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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2553427 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #53519 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/53519) diff --git a/old/53519-0.txt b/old/53519-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 75758ad..0000000 --- a/old/53519-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8726 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's Horace Walpole and his World, by Horace Walpole - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Horace Walpole and his World - Select passages from his Letters - -Author: Horace Walpole - -Editor: L. B. Seeley - -Release Date: November 13, 2016 [EBook #53519] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HORACE WALPOLE AND HIS WORLD *** - - - - -Produced by Beginners Projects and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - - - - - -HORACE WALPOLE AND HIS WORLD - -[Illustration: _Sir T. Laurence. Pinx._ _A. Dawson. Ph. Sc._ _W. Evans. -Sc._ - -_Horace Walpole._] - - - - - HORACE WALPOLE - AND HIS WORLD - - _SELECT PASSAGES FROM HIS LETTERS_ - - EDITED BY - L. B. SEELEY, M.A. - _Late Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge_ - - _WITH EIGHT ILLUSTRATIONS AFTER_ - SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS AND SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE - - LONDON - SEELEY, JACKSON, AND HALLIDAY, 54, FLEET STREET - 1884 - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - PAGE - - CHAPTER I. - - Introduction--Birth and - Parentage--Education--Appointments--Travels--Parliamentary - Career--Retirement--Fortune--Strawberry - Hill--Collections--Writings--Printing Press--Accession - to Title--Death--Character--Political Conduct - and Opinions--The Slave Trade--Strikes--Views of - Literature--Friendships--Charities--Chatterton--Letters 1 - - CHAPTER II. - - Country Life--Ranelagh Gardens--The Rebel Lords--The - Earthquake--A Frolic at Vauxhall--Capture of a - Housebreaker--Strawberry Hill--The Beautiful Gunnings--Sterne 33 - - CHAPTER III. - - A new Reign--Funeral of the late King--Houghton - revisited--Election at Lynn--Marriage of George III.--His - Coronation 62 - - CHAPTER IV. - - General Taste for Pleasure--Entertainments at Twickenham - and Esher--Miss Chudleigh’s Ball--Masquerade at Richmond - House--The Gallery at Strawberry Hill--Balls--The Duchess - of Queensberry--Petition of the Periwig-makers--Ladies’ - Head-gear--Almack’s--“The Castle of Otranto”--Plans for a - Bower--A late Dinner--Walpole’s Idle Life--Social Usages 78 - - CHAPTER V. - - The Gout--Visits to Paris--Bath--John Wesley--Bad - Weather--English Summers--Quitting Parliament--Madame du - Deffand--Human Vanity--The Banks of the Thames--A Subscription - Masquerade--Extravagance of the Age--The Pantheon--Visiting - Stowe with Princess Amelia--George Montagu--The Countess of - Ossory--Powder-Mills Blown up at Hounslow--Distractions of - Business and Pleasure 99 - - CHAPTER VI. - - Lord Nuneham--Madame de Sévigné--Charles Fox--Mrs. Clive and - Cliveden--Goldsmith and Garrick--Dearth of News--Madame de - Trop--A Bunch of Grapes--General Election--Perils by Land and - Water--Sir Horace Mann--Lord Clive--The History of Manners--A - Traveller from Lima--The Sçavoir Vivre Club--Reflections on - Life--The Pretender’s Happiness--Paris Fashions--Madame du - Deffand ill--Growth of London--Sir Joshua Reynolds--Change in - Manners--Our Climate 124 - - CHAPTER VII. - - The American War--Irish Discontent--Want of Money--The Houghton - Pictures sold--Removal to Berkeley Square--Ill-health--A - Painting by Zoffani--The Rage for News--The Duke of - Gloucester--Wilkes--Fashions, Old and New--Mackerel - News--Pretty Stories--Madame de Sévigné’s Cabinet--Picture of - his Waldegrave Nieces--The Gordon Riots--Death of Madame du - Deffand--The Blue Stockings 151 - - CHAPTER VIII. - - Walpole in his Sixty-fourth Year--The Royal - Academy--Tonton--Charles Fox--William Pitt--Mrs. Hobart’s - _Sans Souci_--Improvements at Florence--Walpole’s Dancing - Feats--No Feathers at Court--Highwaymen--Loss of the _Royal - George_--Mrs. Siddons--Peace--Its Social Consequences--The - Coalition--The Rivals--Political Excitement--The Westminster - Election--Political Caricatures--Conway’s Retirement--Lady - Harrington--Balloons--Illness--Recovery 188 - - CHAPTER IX. - - Lady Correspondents--Madame de Genlis--Miss Burney and - Hannah More--Deaths of Mrs. Clive and Sir Horace Mann--Story - of Madame de Choiseul--Richmond--Queensberry House--Warren - Hastings--Genteel Comedy--St. Swithin--Riverside Conceits--Lord - North--The Theatre again--Gibbon’s History--Sheridan--Conway’s - comedy--A Turkish War--Society Newspapers--The Misses - Berry--Bonner’s Ghost--The Arabian Nights--King’s College - Chapel--Richmond Society--New Arrivals--The Berrys visit - Italy--A Farewell Letter 221 - - CHAPTER X. - - Walpole’s Love of English Scenery--Richmond Hill--Burke on - the French Revolution--The Berrys at Florence--Death of - George Selwyn--London Solitude--Repairs at Cliveden--Burke - and Fox--The Countess of Albany--Journal of a Day--Mrs. - Hobart’s Party--Ancient Trade with India--Lady Hamilton--A - Boat Race--Return of the Berrys--Horace succeeds to - the Peerage--Epitaphium Vivi Auctoris--His Wives--Mary - Berry--Closing Years--Love of Moving Objects--Visit from Queen - Charlotte--Death of Conway--Final Illness of Horace--His last - Letter 262 - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. - - - PAGE - - HORACE WALPOLE, _after_ Lawrence _Frontispiece._ - - LAWRENCE STERNE, _after_ Reynolds 60 - - THE LADY GERTRUDE FITZPATRICK, _after_ Reynolds 132 - - THE LADY CAROLINE MONTAGU, _after_ Reynolds 148 - - THE THREE LADIES WALDEGRAVE, _after_ Reynolds 168 - - SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS, _after_ Reynolds 188 - - THE DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE, _after_ Reynolds 213 - - MRS. MONTAGU, _after_ Reynolds 274 - - - - -HORACE WALPOLE AND HIS WORLD. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - - Introduction.--Birth and - Parentage.--Education.--Appointments.--Travels.--Parliamentary - Career.--Retirement.--Fortune.--Strawberry - Hill.--Collections.--Writings.--Printing Press.--Accession - to Title.--Death.--Character.--Political Conduct - and Opinions.--The Slave-Trade.--Strikes.--Views of - Literature.--Friendships.--Charities.--Chatterton.--Letters. - - -We offer to the general reader some specimens of Horace Walpole’s -correspondence. Students of history and students of literature are -familiar with this great mine of facts and fancies, but it is too -extensive to be fully explored by those who have not both ample -leisure and strong inclination for such employment. Yet most persons, -we imagine, would be glad to have some acquaintance with the prince -of English letter-writers. Many years have passed since Walter Scott -pronounced Walpole’s letters to be the best in our language, and since -Lord Byron declared them to be incomparable. The fashion in style -and composition has changed during the interval almost as often as -the fashion in dress: other candidates, too, for fame in the same -department have come forward; but no one, we think, has succeeded in -setting aside the verdict given, in the early part of our century, -by the two most famous writers of their time. Meanwhile, to the -collections of letters by Walpole that were known to Scott and Byron -have been added several others, no way inferior to the first, which -have been published at different periods; besides numerous detached -letters, which have come to light from various quarters. In the years -1857-9, appeared a complete edition of Walpole’s letters in nine -large octavo volumes.[1] The editor of this expressed his confidence -that no additions of moment would afterwards be made to the mass -of correspondence which his industry had brought together. Yet he -proved to be mistaken. In 1865 came out Miss Berry’s Journals and -Correspondence,[2] containing a large quantity of letters and parts -of letters addressed to her and her sister by Walpole, which had not -previously been given to the world, as well as several interesting -letters to other persons, the manuscripts of which had passed into -and remained in Miss Berry’s possession. Other letters, too, have -made their appearance, singly and incidentally, in more recent -publications.