall contradict myself, and accept them for my Lady Lyttelton,(483) who is making a grotto. As many as you can send conveniently, and any thing for the same use, will be very acceptable. You will laugh when I tell you, that I am employed to reconcile Sir George and Moore;(484) the latter has been very flippant, say impertinent, on the former’s giving a little place to Bower, in preference to him. Think of my being the mediator!
The Parliament is to meet for a few days the end of this month, to give perfection to the Regency-bill. If the King dies before the end of this month, the old Parliament revives, which would make tolerable confusion, considering what sums have been laid out on seats in this. Adieu! This letter did not come kindly; I reckon it rather extorted from me, and therefore hope it will not amuse. However, I am in tolerable charity with you, and yours ever.
(481) A cant name which Mr. Walpole had given to Lord Radnor’s whimsical house and grounds at Twickenham.
(482) Lord Radnor’s garden was full of statues, etc. like that at Marylebone. (gray, in a letter to Wharton, of the 13th of August in this year says, “By all means see Lord Radnor’s place again. He is a simple old Phobus, but nothing can spoil so glorious a situation, which surpasses every thing round it.” Works, vol. iii. p. 119.-E).
(483) Elizabeth, daughter of Sir Robert Rich, Bart. was the second wife of George Lord Lyttelton. She was separated from her husband and survived him many years.-E.
(484) Author of The World, and some plays and poems. Moore had written in defence of lord Lyttelton against the Letters to the Whigs; which were not known to be Walpole’s.
209 Letter 101
To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street, May 21, 1754.
I did not intend to write to you till after Thursday, when all your Boscawens, Rices, and Trevors(485) are to dine at Strawberry Hill; but an event has happened, of which I cannot delay giving you the instant pleasurable notice: now will you, according to your custom, be guessing, and, according to your custom, guessing wrong; but lest you should from my spirits make any undutiful or disloyal conjectures for me, know, that the great C`eu(486) of the Vine is dead, and that John the first was yesterday proclaimed undoubted Monarch. Nay, champion Dimmock himself shall cut the throat of any Tracy, Atkins, or Harrison, who shall dare to gainsay the legality of his title. In’ short, there is no more will than was left by the late Erasmus Shorter of particular memory. I consulted Madame Rice, and she advised my directing to you at Mrs. Whettenhall’s; to whom I beg as many compliments as if she wrote herself “La blanche Whitnell.” As many to your sister Harriot and to your brother, who I hear is with you. I am sure, though both you and I had reason to be peevish with the poor tigress, that you grieve with me for her death. I do most sincerely, and for her Bessy: the man-tiger will be so sorry, that I am sure he will marry again to comfort himself. I am so tired with letters I have written on this event, that I can scarce hold the pen. How we shall wish for you on Thursday-and shan’t you be proud to cock your tail at the Vine? Adieu!
(485) The daughters of Mr. Montagu’s uncle, John Morley Trevor, of Glynd in Sussex; Anne, married to General Boscawen; Lucy, married to Edward Rice, Esq.; and Miss Grace Trevor, who was living at Bath in 1792.-E.
(486) Anthony Chute, Esq. of the Vine, Hants; who had been member for Newport, Hants.-E.
210 Letter 102
To Sir Horace Mann.
Strawberry Hill, May 23, 1754.
Pray continue your M`emoires of the war of the Delmontis;(487) I have received two tomes, and am delighted with them. The French and Irish Parliaments proceed so heavily, that one cannot expect to live to the setting up the first standard; and it is so long since the world has furnished any brisk event, that I am charmed with this little military entremets. My Lady Orford will certainly wish herself at Florence again on the behalf of her old friend:(488) I always wish myself there; and, according to custom, she and I should not be of the same party: I cannot help wishing well to the rebellious. You ask, whether this Countess can deprive her son of her estate?-by no means, but by another child, which, at her age, and after the variety of experiments which she has made in all countries, I cannot think very likely to happen. I sometimes think her succession not very distant: she is very asthmatic. Her life is as retired as ever, and passed entirely with her husband, who seems a martyr to his former fame, and is a slave to her jealousy. She has given up nothing to him, and pays such attention to her affairs, that she will soon be vastly rich. But I won’t be talking of her wealth, when the chief purpose of my writing to-night is, to announce the unexpected riches and good fortune of our dear Mr. Chute, I say our dear Mr. Chute, for though you have not reason to be content with him, yet I know your unchangeable heart-and I know he is so good, that if you will take this occasion to write him a line of joy, I am persuaded it will raccommode every thing; and though he will be far from proving a regular correspondent, we shall all have satisfaction in the re-establishment of the harmony.-In short, that tartar his brother is dead: and having made no will, the whole, and a very considerable whole, falls to our friend. This good event happened but three days ago, and I wait with the utmost impatience for his return from the Vine, where he was at the critical instant. As the whole was in the tyrant’s power, and as every art had been used to turn the vinegar of his temper against his brother, I had for some time lived persuaded that he would execute the worst purposes-but let us forgive him!
I like to see in the Gazette that Goldsworthy(489) is going to be removed far from Florence: his sting has long been out-and yet I cannot help feeling glad that even the shadow of a competitor is removed from you.
We are going to have a week of Parliament-not to taste the new one, of which there is no doubt, but to give it essence: by the Regency-bill, if the King had died before it had sat, the old one must have revived.
There is nothing else in the shape of news but small-pox and miliary fevers, which have carried off people you did not know. If I had not been eager to notify Mr. Chute’s prosperity to you, I think I must have deferred writing for a week or two longer: it is unpleasant to be inventing a letter to send so far, and must be disappointing when it comes from so far, and brings so little. Adieu!
(487) This alludes to the proceedings of a mad prior of the family of the Marchese Delmonti; who, with a party of ruffians, had seized upon a strong castle called Monta di Santa Maria, belonging to his brother the Marchese, and situated near Cortona. From whence he and his band ravaged the neighbouring country; and it was only with great difficulty that the troops of the Grand Duke of Tuscany succeeded in dislodging them-D.
(488) Marquis del Monti.
(489) Consul to Lisbon.
211 Letter 103
To Sir Horace Mann.
Arlington Street, June 5, 1754.
Though I wrote to you but a few days ago, when I told you of Mr. Chute’s good fortune, I must send you a few lines to-night upon a particular occasion. Mr. Brand,(490) a very intimate friend of mine, whom I believe you have formerly seen in Italy, is just set out for Germany on his way to Rome. I know by long and uninterrupted experience, that my barely saying he is my friend, will secure for him the kindest reception in the world from you: it would not express my conviction, if I said a word more on that head. His story is very melancholy: about six or seven years ago he married Lady Caroline Pierpoint,(491) half-sister of Lady Mary Wortley;(492) a match quite of esteem, she was rather older than he; but never were two people more completely, more reasonably happy. He is naturally all cheerfulness and laughter; she was very reserved, but quite sensible and faultless. She died about this time twelvemonth of a fever, and left him, with two little children, the most unhappy man alive. He travels again to dissipate his grief: you will love him much, if he stays any time with you. His connexions are entirely with the Duke of Bedford.
I have had another letter from you to-day, with a farther journal of the Delmonti war, which the rebels seem to be leaving to the Pope to finish for them. It diverted me extremely. had I received this letter before Mr. Brand set out, I would have sent you the whole narrative of the affair of Lord Orford and Miss -Nicholl; it is a little volume. The breach, though now by time silenced, was, I assure you, final.
We have had a spurt of Parliament for five days, but it was prorogued to-day. The next will be a terrible session from elections and petitions. The Oxfordshire(493) will be endless; the Appleby outrageous in expense. The former is a revival of downright Whiggism and Jacobitism,, two liveries that have been lately worn indiscriminately by all factions. The latter is a contest between two young Croesus’s, Lord Thanet(494) and Sir James Lowther:(495) that a convert; this an hereditary Whig. A knowing lawyer said, to-day, that with purchasing tenures, votes, and carrying on the election and petition, five-and-fifty thousand pounds will not pay the whole expense– it makes one start! Good night! you must excuse the nothingness of a supernumerary letter.
(490) Thomas Brand, of the Hoo, in Hertfordshire.
(491) Daughter of Evelyn, Duke of Kingston, by his second wife.
(492) Lady Mary, in a letter to her daughter, of the 23d of July, 1753, says, “The death of Lady Carolina naturally raises the mortifying reflection, on how slender a thread hangs all worldly prosperity! I cannot say I am otherwise much touched with it. It is true she was my sister, as it were, and in some sense; but her behaviour to me never gave me any love, nor her general conduct any esteem.”-E.
(493) This was the great Oxfordshire contest between the Jacobites and the Whigs. The candidates of the former party were Viscount Wenman and Sir Edward Turner, Bart. those of the latter, Viscount Parker, eldest son of the Earl of Macclesfield, and Sir James Dashwood, Bart. Great sums were spent on both sides: in the election the Jacobites carried it; but on petition to the House of Commons, the ministers, as usual, seated their own friends.-D.