[3] The total number of Walpole’s published letters -cannot now fall much short of three thousand; the earliest of these -is dated in November, 1735,[4] the latest in January, 1797. Throughout -the intervening sixty years, the writer, to use his own phrase, -lived always in the big busy world; and whatever there passed before -him, his restless fingers, restless even when stiffened by the gout, -recorded and commented on for the amusement of his correspondents and -the benefit of posterity. The extant results of his diligence display -a full picture of the period, distorted indeed in many places by the -prejudices of the artist, but truthful on the whole, and enlivened -everywhere by touches of genius. From this mass of narratives and -descriptions, anecdotes and good-sayings, criticisms, reflections and -raillery, we shall endeavour to make as representative a selection as -our limits will permit. - -It is hardly necessary to say that Horace Walpole entered life as the -son of the foremost Englishman of his time. He was born on the 24th of -September, 1717, O.S., and was the youngest of the six children whom -Sir Robert Walpole’s first wife, Catherine Shorter, brought to her -illustrious husband. This family included two other sons, Robert and -Edward, and two daughters, besides a fourth son, William, who died in -infancy. Horace, whose birth took place eleven years after that of the -fifth child, bore no resemblance, either in body or mind, to the robust -and hearty Sir Robert. He was of slight figure and feeble constitution; -his features lacked the comeliness of the Walpole race; and his -temperament was of that fastidious, self-conscious, impressionable -cast which generally causes a man or boy to be called affected. The -scandalous, noting these things, and comparing the person and character -of Horace Walpole with those of the Herveys, remembered that Sir -Robert and his first wife had been estranged from one another in the -later years of their union, and that the lady had been supposed to be -intimate with Carr Lord Hervey, elder brother of Pope’s Sporus. Horace -himself has mentioned that this Carr was reckoned of superior parts to -the more known John Lord Hervey, but nowhere in our author’s writings -does it appear that the least suspicion of spurious parentage[5] -had entered his thoughts. Everywhere he exults in being sprung from -the great Prime Minister; everywhere he is devoted to the memory of -his mother, to whom he raised a monument in Westminster Abbey, with -an inscription from his own pen celebrating her virtue. And in the -concluding words of this epigraph, he repeated a saying, which he has -elsewhere recorded, of the poet Pope, that Lady Walpole was “untainted -by a Court.” - -Walpole tells us that, in the first years of his life, being an -extremely delicate child, he was much indulged both by his mother and -Sir Robert; and as an instance of this, he relates the well-known -story, how his longing to see the King was gratified by his mother -carrying him to St. James’s to kiss the hand of George I. just before -his Majesty began his last journey to Hanover. Shortly after this, -the boy was sent to Eton, from which period we hear no more of Lady -Walpole, though she survived till August, 1737. In 1735, young Horace -proceeded from Eton to King’s College, Cambridge, where he resided, -though with long intervals of absence, until after he came of age. On -quitting the University, he was in possession of a handsome income -arising from the patent place of Usher of the Exchequer, to which he -had recently been appointed, and which was then reckoned worth £900 a -year, and from two other small patent places in the Exchequer, those of -Clerk of the Escheats and Controller of the Pipe, producing together -about £300 a year, which had been held for him during his minority. All -these offices had been procured for him by Sir Robert Walpole, and were -sinecures, or capable of being executed by deputy. - -Finding himself thus provided for and at leisure, the fortunate youth -set out on the continental tour which was considered indispensable for -a man of fashion. He travelled, as he tells us, at his own expense; -and being well able to afford the luxury of a companion, he took -with him Thomas Gray the poet, who had been his associate at Eton -and Cambridge. The pair visited together various parts of France and -Italy, making a stay of some duration at several places. After a few -weeks spent in Paris, they settled at Rheims for three months to study -French. They lived here with their former school-mate, Henry Seymour -Conway,[6] Walpole’s maternal cousin; and here appears to have been -cemented the lifelong friendship between Conway and Walpole which forms -perhaps the most honourable feature in the history of the latter. At -Florence, Walpole resided for more than twelve months in the house of -Horace Mann, British Envoy to the Court of Tuscany, with whom he formed -an intimacy, which was maintained, from the time of his leaving Italy -until the death of Mann forty-five years after, by correspondence only, -without the parties ever meeting again. Gray remained with Walpole -at Florence, and accompanied him in visits which he made thence to -Rome, Naples, and other places; but at Reggio a dissension arose -between them, and they parted to return home by different routes. -Walpole subsequently took the blame of this dispute upon himself. “It -arose,” he says, “from Gray being too serious a companion. Gray was for -antiquities, I was for perpetual balls and plays; the fault was mine.” -According to another account, Walpole had opened a letter addressed to -Gray. Whatever was the cause of the breach, it was repaired three years -later, and during the rest of the poet’s life he continued on friendly -terms with his early companion. - -Walpole reached England in September, 1741, just before the meeting -of a new Parliament, and at the commencement of the Session took his -seat as member for Callington, in Cornwall, for which place he had -been elected during his absence. Sir Robert’s Government was at that -time in the midst of the difficulties which soon afterwards caused -its downfall. In February, 1742, the defeated Minister resigned, and -was created Earl of Orford. Horace, as was to be expected, took no -prominent part in the struggle. His maiden speech was delivered in -March, 1742, on a motion for an inquiry into the conduct of Sir Robert -Walpole during the last ten years of his administration. The young -orator was received with favour by the House, and obtained a compliment -from the great William Pitt; but the success of his effort, which is -preserved in one of his letters to Mann, must be attributed entirely -to the circumstances under which it was uttered. It does not appear -that he afterwards acquired any reputation in debate. Indeed, he was -generally content to be a listener. That he was a constant attendant -at the House, his correspondence sufficiently proves, but he rarely -took an active part in its proceedings. He has recorded a dispute he -had with Speaker Onslow in his second Parliament. In 1751 he moved -the address to the King at the opening of the Session, and five years -later we find him speaking on a question of employing Swiss troops -in the Colonies. In 1757 he exerted himself with much zeal in favour -of the unfortunate Admiral Byng. This, however, was by argument and -solicitation outside the House. In like manner, some years afterwards, -he made strenuous, though vain, endeavours, at the conferences of his -party, to persuade them not to support the exclusion of the King’s -mother from the Regency which was provided for on the first serious -illness of George III. - -These are the chief incidents of Walpole’s public career, although -he remained in the House of Commons for twenty-seven years. At the -General Election of 1754 he was chosen for the family borough of Castle -Rising in Norfolk, but vacated this seat soon afterwards in order to -be a candidate for the town of King’s Lynn, which