(494) Sackville Tufton, eighth Earl of Thanet.-D.
(495) Sir James Lowther had succeeded his collateral relation, Henry, third Viscount Lonsdale, in his vast estates. He became afterwards remarkable for his eccentricities, and we fear, we must add, for his tyranny and cruelty. Mr. Pitt created him Earl of Lonsdale, in the year 1784. He died in 1802.-D. [In 1782, he offered to build, and Completely furnish and man, a ship of war of seventy guns for the service of the country at his own expense; but the proposal, though sanctioned by the King, was rendered unnecessary to be carried into execution by the peace.]
212 Letter 104
To George Montagu, Esq.
Strawberry Hill, Saturday, June 8, 1754.
By my computation you are about returned to Greatworth: I was so afraid of my letters missing you on the road, that I deferred till now telling you how much pleasure I shall have in seeing you and the Colonel at Strawberry. I have long been mortified that for these three years you have seen it only in winter: it is now in the height of its greenth, blueth, gloomth, honey-suckle and seringahood. I have no engagement till Wednesday se’nnight, when I am obliged to be in town on law business. You will have this to-morrow night; if I receive a letter, which I beg you will direct to London, on Tuesday or Wednesday, I will meet you here whatever day you will be so good as to appoint. I thank the Colonel a thousand times. I cannot write a word more; for I am getting into the chaise to whisk to the Vine for two days, but shall be in town on Tuesday night. Adieu!
213 Letter 105
To George Montagu, Esq.
Strawberry Hill, June 29, 1754.
I shall take care to send your letter the first time I write to Mr. Bentley. It is above a fortnight since I heard from him. I am much disappointed at not having seen you yet; I love you should execute your intentions while you intend them, because you are a little apt to alter your mind, and as I have set mine on your seeing Strawberry Hill this summer, while it is in its beauty, you will really mortify me by changing your purpose.
It is in vain that you ask for news: I was in town two days ago, but heard nothing; indeed there were not people enough to cause or make news. Lady Caroline Petersham had scraped together a few foreigners, after her christening; but I cannot say that the party was much livelier than if it had met at Madame Montandre’s.(496) You must let me know a little beforehand when you have fixed your time for coming, because, as I am towards flying about on my summer expeditions, I should be unhappy not to be here just when you would like it. Adieu!
P. S. I supped at White’s the other night with the great C`u, and he was by far more gracious, both on your topic and my own, than ever I knew him.
(496) Widow of Francis de la Rochefaucauld, Marquis de Montandre, who came to England with William the Third, and served in all the wars of that monarch, and of Queen Anne. He was made a marshal in July 1739, and died in the following August.-E.
213 Letter 106
To Sir Horace Mann.
Strawberry Hill, July 5, 1754.
I believe you never receive a letter from me at this season of the year, without wishing for winter, that I might have something to tell you. Warm weather in England disperses all the world, except a few old folks, whose day of events is past, and who contribute nothing to the society of news. There is a court indeed as near as Kensington, but where the monarch is old, the courtiers are seldom young: they sun themselves in a window like flies in autumn, past even buzzing, and to be swept away in the first hurricane of a new reign. However, as little novelty as the season or the times produce, there is an adventuress in the world, who even in the dullest times will take care not to let conversation stagnate: this public-spirited dame is no other than a Countess-dowager, my sister-in-law, who has just notified to the town her intention of parting from her second husband-a step which, being in general not likely to occasion much surprise,-she had, however, taken care to render extraordinary, by a course of inseparable fondness and wonderful jealousy, for the three years since these her second nuptials. The testimonials which Mr. Shirley had received in print from that living academy of love-lore, my Lady Vane, added to this excessive tenderness of one, little less a novice, convinced every body that he was a perfect hero. You will pity poor Hercules! Omphale, by a most unsentimental precaution, has so secured to her own disposal her whole estate and jointure, that he cannot command so much as a distaff; and as she is not inclined to pay much for nothing, her offers on the article of separation are exceedingly moderate. As yet he has not accepted them, but is gone to Scarborough, and she into the west, to settle her affairs, and from thence embarks for France and Italy. I am sorry she will plague you again at Florence; but I shall like to hear of what materials she composes her second volume, and what reasons she will allege in her new manifestoes: her mother, who sold her, is dead; the all-powerful minister, who bought her, is dead! whom will she charge with dragging her. to the bed of this second tyrant, from whom she has been forced to fly–On her son’s account, I am really sorry for this second `equip`ee: I can’t even help pitying her! at her age nobody can take such steps, without being sensible of their ridicule, and what snakes must such passions be, as can hurry one over such reflections? Her original story was certainly very unhappy; and the forcing so very young a creature against her inclinations, unjustifiable: but I much question whether any choice of her own could have tied down her inclinations to -any temper–at least, I am sure she had pitched upon a Hercules then, who of all men living was the least proper to encounter such labours, my Lord Chesterfield!