had for many years -returned his father to Parliament. Horace continued to represent Lynn -until the Dissolution of 1768, when he took leave of his constituents, -and was no longer seen in Westminster Hall. Perhaps the final reason -for his retirement was the failure of his friend Conway to retain a -foremost position in politics. After serving as Secretary of State -and Leader of the House of Commons under three successive Premiers, -Conway, through feebleness of purpose, lost his hold upon office, and -fell for some years into the background. But with disappointment for -his friend, there must have mingled in Walpole’s mind a feeling of -dissatisfaction with himself. Few men acquire much weight in Parliament -who do not at least occasionally take a share in its discussions; and -Horace had more than once found that his influence in the House was by -no means proportioned to his general reputation for ability. He was -therefore quite ready to withdraw when Conway could no longer profit -by his vote. Though at all times a keen politician, and extremely -social in his habits, he was unfitted by nature for the conflicts of -the Parliamentary arena. Desultory skirmishing with the pen was more to -his taste than the close fighting of debate. During more than half his -life, the war of parties was largely carried on by anonymous pamphlets, -and Walpole gave powerful help in this way to his side; afterwards, -when letters and articles in newspapers took the place of pamphlets, he -became an occasional contributor to the public journals. - -But Walpole found in art and literature the chief employment of his -serious hours. His reading was extensive, the most solid portion of -it being in the regions of history and archæology. More engrossing -than his love of books was his passion for collecting and imitating -antiquities and curiosities of all kinds. His ample fortune furnished -him with the means of indulging these expensive pursuits. The -emoluments of the Usher of the Exchequer greatly increased during -his tenure of that post: in time of war--and England was often at war -in those days--they were sometimes very large. Walpole admits that -in one year he received as much as £4,200 from this source; and the -Commissioners of Accounts in 1782 thought that the annual value of the -place might fairly be stated at that sum. There was an antique flavour -about these gains which gave Walpole almost as much pleasure as the -money itself. The duties of the Usher were to shut the gates of the -Exchequer, and to provide the Exchequer and Treasury with the paper, -parchment, pens, ink, sand, wax, tape, and other articles of a similar -nature used in those departments. The latter of these duties, which -was said to be as old as the reign of Edward III. at least, formed -the lucrative part of the Usher’s employment, as he was allowed large -profits on the goods he thus purveyed to the Crown. Obviously the -income of such an office, while varying with the financial business -of each year, must have steadily advanced on the whole with the -progress of the nation. Besides this place, and the two other patent -places before mentioned, in all of which he continued until his death, -Walpole enjoyed for many years a principal share in the income of -the Collectorship of the Customs. Sir Robert Walpole held the last -appointment under a patent which entitled him to dispose as he pleased -of the reversion during the lives of his two eldest sons, Robert and -Edward. Accordingly, he appointed that, after his death, £1,000 a year -of the income should be paid to his youngest son Horace during the -subsistence of the patent, and that the remainder should be divided -equally between Horace and Edward. By this arrangement, Horace at the -age of twenty-seven--for his father died in March, 1745--stepped into -another income of about £1,400 a year, which lasted until the death of -his brother Sir Edward Walpole in 1784. In his writings he speaks, with -becoming gratitude, of the places and emoluments bestowed on him by his -father as being a noble provision for a third son. Having thus nobly -provided at the public expense for a child who had not yet shown any -merit or capacity, Sir Robert did not find it needful to do much for -him out of his private property. By his will, he bequeathed Horace only -a sum of £5,000 charged on his Norfolk estate, and a leasehold house in -Arlington Street. The greater part of the legacy remained unpaid for -forty years; the house Horace occupied until the term expired in 1781, -when he bought a residence in Berkeley Square. As Walpole was never -married, it is not surprising that he died worth ninety-one thousand -pounds in the funds, besides other property, including his town house -just mentioned, and his villa at Twickenham with its collection of -pictures and other works of art. - -The fantastic little pile of buildings which he raised on the margin -of the Thames engaged his chief attention for many years. He purchased -the site of this in 1748, there being nothing then on the land but a -cottage, and called it Strawberry Hill, a name which he found in one of -the title-deeds. He had taken a lease the year before of the cottage, -with part of the land, from Mrs. Chenevix, a fashionable toy-dealer, -and thus describes his acquisition in a letter to Conway: “It is a -little plaything-house that I got out of Mrs. Chenevix’s shop, and is -the prettiest bauble you ever saw. It is set in enamelled meadows, with -filigree hedges: - - ‘A small Euphrates through the piece is rolled, - And little finches wave their wings in gold.’ - -Two delightful roads, that you would call dusty, supply me continually -with coaches and chaises: barges as solemn as Barons of the Exchequer -move under my window; Richmond Hill and Ham walks bound my prospect; -but thank God! the Thames is between me and the Duchess of Queensberry. -Dowagers as plenty as flounders inhabit all around, and Pope’s ghost is -just now skimming under my window by a most poetical moonlight. I have -about land enough to keep such a farm as Noah’s, when he set up in the -Ark with a pair of each kind; but my cottage is rather cleaner than I -believe his was after they had been cooped up together forty days. The -Chenevixes had tricked it out for themselves: up two pair of stairs -is what they call Mr. Chenevix’s library, furnished with three maps, -one shelf, a bust of Sir Isaac Newton, and a lame telescope without -any glasses. Lord John Sackville _predeceased_ me here, and instituted -certain games called _cricketalia_, which have been celebrated this -very evening in honour of him in a neighbouring meadow.” - -Having completed his purchase, Walpole proceeded to make improvements. -His antiquarian studies had inspired him with a fondness for Gothic -architecture. But his zeal was not according to much knowledge, nor -guided by a very pure taste. Gradually the little cottage became merged -in a strange nondescript edifice, half castle, half cloister, with all -kinds of grotesque decorations. “The Castle,” so Walpole called it, -“was,” he tells us, “not entirely built from the ground, but formed at -different times, by alterations of, and additions to, the old small -house. The Library and Refectory, or Great Parlour, was entirely -new-built in 1753; the Gallery, Round Tower, Great Cloister, and -Cabinet, in 1760 and 1761; the Great North Bed-chamber in 1770; and the -Beauclerk Tower with the Hexagon Closet in 1776.” In a small cloister, -outside the house, stood the blue and white china bowl, commemorated -by Gray, in which Walpole’s cat was drowned. On the staircase was the -famous armour of Francis I. In the Gallery, among many other treasures, -were placed the Roman eagle and the bust of Vespasian, so often -mentioned in their owner’s correspondence. The buildings were no more -substantial in structure than they were correct in style. Much cheap -ridicule has been poured upon “the Castle,” as “a most trumpery piece -of ginger-bread Gothic,” with “pie-crust battlements,” and “pinnacles -of lath and plaster.” Many of its faults and absurdities must in -justice be referred to the novelty of the attempt to apply a disused -style to the requirements of a modern domestic