I have sent your letter to Mr. Chute, who is at his own Vine; he had written to you of his own accord, and I trust your friendship will be re-established as strongly as ever, especially as there was no essential fault on either side, and as you will now be prepared not to mind his aversion to writing. Thank Dr. Cocchi for the book(497) he is so good as to intend for me; I value any thing from him, though I scarce understand any thing less than Greek and physic; the little I knew of the first I have almost forgot, and the other, thank God! I never had any occasion to know. I shall duly deliver the other copies.
The French are encroaching extremely upon us in all the distant parts of the world, especially in Virginia, from whence their attempts occasion great uneasiness here. For my own part, I think we are very lucky, when they will be so good as to begin with us at the farther end. The revocation of the Parliament of Paris, which is done or doing, is thought very bad for us: I don’t know but it may: in any other time I should have thought not, as it is a concession or yielding from the throne, and would naturally spirit up the Parliament to struggle on for power; but no other age is a precedent for this. As no oppression would, I believe, have driven them into rebellion, no concession will tempt them to be more assuming. The King of France will govern his Parliament by temporizing; the Parliament of Ireland is governed by being treated like a French one. Adieu!
(497) An edition of some of the Greek physicians.
215 Letter 107
To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Strawberry Hill, Saturday, July 6, 1754.
Your letter certainly stopped to drink somewhere by the way, I suppose with the hearty hostess at the Windmill; for, though written on Wednesday, it arrived here but this morning: it could not have travelled more deliberately in the Speaker’s body-coach. I am concerned, because, your fishmonger not being arrived, I fear you have stayed for my answer. The fish(498) are apprised that they are to ride over to Park-place, and are ready booted and spurred; and the moment their pad arrives, they shall set forth. I would accompany them on a pillion if I were not waiting for Lady Mary,(499) who has desired to bring a poor sick girl here for a few days to try the air. You know how courteous a knight I am to distressed virgins of five years old, and that my castle-gates are always open to them. You will, I am sure, accept this excuse for some days: and as soon as ever my hospitality is completed, I will be ready to obey your summons, though you should send a water-pot for me. I am in no fear of not finding you in perfect verdure; for the sun, I believe, is gone a great way off to some races or other, where his horses are to run for the King’s plate: we have not heard of him in this neighbourhood. Adieu!
(497) Gold fish.
(499) Lady Mary Churchill.
215 Letter 108
To Sir Richard Bentley, Esq.
Strawberry Hill, July 9, 1754.
I only write a letter for company to the enclosed one. Mr. Chute is returned from the Vine, and gives you a thousand thanks for your letter; and if ever he writes, I don’t doubt but it will be to you. Gray and he come hither to-morrow, and I am promised Montagu and the Colonel(500) in about a fortnight–How naturally my pen adds, but when does Mr. Bentley come! I am sure Mr. Wicks wants to ask me the same question every day–“Speak to it, Horatio!” Sir Charles Williams brought his eldest daughter hither last week: she is one of your real admirers, and, without its being proposed to her, went on the bowling-green, and drew a perspective view of the castle from the angle, in a manner to deserve the thanks of the Committee.(501) She is to be married to my Lord Essex in a Week,(502) and I begged she would make you overseer of the works at Cashiobury. Sir Charles told me, that on the Duke of Bedford’s wanting a Chinese house at Woburn, he said, “Why don’t your grace speak to mr. Walpole? He has the prettiest plan in the world for one.” –“Oh,” replied the Duke, “but then it would be too dear!” I hope this was a very great economy, or I am sure ours would be very great extravagance: only think of a plan for little Strawberry giving the alarm to thirty thousand pounds a year! My dear sir, it is time to retrench! Pray send me ‘a slice of granite(503) no bigger than a Naples biscuit.
The monument to my mother is at last erected; it puts me in mind of the manner of interring the Kings of France: when the reigning one dies, the last before him is buried. Will you believe that I have not yet seen the tomb? None of my acquaintance were in town, and I literally had not courage to venture alone among the Westminster-boys at the Abbey: they are as formidable to me as the ship-carpenters at Portsmouth. I think I have showed you the inscription, and therefore I don’t send it yet].
I was reading t’other day the Life of Colonel Codrington,(504) who founded the library at All Souls – he left a large estate for the propagation of the Gospel, and ordered that three hundred negroes should constantly be constantly employed upon it. Did one ever hear a more truly Christian charity, than keeping a perpetuity of three hundred slaves to look after the Gospel’s estate? How could one intend a religious legacy, and miss the disposition of that estate for delivering three hundred negroes from the most shocking slavery imaginable? Must devotion be twisted into the unfeeling interests of trade? I must revenge myself for the horror this fact has given me, and tell you a story of Gideon.(505) He breeds his children Christians: he had a mind to know what proficience his son had made in his new religion; “So,” says he, “I began, and asked him, who made him; He said ‘God.’ I then asked him, who redeemed him? He replied very readily, ‘Christ.’ Well, then I was at the end of my interrogatories, and did not know what other question to put to him. I said, Who–who–I did not know what to say; at last I said, Who gave you that hat? ‘The Holy Ghost,’ said the boy.” Did you ever hear a better catechism? The great cry against Nugent at Bristol was for having voted for the Jew-bill: one old woman said, “What, must we be represented by a Jew and an Irishman?” He replied with great quickness, “My good dame, if you will step aside with me into a corner, I will show you that I am not a Jew, and that I am an Irishman.”
The Princess(506) has breakfasted at the long Sir Thomas Robinson’s at Whitehall; my Lady Townshend will never forgive it. The second dowager of Somerset(507) is gone to know whether all her letters from the living to the dead have been received. Before I bid you good-night, I must tell you of an admirable curiosity: I was looking over one of our antiquarian volumes, and in the description of Leeds is an account of Mr. Thoresby’s famous museum there-what do you think is one of the rarities?–a knife taken from one of the Mohocks! Whether tradition is infallible or not, as you say, I think so authentic a relic will make their history indisputable. Castles, Chinese houses, tombs, negroes, Jews, Irishmen, princesses, and Mohocks–what a farrago do I send you! I trust that a letter from England to Jersey has an imposing air, and that you don’t presume to laugh at any thing that comes from your mother island. Adieu!
(500) Charles Montagu.
(501) Mr. Walpole, in these letters, calls the Strawberry committee, those of his friends who had assisted in the plans and Gothic ornaments of Strawberry Hill.
(502) The lady was married to the Earl of Essex on the 1st of August. She died in childbed, in July 1759.-E.
(503) Mr. Walpole had commissioned Mr. Bentley to send him a piece of the granite found in the island of Jersey, for a sideboard in his dining-room.
(504) Colonel Christopher Codrington. He was governor of the Leeward Islands, and died at Barbadoes in 1710. He bequeathed his books, and the sum of ten thousand pounds, for the purpose of erecting and furnishing the above-mentioned library. He wrote some Latin poems, published in the “Musae Anglicanae,” and addressed a copy of English verse to Garth on his Dispensary.-E.
(505) Sampson Gideon, the noted rich Jew. [In 1759, his only son, being then in his eleventh year, was created an English baronet; and, in 1789, advanced to the dignity of Lord Eardley.]
(506) Of Wales.
(507) Frances, oldest daughter and coheir of the Hon. Henry Thynne. ‘
217 Letter 109
To The Hon. H. S. Conway.(508)
Strawberry Hill, August 6, 1754.
>From Sunday next, which is the eleventh, till the four or five-and-twentieth, I am quite unengaged, and will wait upon you any of the inclusive days, when your house is at leisure, and you will summon me; therefore you have nothing to do but to let me know your own time: or, if this period does not suit you, I believe I shall be able to come to you any part of the first fortnight in September; for, though I ought to go to Hagley, it is incredible how I want resolution to tap such a journey.
I wish you joy of escaping such an accident as breaking the Duke’s(509) leg; I hope he and you will be known to posterity together by more dignified wounds than the kick of a horse. As I can never employ my time better than in being your biographer, I beg you will take care that I may have no such plebeian mishaps upon my hands or, if the Duke is to fall out of battle, he has such delicious lions and tigers, which I saw the day before yesterday at Windsor, that he will be exceedingly to blame, if he does not give some of them an exclusive patent for tearing him to pieces.
There is a beautiful tiger at my neighbour Mr. Crammond’s here, of which I am so fond, that my Lady Townshend says it is the only thing I ever wanted to kiss. As you know how strongly her ladyship sympathizes with the Duke, she contrived to break the tendon of her foot, the very day that his leg was in such danger. Adieu!
P. S. You may certainly do what you please with the Fable;(510) it is neither worth giving nor refusing.
(508) Now first printed.
(509) The Duke of Cumberland.
(510) The Entail.