residence. Walpole -himself was by no means blind to the flimsiness and incongruities of -his creation. He was rather indignant, indeed, when a French visitor -censured it as “non digne de la solidité Anglaise;” but in his own -description of it he calls it “a paper fabric,” and speaks of the house -and its decorations as “a mixture which may be denominated, in some -words of Pope: - - ‘A Gothic Vatican of Greece and Rome.’” - -With the help of Mr. Essex, who assisted him in designing the later -portions, he gradually learned the depth of the architectural ignorance -in which he and the “Committee,” who were his first advisers, had been -involved at the commencement of his work. In short, Strawberry Hill, -child’s baby-house as it was, proved the first step in the renascence -of Gothic art. - -As chamber after chamber was added to the Castle, it became Walpole’s -next care to fill them with fresh antiques in furniture, pictures, -bronzes, armour, painted glass, and other like articles. “In his -villa,” says Lord Macaulay, “every apartment is a museum, every piece -of furniture is a curiosity; there is something strange in the form -of the shovel; there is a long story belonging to the bell-rope. We -wander among a profusion of rarities, of trifling intrinsic value, -but so quaint in fashion, or connected with such remarkable names and -events, that they may well detain our attention for a moment. A moment -is enough. Some new relic, some new unique, some new carved work, some -new enamel, is forthcoming in an instant. One cabinet of trinkets is no -sooner closed than another is opened.” - -Of Walpole’s writings other than his letters, we do not propose -to offer any detailed account or criticism. His earliest work, -“Ædes Walpolianæ,” was published as early as 1747; it was merely a -description of his father’s pictures at Houghton Hall, the family -seat in Norfolk. Among his next efforts were some papers contributed -in 1753 and following years to a periodical work of the day, called -_The World_.[7] Most persons have read the “Castle of Otranto,” so -warmly applauded by the author of “Ivanhoe.” Most students of art, we -suppose, are acquainted with Walpole’s “Anecdotes of Painting,” and his -“Catalogue of Engravers.” His “Catalogue of Noble and Royal Authors,” -though abounding in agreeable anecdotes, is probably now consulted by -few; and his “Historic Doubts on the Life and Reign of Richard III.,” -acute and ingenious as it was, cannot detain anyone who is aware of the -recent researches on the same subject. His “Reminiscences of the Courts -of George I. and George II.,” and his “Memoirs” and “Journals” relating -to the reigns of George II. and George III., are, and must ever remain, -among the most valuable historical documents of the eighteenth century. -The Reminiscences were written for the amusement of the Misses Berry, -and have been extolled with justice as being, both in manner and -matter, the very perfection of anecdote writing. The rest of Walpole’s -works, including his tragedy of “The Mysterious Mother”--the merits -of which, whatever they may be, are cancelled by the atrocity of the -fable--are as nearly as possible forgotten. - -Not content with writing and collecting books, Horace in 1757 -established a printing press in the grounds of Strawberry Hill. -The first printer employed by him was William Robinson; the last, -Thomas Kirgate, whose name will often be found in the following -extracts. The first work printed at this press was Gray’s “Odes,” -with Bentley’s Illustrations. Its other productions include Walpole’s -own Royal and Noble Authors, Anecdotes of Painting, Engravers, and -Tragedy; his “Description of Strawberry Hill,” and “Fugitive Pieces;” -besides several works by other authors, such as Bentley’s “Lucan,” -Lord Herbert’s Life, a translation of Hentzner’s “Travels,” and Lord -Whitworth’s “Account of Russia;” as well as small collections of verses -by sundry friends. These “Strawberry Hill” editions are now scarce, and -command high prices. - -The rest of our author’s career may be summed up in a few words. His -eldest brother had died early, and had been succeeded by an only son, -whose profligacy and occasional fits of insanity caused much trouble. -In December, 1791, when seventy-four years of age, Horace became, by -the death of this nephew, Earl of Orford, which made little addition to -his income, the family estate being heavily incumbered. The inheritance -was far from welcome. In a letter to a friend, he says he does not -understand the management of such an estate, and is too old to learn. -“A source of lawsuits among my near relations, endless conversations -with lawyers, and packets of letters to read every day and answer--all -this weight of new business is too much for the rag of life that yet -hangs about me.”[8] He never took his seat in the House of Lords. He -lived for upwards of five years longer, in the full possession of all -his faculties, though suffering great bodily infirmity from the effects -of gout, to which he was long a martyr. He died at his house, No. 11, -Berkeley Square, on the 2nd of March, 1797, in his eightieth year, and -was buried at the family seat of Houghton. With him the male line of -Sir Robert Walpole and the title of Orford became extinct. The estate -of Houghton descended to the fourth Earl of Cholmondeley, grandson of -Horace Walpole’s younger sister Mary, who married the third earl of -that ilk. Strawberry Hill was at its founder’s absolute disposal, and -he left it, as already mentioned, to Mrs. Damer, Conway’s daughter, but -for life only, with limitations over in strict settlement. - -“It is somewhat curious,” says his biographer, “as a proof of the -inconsistency of the human mind, that, having built his Castle with so -little view to durability, Walpole entailed the perishable possession -with a degree of strictness which would have been more fitting for a -baronial estate. And that, too, after having written a fable entitled -‘The Entail,’ in consequence of some one having asked him whether he -did not intend to entail Strawberry Hill, and in ridicule of such a -proceeding.” - -Inconsistency, caprice, eccentricity, affectation, are faults which -have been freely charged against the character of Horace Walpole. His -strong prejudices and antipathies, his pride of rank, his propensity -to satire, even his sensitive temperament, made him many enemies, who -not only exaggerated his failings, but succeeded, in some instances at -least, in transmitting their personal resentments to men of the present -century. - -As a politician, especially, Walpole has received rather hard measure -from the partisan critics on both sides. A generation back, Whig -Reviewers and Tory Reviewers vied with each other in defaming his -memory. Macaulay and Croker, who seldom agreed in anything, were of one -accord in this. To Croker, of course, Horace was just a place-holder -who furnished a telling example of Whig jobbery. To rake up all the -details of his places in the Exchequer, and his “rider,” or charge, -on the place in the Customs, to compute and exaggerate his gains from -each of these sources, to track him in dark intrigues for extending his -tenure of one appointment and bettering his position in another; all -this was congenial employment for the Rigby of the nineteenth century, -as it would have been for his prototype in the eighteenth. The motive -of Macaulay’s deadly attack is not quite so obvious. Walpole’s politics -were those of his father and of the old Whigs generally. While in -theory inclined to Republicanism--though he was never, as he tells -us, quite a Republican[9]--it was his habit, on practical questions, -to consider what course the great Sir Robert would have taken under -similar circumstances. There seems nothing in all this to excite the -wrath of the most atrabilious Liberal. The truth appears to be that, -in the Whig circles of Macaulay’s time, there existed a traditional -grudge against Horace Walpole. In the “Memorials of Charles James -Fox,” which were arranged by Lord Vassall-Holland, and edited by Lord -John Russell, both the noble commentators speak of Horace in terms of -undisguised bitterness. Nor is the cause very far