218 Letter 110
To George Montagu, Esq.
Strawberry Hill, Aug 29, 1754.
You may be sure that I shall always be glad to see you whenever you like to come hither, but I cannot help being sorry that you are determined not to like the place, nor to let the Colonel like it; a conclusion I may very justly make, when, I think, for these four years, you have contrived to visit it only when there is not a leaf upon the trees. Villas are generally designed for summer; you are the single person who think they look best in winter. You have still a more unlucky thought; which Is, to visit the Vine in October. When I saw it in the middle of summer, it was excessively damp; you will find it a little difficult to persuade me to accompany you thither On stilts, and I believe Mr. Chute Will not be quite happy that you prefer that season; but for this I cannot answer at present, for he is at Mr. Morris’s in Cornwall. I shall expect you and the Colonel here at the time you appoint. I engage for no farther, unless it is a very fine season indeed. I beg my compliments to Miss Montagu, and am yours ever.
218 Letter 111
To Sir Horace Mann.
Arlington Street, Oct. 6, 1754.
You have the kindest way in the world, my dear Sir, of reproving my long silence, by accusing yourself. I have looked at my dates, and though I was conscious Of not having written to you for a long time, I did not think it had been so long as three months. I ought to make some excuse, and the truth is all I can make; if you have heard by any way in the world that a single event worth mentioning has happened in England for these three months, I will own myself guilty of abominable neglect. If there has not, as you know my unalterable affection for you, you will excuse me, and accuse the times. Can one repeat often, that every thing stagnates? At present we begin to think that the world may be roused again, and that an East Indian war and a West Indian war may beget such a thing as an European war. In short, the French have taken such cavalier liberties with some of our forts, that are of great consequence to cover Virginia, Carolina, and Georgia, that we are actually despatching two regiments thither. As the climate and other American circumstances are against these poor men, I pity them, and think them too many, if the French mean nothing farther; too few, if they do. Indeed, I am one of those that feel less resentment when we are attacked so far off: I think it an obligation to be eaten the last.
You have entertained me much with the progress of the history of the Delmontis, and obliged me. I wish I could say I was not shocked at the other part of your letter, where you mention the re-establishment of the Inquisition at Florence. Had Richcourt power enough to be so infamous! was he superstitious, fearful, revengeful, or proud of being a tool of the court of Rome? What is the fate of the poor Florentines, who are reduced to regret the Medicis, who had usurped their government! You may be glad, my dear child, that I am not at Florence; I should distress your ministerial prudence, your necessary prudence, by taking pleasure to speak openly of Richcourt as he deserves: you know my warmth upon power and church power!
The Boccaneri seems to be one of those ladies who refine so much upon debauchery as to make even matrimony enter into their scheme of profligacy. I have known more than one instance, since the days of the Signora Messalina, where the lady has not been content to cuckold her husband but with another husband. All passions carried to extremity embrace within their circle even their opposites. I don’t know whether Charles the Fifth did not resign the empire Out Of ambition of more fame. I must contradict myself in all passions; I don’t believe Sir Robert Brown will ever be so covetous as to find a pleasure in squandering.
Mr. Chute is much yours: I am going with him in a day or two to his Vine, where I shall try to draw him into amusing himself a little with building and planting; hitherto he has done nothing with his estate-but good.
You will have observed what precaution I had taken, in the smallness of the sheet, not to have too much paper to fill; and yet you see how much I have still upon my hands! As, I assure you, were I to fill the remainder, all I should say would be terribly wiredrawn, do excuse me: you shall hear an ample detail of the first Admiral Vernon that springs out of our American war; and I promise you at least half a brick of the first sample that is sent over of any new Porto Bello. The French have tied up the hands of an
excellent fanfaron, a Major Washington,(511) whom they took, and engaged not to serve for a year. In his letter, he said, “Believe me, as the cannon-balls flew over my head. they made a most delightful sound.” When your relation, General Guise, was marching up to Carthagena, and the pelicans whistled round him, he said, “What would Chlo`e(512) give for some of these to make a pelican pie?” The conjecture made that scarce a rodomontade; but what pity it is, that a man who can deal in hyperboles at the mouth of a cannon, should be fond of them with a glass of wine in his hand! I have heard Guise affirm, that the colliers at Newcastle feed their children with fire-shovels! Good night.
(511) This was the celebrated Liberator of America, who had been serving in the English army against the French for some time with much distinction.
(512 ) The Duke of Newcastle’s French cook.
220 Letter 112
To The Hon. H. S. Conway.(513)
Strawberry Hill, Oct. 24, 1754.