to seek. In politics, -Conway was under the dominion of Walpole; and Conway, on more than one -critical occasion, disobliged the Rockingham faction, from which the -modern Whigs deduce their origin. “Conway,” says Lord John Russell, -writing of the events of 1766, “had been made Secretary of State by -Lord Rockingham, and ought to have resigned when Lord Rockingham -left office; but Mr. Walpole did not choose that this should be so.” -Sixteen years later, Conway sat again in a Cabinet presided over by -Lord Rockingham, and when that nobleman died, he again refused to -resign. It will be remembered that, on this occasion, the Cavendishes -and Fox quitted their places when the Treasury was given to Lord -Shelburne, instead of their own nominee, the Duke of Portland, whose -only recommendations were that he was Lord of Welbeck, and had married -a daughter of the House of Devonshire. - -In 1782, the Duke of Richmond, Conway’s son-in-law, concurred with -Conway in declining to desert the new Premier; and we know that Walpole -stoutly supported, if he did not dictate, the joint resolution of his -two friends. Lord Holland tells us that Fox did not like Walpole at -all, and accounts for this dislike by suggesting that his uncle may -have imbibed some prejudice against Walpole for unkindness shown to the -first Lord Holland. But this seems going needlessly far back for an -explanation. There can be no doubt that Fox looked on Walpole as having -assisted to thwart his design of governing England in the name of the -insignificant Duke of Portland, and detested him accordingly. Nor did -subsequent events tend to soften Fox’s recollection of this passage -in his life, or of the persons concerned in it. Had he overcome his -jealousy of Lord Shelburne, or had he succeeded in compelling his rival -to bow before the “wooden idol”--so Lord John Russell himself calls -Portland--which he had set up, he would probably, in either case, have -avoided the ill-famed coalition with Lord North, which was the main -cause of his long-continued exclusion from power. Walpole had spoken -his mind very plainly on the subject. “It is very entertaining,” he -wrote, “that two or three great families should persuade themselves -that they have an hereditary and exclusive right of giving us a head -without a tongue.”[10] And he told Fox himself: “My Whiggism is not -confined to the Peak of Derbyshire.”[11] We can imagine with what -horror such utterances as these were received by the believers in the -Whig doctrine of divine right. No wonder that Mr. Fox did not like -Walpole. And what Mr. Fox disliked was, of course, anathema to every -true Whig, and especially to an Edinburgh Reviewer of 1833. - -What do the complaints of Walpole’s political tergiversation amount -to? It was certainly not a wise act of Horace to hang up in his -bedroom an engraving of the death warrant of Charles I. with the -inscription “Major Charta.” But the Whig essayist, while reproving -Walpole’s strange fancy that, without the instrument in question, -the Great Charter would have become of little importance, might -have recollected that he had himself professed his inability to see -any essential distinction between the execution of the Royal Martyr -and the deposition of his son. Again, there was inconsistency, no -doubt, between Walpole’s admiration of the Long Parliament, and his -detestation of the National Assembly; yet it should be borne in mind -that, in the midst of his disgust at the excesses of the French -Revolution, he protested that he was very far from subscribing to the -whole of Burke’s “Reflections.” Why then should we be told that “he -was frightened into a fanatical royalist, and became one of the most -extravagant alarmists of those wretched times?” We may surely ask on -his behalf the question which Macaulay put when the consistency of his -own master, Sir James Mackintosh, was impugned: “Why is one person to -be singled out from among millions, and arraigned before posterity -as a traitor to his opinions, only because events produced on him the -effect which they produced on a whole generation?” - -When the critic tells us that Walpole was a mischief-maker who -“sometimes contrived, without showing himself, to disturb the course of -Ministerial negotiations, and to spread confusion through the political -circles,” we cannot avoid seeing in these words a resentful reference -to the part taken by Conway on the occasions above referred to. - -It was not Walpole’s fault that the party conflicts of his time were -mainly about persons. We have seen the importance which Fox attached -to these personal questions. We may safely say that this great man’s -disapproval of Walpole’s conduct did not spring from any difference -on matters of principle. If Horace was an opponent of Parliamentary -Reform, this was an open question among Fox’s most intimate associates. -If he objected to the enfranchisement of the Roman Catholics, most -Whigs of his time did the same. In the dispute with America, as we -shall see, he maintained, from the first, the right of the Colonies -to liberty and independence. Nor did he retract his expressions of -sympathy with the American Republic when the horrors of the French -Revolution made him a supporter of Tory policy in England and on the -Continent. He always lamented as one of the worst effects of the -French excesses that they must necessarily retard the progress and -establishment of civil liberty.[12] - -There were questions of social politics on which he was far in -advance of his times. “We have been sitting,” he wrote, on the 25th -of February, 1750, “this fortnight on the African Company. We, the -British Senate, that temple of liberty, and bulwark of Protestant -Christianity, have, this fortnight, been considering methods to make -more effectual that horrid traffic of selling negroes. It has appeared -to us that six-and-forty thousand of these wretches are sold every year -to our plantations alone! It chills one’s blood--I would not have to -say I voted for it for the Continent of America! The destruction of the -miserable inhabitants by the Spaniards was but a momentary misfortune -that followed from the discovery of the New World, compared with the -lasting havoc which it brought upon Africa. We reproach Spain, and yet -do not even pretend the nonsense of butchering these poor creatures for -the good of their souls.”[13] The sentiments thus declared by Walpole -nine years before Wilberforce was born, he steadily adhered to through -life. On this point, at least, no one has ever charged him with any -wavering or inconsistency. - -We will mention, before passing on to different topics, one other -matter on which Walpole shows a liberality of feeling quite unusual -at any period of his life. In the summer of 1762, he writes: “I am in -distress about my Gallery and Cabinet: the latter was on the point -of being completed, and is really striking beyond description. Last -Saturday night my workmen took their leave, made their bow, and left -me up to the knees in shavings. In short, the journeymen carpenters, -like the cabinet-makers, have entered into an association not to work -unless their wages are raised; and how can one complain? The poor -fellows, whose all the labour is, see their masters advance their -prices every day, and think it reasonable to touch their share.”