You have obliged me most extremely by telling me the progress you have made in your most desirable affair.(514) I call it progress, for, notwithstanding the authority you have for supposing there may be a compromise, I cannot believe that the Duke of Newcastle would have affirmed the contrary so directly, if he had known of it. Mr. Brudenel very likely has been promised my Lord Lincoln’s interest, and then supposed he should have the Duke’s. However, that is not your affair; if any body has reason to apprehend a breach of promise, it is poor Mr. Brudenel. He can never come into competition with you; and without saying any thing to reflect on him, I don’t know where you can ever have a competitor, and not have the world on your side. Though the tenure is precarious, I cannot help liking the situation for you. Any thing that sets you in new lights, must be for your advantage. You are naturally indolent and humble, and are content with being perfect in whatever you happen to be. It is not flattering you to Say, nor can you deny it, with all your modesty, that you have always made yourself’ master of whatever you have attempted, and have never made yourself master of any thing without shining extremely in it. If the King lives, you will have his favour; if he lives it all, the Prince must have a greater establishment, and then you will have the King’s partiality to countenance your being removed to some distinguished place about the Prince: if the King should fail, your situation in his family, and your age, naturally recommend you to an equal place in the new household. I am the more desirous of seeing you at court, because, when I consider the improbability of our being in a situation to make war, I am earnest to have you have other opportunities of being one of the first men in this country, besides being a general. Don’t think all I say on this subject compliment. I can have no view in flattering you; and You have a still better reason for believing me sincere, which is, that you know well that I thought the same of you, and professed the same to you, before I was of an age to have either views or flattery; indeed, I believe you know me enough to be sure that I am as void of both now as when I was fourteen, and that I am so little apt to court any body, that if you heard me say the same to any body but yourself, you would easily think that I spoke what I thought.
George Montagu and his brother are here, and have kept me from meeting you in town: we go on Saturday to the Vine. I fear there is too much truth in what you have heard of your old mistress.(515) When husband, wife, lover, and friend tell every thing, can there but be a perpetual fracas? My dear Harry, how lucky you was in what you escaped, and in what you have got! People do sometimes avoid, not always, what is most improper for them; but they do not afterwards always meet with what they most deserve. But how lucky you are in every thing! and how ungrateful a man to Providence if you are not thankful for so many blessings as it has given you! I won’t preach, though the dreadful history which I have just heard of poor Lord Drumlanrig(516) is enough to send one to La Trappe. My compliments to all yours, and Adieu!
(513) Now first printed.
(514) His being appointed groom of the bedchamber to the King, George the Second.-E.
(515) Caroline Fitzroy, Countess of Harrington.-E.
(516) Only son of Charles third Duke of Queensberry, who was shot by the accidental discharge of his pistol on his journey from Scotland to London, in company with his parents and newly- married wife, a daughter of the Earl of Hopetoun. Lady Mary Wortley thus alludes to this calamity in a letter to her daughter:–“The Duchess of Queensberry’s misfortune would move compassion in the hardest heart; yet, all circumstances coolly considered, I think the young lady deserves most to be pitied, being left in the terrible situation of a young and, I suppose, rich widowhood; which is walking blindfold upon stilts amidst precipices, though perhaps as little sensible of her danger, as a child of a quarter old would be in the paws of a monkey leaping on the tiles of a house.”-E.
221 Letter 113
To Richard Bentley, Esq.
Strawberry Hill, Nov. 3, 1754.
I have finished all my parties, and am drawing towards a conclusion here: the Parliament meets in ten days: the House, I hear, will be extremely full–curiosity drawing as many to town as party used to do. The minister(517) in the house of Lords is a new sight in these days.
Mr. Chute and I have been at Mr. Barret’s(518) at Belhouse; I never saw a place for which one did not wish, so totally void of faults. What he has done is in Gothic, and very true, though not up to the perfection of the committee. The hall is pretty; the great dining room hung with good family pictures; among which is his ancestor, the Lord Dacre who was hanged.(519) I remember when Mr. Barret was first initiated in the College of Arms by the present Dean of Exeter(520) at Cambridge, he was overjoyed at the first ancestor he put up, who was one of the murderers of Thomas Becket. The chimney-pieces, except one little miscarriage into total Ionic (he could not resist statuary and Siena marble), are all of a good King James the First Gothic. I saw the heronry so fatal to Po Yang, and told him that I was persuaded they were descended from Becket’s assassin, and I hoped from my Lord Dacre too. He carried us to see the famous plantations and buildings of the last Lord Petre. They are the Brobdignag of the bad taste. The Unfinished house is execrable, massive, and split through and through: it stands on the brow of a hill, rather to seek for a prospect than to see one, and turns its back upon an outrageous avenue which is closed with a screen of tall trees, because he would not be at the expense of beautifying the black front Of his house. The clumps are gigantic, and very ill placed.
George Montagu and the Colonel have at last been here, and have screamed with approbation through the whole Cu-gamut. Indeed, the library is delightful. They went to the Vine, and approved as much. Do you think we wished for you? I carried down incense and mass-books, and we had most Catholic enjoyment Of the chapel. In the evenings, indeed, we did touch a card a little to please George–so much, that truly I have scarce an idea left that is not spotted with clubs, hearts, spades, and diamonds. There is a vote of the Strawberry committee for great embellishments to the chapel, of which it will not be long before you hear something. It will not be longer than the spring, I trust, before you see something of it. In the mean time, to rest your impatience, I have enclosed a scratch of mine which you are to draw out better, and try if you can give yourself a perfect idea of the place. All I can say is, that my sketch is at least more intelligible than Gray’s was of Stoke, from which you made so like a picture.
Thank you much for the box of Guernsey lilies, which I have received. I have been packing up a few seeds, which have little merit but the merit they will have with you, that they come from the Vine and Strawberry. My chief employ in this part of the world, except surveying my library which has scarce any thing but the painting to finish, is planting at Mrs. Clive’s, whither I remove all my superabundancies. I have lately planted the green lane, that leads from her garden to the common: “Well,” said she, “when it is done, what shall we call it?”-” Why,” said I, ” what would you call it but Drury Lane?” I mentioned desiring some samples of your Swiss’s(521 abilities: Mr. Chute and I even propose, if he should be tolerable, and would continue reasonable, to tempt him over hither, and make him work upon your designs-upon which, you know, it is not easy to make you work. If he improves upon your hands, do you think we shall purchase the fee-simple of him for so many years, as Mr. Smith did of Canaletti?(522) We will sell to the English. Can he paint perspectives, and cathedral-aisles, and holy glooms? I am sure you could make him paint delightful insides of the chapel at the Vine, and of the library here. I never come up the stairs without reflecting how different it is from its primitive state, when my Lady Townshend all the way she came up the stairs, cried out, “Lord God! Jesus! what a house! It is just such a house as a parson’s, where the children lie at the feet of the bed!” I cant say that to-day it puts me much in mind of another speech of my lady’s, “That it would be a very pleasant place, if Mrs. Clive’s face did not rise upon it and make it so hot!” The sun and Mrs. Clive seem gone for the winter.
The West Indian war has thrown me into a new study: I read nothing but American voyages, and histories of plantations and settlements. Among all the Indian nations, I have contracted a particular intimacy with the Ontaouanoucs, a people with whom I beg you will be acquainted: they pique themselves upon speaking the purest dialect. How one should delight in the grammar and dictionary of their Crusca! My only fear is, that if any of them are taken prisoners, General Braddock is not a kind of man to have proper attentions to so polite a people; I am even apprehensive that he would damn them, and order them to be scalped, in the very worst plantation-accent. I don’t know whether you know that none of the people of that immense continent have any labials: they tell you que c’est ridicule to shut the lips in order to speak. Indeed, I was as barbarous as any polite nation in the world, in supposing that there was nothing worth knowing among these charming savages. They are in particular great orators, with this little variation from British eloquence, that at the end of every important paragraph they make a present; whereas we expect to receive one. They begin all their answers with recapitulating what has been said to them; and their method for this is, the respondent gives a little stick to each of the bystanders, who is, for his share, to remember such a paragraph of the speech that is to be answered. You will wonder that I should have given the preference to the Ontaouanoucs, when there is a much more extraordinary nation to the north of Canada, who have but one leg, and p– from behind their ear; but I own I had rather converse for any time with people who speak like Mr. Pitt, than with a nation of jugglers, who are only fit to go about the country, under the direction of Taafe and Montagu.(523) Their existence I do not doubt; they are recorded by P`ere Charlevoix, in his much admired history of New France, in which there are such outrageous legends of miracles for the propagation of the Gospel, that his fables in natural history seem strict veracity.
Adieu! You write to me as seldom as if you were in an island where the Duke of Newcastle was sole minister, parties at an end, and where every thing had done happening. Yours ever.
P. S. I have just seen in the advertisements that there are arrived two new volumes of Madame de S`evign`e’s Letters. Adieu, my American studies!–adieu, even my favourite Ontaouanoucs!
(517) The Duke of Newcastle.