[14] - - * * * * * - -In the domain of literature, Walpole’s opinions were largely influenced -by his social position and personal connexions. He rated the class -of professional writers as much below as they have ever been rated -above their real deserts; and this may perhaps help to explain the -rancour with which he has been pursued by some critics. He could -see nothing wonderful in the art of stringing sentences together. -He met famous authors daily in society, and did not find that they -were wiser or more accomplished than their neighbours. Most of them -showed to little advantage in the drawing-rooms in which he felt his -own life completest. Gray seldom opened his lips; Goldsmith “talked -like poor poll”; Johnson was Ursa Major--a brute with whom Horace -declined to be acquainted; Hume’s powers of mind did not appear in -his broad unmeaning face, nor animate his awkward conversation; even -Gibbon made a bad figure as often as any doubt was hinted as to the -transcendent importance of his luminous or voluminous history. As for -the novelists, neither Fielding nor Richardson ever ascended to the -sublime heights in which Horace dwelt at ease. Stories circulated -there of vulgar orgies amidst which the biographer of Tom Jones -performed his police functions, and of requests made by the author of -“Clarissa” to his female admirers for information as to the manners -of polite life. Walpole shrank from the coarseness of the one, and -smiled at the attempts of the other to describe a sphere which he -had never entered. We are not to suppose, however, that Horace was -as blind to the gradations of literary rank as some would have us -believe. When he told Mann that _The World_ was the work of “our first -writers,” instancing Lord Chesterfield, Sir Charles Hanbury Williams, -and other well-born dilettanti whose names have now sunk into oblivion -or neglect, it is clear that he was speaking with reference to the -matter in hand. It did not occur to him that great historians and poets -would be likely or suitable contributors to a series of light papers -intended for the macaronis of the hour. What he regarded as the chief -qualification of himself and his friends who wrote for this fashionable -journal was their familiarity with the tone of the best society. For -himself, Walpole constantly disclaimed all pretence to learning or -exact knowledge of any kind, and, due allowance made for the vanity of -which undoubtedly he owned an ample share, there seems no reason to -question his sincerity. We conceive, indeed, that his estimate of his -own talents and acquirements was much more accurate than it has usually -been considered. In all that related to literary fame, his vanity -showed itself rather in depreciating the advantages which he had not, -than in exalting those which he possessed. If he did not worship style, -still less was he disposed to bow down before study and research. Hence -the low esteem in which he held authors of all kinds. Some excuses may -be made for his disparaging criticisms. The literati of his day were -certainly eclipsed by the contemporary orators. What writer was left in -prose or verse, on the death of Swift, who could compare with Mansfield -or the first William Pitt? Which of the poets or historians of the next -generation won the applause which was called forth by the speeches of -Fox or Sheridan or the younger Pitt? If Fox and Sheridan could obtain -their greatest triumphs in the midst of gambling and dissipation, and -apparently without pains or application, there was some apology for -slighting the labours of Robertson and the carefully polished verses -of Goldsmith. With the exception of Lord Chatham, whom he strongly -disliked, Walpole generally does justice to the great speakers of his -time, on whichever side in politics they were ranged; if he gives no -credit for genius to the writers of the age, this was partly at least -because their genius was of no striking or signal order. Judgment, -sense, and spirit were Pope’s three marks for distinguishing a great -writer from an inferior one, and these continued to be the criteria -applicable, even in the department of so-called works of imagination, -down to the end of the century. - -Walpole, as in duty bound, was a professed worshipper of Shakespeare -and Milton, but we suspect that his worship was not very hearty. It is -clear that Pope was the poet of his choice; and he seems to have known -every line of his favourite by heart. He admired also the exquisite -poetry of Gray, and this admiration was no doubt sincere; but we are -disposed to think that it arose entirely from the early connexion -between Horace and the author, and from the feeling that Gray, in some -sort, belonged to him. Gray was Walpole’s poet, as Conway was his -statesman; and the sense of ownership, which converted his cousinly -regard for Conway into a species of idolatry, turned to enthusiasm for -Gray’s “Odes” the critical estimate which would otherwise, we feel -sure, have ended in a pretty strong aversion. - -What Walpole said, rather uncharitably, of Sir Joshua Reynolds, may, we -fear, be applied with more justice to Walpole himself. All his geese -were swans, as the swans of others were geese in his eyes. Conway -was a man of integrity and honour, an excellent soldier, a fluent -speaker, but he was a timid and vacillating politician. That phase of -their weakness which makes the vainglorious pique themselves on having -remarkable friends, is certainly not unamiable, though it is sometimes -fatiguing. We all know the man who congratulates himself on his good -fortune in being the associate of the versatile Dr. A., the high-souled -Mr. B., the original Mr. C., and so on. Had Horace possessed a wife, -he would have wearied all his acquaintance with encomiums on her -beauty, wit, wisdom, and other matchless perfections. Having no wife -to celebrate, he chose to sing the praises of General Conway, and sang -them lustily, and with good courage. This was the more disinterested, -as Conway appears to have been distinctly one of those persons who -allow themselves to be loved. There is no questioning the genuineness -of a devotion which undoubtedly entailed on Walpole great sacrifices. -The time and labour which Horace bestowed in the service of his -friend’s ambition entitle him to full credit for honesty in the offer -which he made to share his fortune with the latter, when, at an early -stage of his career, he was dismissed from his employments for opposing -the Ministry of the day. - -This was not the only occasion on which Walpole showed himself capable -of uncommon generosity. He made a similar offer to Madame du Deffand, -when she was threatened with the loss of her pension. That clever -leader of French society was not, like Conway, a connexion of long -standing, but a mere recent acquaintance of Horace, who had no claim -on him beyond the pleasure she had shown in his company, and the pity -which her blind and helpless old age demanded. In the event, the -lady did not require his assistance, but her letters prove that she -had full confidence in his intentions, notwithstanding the harshness -with which he sometimes repressed her expressions of affection. The -same temperament which made him fond of displaying his intimacy with -Conway, caused him to dread the ridicule of being supposed to have -an attachment for the poor old Marquise. Hence arose the occasional -semblance of unkindness, which was contradicted by substantial proofs -of regard, and which must be set down to undue sensitiveness on the -gentleman’s side rather than to want of consideration. - -The coldness of heart with which Walpole is reproached has, we think, -been exaggerated. “His affections were bestowed on few; for in early -life they had never been cultivated.” So much is admitted by Miss -Berry, a most favourable witness. But in society generally, Horace -appears to have shown himself friendly and obliging. His aristocratic -pride did not prevent him from mixing freely with persons much his -inferiors in station. Miss Hawkins, daughter of the historian of -music, who for many years lived near him at Twickenham, testifies -to his sociable and liberal temper; and Walpole’s own letters show -that he was at some trouble to assist Sir John Hawkins in collecting -materials for his work. The correspondence between Horace and his -deputies in the Exchequer proves the kindly feeling that subsisted -between him and them; and also reveals the fact that he employed them -from time to time in dispensing charities which he did not wish to -have disclosed. And Miss Berry records that, during his later life, -although no ostentatious contributor to public charities and schemes of -improvement, the friends in whose opinion he could confide had always -more difficulty to repress than to excite his liberality. - -His temper, says Sir Walter Scott, was precarious. Walpole, we believe, -would readily have pleaded guilty to this charge. That he felt his -infirmity in this respect his Letters sufficiently show; he assigns -it as the chief reason why he preferred to live alone. Gray was not -the only one of his early friends with whom he quarrelled. He became -estranged at different times from Ashton, another college companion; -from Bentley, whose taste and talent he had employed in decorating his -Castle; from George Montagu,[15] who, next to Conway, was long his most -intimate friend; and from Mason the poet; not to mention other names. -Whatever blame may attach to Walpole for these ruptures, it seems to -be now pretty well agreed that in the matter of Chatterton he was -guiltless. On this subject, we need only quote a few sentences from -Scott. “His memory,” says Sir Walter, “has suffered most on account -of his conduct towards Chatterton, in which we have always thought he -was perfectly defensible. That unhappy son of genius endeavoured to -impose upon Walpole a few stanzas of very inferior merit, as ancient; -and sent him an equally gross and palpable imposture under the shape -of a pretended ‘List of Painters.’ Walpole’s sole crime lies in not -patronizing at once a young man who only appeared before him in the -character of a very inartificial impostor, though he afterwards proved -himself a gigantic one. The fate of Chatterton lies, not at the door -of Walpole, but of the public at large, who two years, we believe, -afterwards were possessed of the splendid proofs of his natural powers, -and any one of whom was as much called upon as Walpole to prevent the -most unhappy catastrophe.”[16] - -We turn from Walpole’s life and character to his Letters. We have -already mentioned the friends to whom the earlier portion of these -were chiefly addressed. Other friends to whom he occasionally wrote -were Lord Hertford, Conway’s elder brother, Lord Strafford, Cole, the -antiquary of Cambridge, and John Chute, with whom he had been intimate -at Florence. The names of some later correspondents will appear as we -proceed, of whom such an account as may seem necessary will be given -as they come before us. Of the pains and skill with which the matter -of each letter is adapted to the person for whom it was intended, our -readers will be able to judge for themselves. That the author had -studied letter-writing as an art, is a remark almost too trivial to -be repeated. It is hardly too much to say that he made it his chief -literary business. “Mine,” he said, “is a life of letter-writing.” That -he counted on being remembered by his letters far more than by any -other of his writings, we hold to be as certain as any statement of the -kind can be. He had, we believe, gauged his powers far more correctly -than is commonly supposed, and was satisfied that in this kind of -composition, more than in any other, he had produced something of -permanent value. He had studied closely the letters of Gray and Madame -de Sévigné, and formed his own style from them. The letters of the -latter were his especial delight. He read them over until they became -part of his own mind. Nothing interested him so much as a rumour that -some fresh letters of “Notre Dame des Rochers” had been discovered. It -may be too much to say, as Miss Berry has said, that Walpole has shown -our language to be capable of all the graces and all the charms of the -French of the great writer whom he imitated. But, due allowance made -for the superiority of French idiom and French finesse in a department -where they appear to most advantage, it may safely be affirmed that, if -variety and interest of topics be regarded as well as style, Walpole’s -letters are unrivalled. It was only by degrees that Horace attained to -the perfection of easy engaging writing. His earlier letters betray -signs of considerable labour. It is said that a summary prepared -beforehand of one of his letters to Montagu was found in looking over -some of his correspondence. In later days he wrote with the greatest -facility, even carrying on a conversation the while. But he continued -to the last the habit of putting down on the backs of letters or slips -of paper, a note of facts, of news, of witticisms, or of anything he -wished not to forget for the amusement of his correspondents. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - Country Life.--Ranelagh Gardens.--The Rebel Lords.--The - Earthquake.--A Frolic at Vauxhall.--Capture of a - Housebreaker.--Strawberry Hill.--The Beautiful - Gunnings.--Sterne. - - -We pass over such of Walpole’s letters as were written before his -return from his travels. They are interesting chiefly as parts of a -correspondence carried on by four young men of talent--Gray, West, -Ashton, and Horace himself--who, having been schoolfellows, had formed -what they called a quadruple alliance; and it must be owned that -Walpole in this correspondence shines less than Gray, who appears to -have been the mentor of the group, and less, too, perhaps than West, -whose early death disappointed great hopes. We omit, besides, all -reference to the letters in which Horace described the great Walpolean -battle, and traced the fortunes of the Broad Bottom Administration. -And, with few exceptions, his accounts of later political events have -also been excluded. The additions which his gossiping chronicles have -made to our knowledge of these matters have been incorporated in most -recent histories of the period; the extracts given in the present -volume are designed, as a rule, to illustrate the history of manners -rather than of politics. - -From the moment of his return from the Continent until he lost his -father, Horace lived in the old statesman’s house, dividing his time, -for the most part, between the House of Commons and the amusements of -fashionable society. In the latter sphere, the Honourable Mr. Walpole -soon achieved success. Several years afterwards, he defined himself -as a dancing senator. His first season witnessed the opening of -Ranelagh Gardens, which at once became the resort of the great world. -Grave ministers and privy councillors were to be seen there in the -crowd of beauties and macaronis. Horace relates that he carried Sir -Robert thither just before attending him on his retreat to Houghton. -Constrained by filial duty, the young man revisited the family seat in -each of the two following years, but he went sorely against his will. -With his father’s coarse habits and boisterous manners he had nothing -in common; his feeble constitution was unequal to the sports of the -field, and the drinking that then accompanied them; nor could the -scenery of Norfolk, which he disliked, make him forget the excitements -of Westminster and Chelsea. Yet to these visits to Houghton his readers -owe some entertaining sketches of English country life in the middle of -the eighteenth century. Take, for instance, the following lively letter -addressed to John Chute, whose acquaintance he had made at Florence: - - “Houghton, August 20, 1743. - - “Indeed, my dear Sir, you certainly did not use to be stupid, - and till you give me more substantial proof that you are so, - I shall not believe it. As for your temperate diet and milk - bringing about such a metamorphosis, I hold it impossible. - I have such lamentable proofs every day before my eyes of - the stupifying qualities of beef, ale, and wine, that I have - contracted a most religious veneration for your spiritual - nouriture. Only imagine that I here every day see men, who - are mountains of roast beef, and only seem just roughly hewn - out into the outlines of human form, like the giant-rock at - Pratolino! I shudder when I see them brandish their knives - in act to carve, and look on them as savages that devour one - another. I should not stare at all more than I do, if yonder - Alderman at the lower end of the table was to stick his fork - into his neighbour’s jolly cheek, and cut a brave slice of - brown and fat. Why, I’ll swear I see no difference between a - country gentleman and a sirloin; whenever the first laughs, - or the latter is cut, there run out just the same streams - of gravy! Indeed, the sirloin does not ask quite so many - questions. I have an Aunt here, a family piece of goods, an old - remnant of inquisitive hospitality and economy, who, to all - intents and purposes, is as beefy as her neighbours. She wore - me so down yesterday with interrogatories, that I dreamt all - night she was at my ear with ‘who’s’ and ‘why’s,’ and ‘when’s’ - and ‘where’s,’ till at last in my very sleep I cried out, ‘For - heaven’s sake, Madam, ask me no more questions!’ - - “Oh! my dear Sir, don’t you find that nine parts in ten of the - world are of no use but to make you wish yourself with that - tenth part? I am so far from growing used to mankind by living - amongst them, that my natural ferocity and wildness does but - every day grow worse. They tire me, they fatigue me; I don’t - know what to do with them; I don’t know what to say to them; I - fling open the windows, and fancy I want air; and when I get - by myself, I undress myself, and seem to have had people in - my pockets, in my plaits, and on my shoulders! I indeed find - this fatigue worse in the country than in town, because one can - avoid it there and has more resources; but it is there too. I - fear ’tis growing old; but I literally seem to have murdered - a man whose name was Ennui, for his ghost is ever before me. - They say there is no English word for _ennui_; I think you may - translate it most literally by what is called ‘entertaining - people,’ and ‘doing the honours:’ that is, you sit an hour with - somebody you don’t know and don’t care for, talk about the wind - and the weather, and ask a thousand foolish questions, which - all begin with, ‘I think you live a good deal in the country,’ - or, ‘I think you don’t love this thing or that.’ Oh! ’tis - dreadful! - - “I’ll tell you what is delightful--the Dominichin![17] My - dear Sir, if ever there was a Dominichin, if there was ever - an original picture, this is one. I am quite happy; for my - father is as much transported with it as I am. It is hung in - the gallery, where are all his most capital pictures, and he - himself thinks it beats all but the two Guidos. That of the - Doctors and the Octagon--I don’t know if you ever saw them? - What a chain of thought this leads me into! but why should I - not indulge it? I will flatter myself with your some time or - other passing a few days here with me. Why must I never expect - to see anything but Beefs in a gallery which would not yield - even to the Colonna?” - -Again the following to Sir Horace Mann: - - “Newmarket, Oct. 3, 1743. - - “I am writing to you in an inn on the road to London. What a - paradise should I have thought this when I was in the Italian - inns! in a wide barn with four ample windows, which had nothing - more like glass than shutters and iron bars! no tester to the - bed, and the saddles and portmanteaus heaped on me to keep off - the cold. What a paradise did I think the inn at Dover when I - came back! and what magnificence were two-penny prints, salt - cellars, and boxes to hold the knives; but the _summum bonum_ - was small-beer and the newspaper. - - “‘I bless’d my stars, and call’d it luxury!’ - - “Who was the Neapolitan ambassadress[18] that could not live at - Paris, because there was no macaroni? Now am I relapsed into - all the dissatisfied repinement of a true English grumbling - voluptuary. I could find in my heart to write a Craftsman - against the Government, because I am not quite so much at my - ease as on my own sofa. I could persuade myself that it is - my Lord Carteret’s fault that I am only sitting in a common - arm-chair, when I would be lolling in a _péché-mortel_. How - dismal, how solitary, how scrub does this town look; and - yet it has actually a street of houses better than Parma or - Modena. Nay, the houses of the people of fashion, who come - hither for the races, are palaces to what houses in London - itself were fifteen years ago. People do begin to live again - now, and I suppose in a term we shall revert to York Houses, - Clarendon Houses, etc. But from that grandeur all the nobility - had contracted themselves to live in coops of a dining-room, - a dark back-room, with one eye in a corner, and a closet. - Think what London would be, if the chief houses were in it, - as in the cities in other countries, and not dispersed like - great rarity-plums in a vast pudding of country. Well, it is a - tolerable place as it is! Were I a physician, I would prescribe - nothing but recipe, CCCLXV drachm. Londin. Would you know why - I like London so much? Why, if the world must consist of so - many fools as it does, I choose to take them in the gross, - and not made into separate pills, as they are prepared in the - country. Besides, there is no being alone but in a metropolis: - the worst place in the world to find solitude is the country: - questions grow there, and that unpleasant Christian commodity, - neighbours. Oh! they are all good Samaritans, and do so pour - balms and nostrums upon one, if one has but the toothache, or - a journey to take, that they break one’s head. A journey to - take--ay! they talk over the miles to you, and tell you, you - will be late in. My Lord Lovel says, _John_ always goes two - hours in the dark in the morning, to avoid being one hour in - the dark in the evening. I was pressed to set out to-day before - seven: I did before nine; and here am I arrived at a quarter - past five, for the rest of the night. - - “I am more convinced every day, that there is not only no - knowledge of the world out of a great city, but no decency, - no practicable society--I had almost said not a virtue. I - will only instance in modesty, which all _old Englishmen_ are - persuaded cannot exist within the atmosphere of Middlesex. Lady - Mary has a remarkable taste and knowledge of music, and can - sing--I don’t say, like your sister; but I am sure she would - be ready to die if obliged to sing before three people, or - before one with whom she is not intimate. The other day there - came to see her a Norfolk heiress; the young gentlewoman had - not been three hours in the house, and that for the first time - of her life, before she notified her talent for singing, and - invited herself upstairs, to Lady Mary’s harpsichord; where, - with a voice like thunder, and with as little harmony, she - sang to nine or ten people for an hour. ‘Was ever nymph like - Rossymonde?’--no, _d’honneur_. We told her she had a very - strong voice. ‘Why, Sir! my master says it is nothing to what - it was.’ My dear child, she brags abominably; if it had been a - thousandth degree louder, you must have heard it at Florence.” - -Arrived in London, he is again in his element. “You must be informed,” -he writes to Conway, “that every night constantly I go to Ranelagh, -which has totally beat Vauxhall. Nobody goes anywhere else--everybody -goes there. My Lord Chesterfield is so fond of it, that he says he -has ordered all his letters to be directed thither. If you had never -seen it, I would make you a most pompous description of it, and tell -you how the floor is all of beaten princes--that you can’t set your -foot without treading on a Prince of Wales or Duke of Cumberland. -The company is universal: there is from his Grace of Grafton down to -children out of the Foundling Hospital--from my Lady Townshend to the -kitten--from my Lord Sandys[19] to your humble cousin and sincere -friend.” - -From scenes like this Conway’s humble cousin was removed, though not -for long, by the last illness and death of Lord Orford. The Rebellion -of 1745, which quickly followed, produced only a momentary stir in -London. But the trials and executions of the rebel Lords, occurring -in the Capital itself, excited longer interest. We give Walpole’s -narrative of the execution of Lords Kilmarnock and Balmerino: - - “Just before they came out of the Tower, Lord Balmerino drank - a bumper to King James’s health. As the clock struck ten, - they came forth on foot, Lord Kilmarnock all in black, his - hair unpowdered in a bag, supported by Forster, the great - Presbyterian, and by Mr. Home, a young clergyman, his friend. - Lord Balmerino followed, alone, in a blue coat, turned up with - red, (his rebellious regimentals,) a flannel waistcoat, and his - shroud beneath; their hearses following. They were conducted - to a house near the scaffold: the room forwards had benches - for spectators, in the second Lord Kilmarnock was put, and in - the third backwards Lord Balmerino: all three chambers hung - with black. Here they parted! Balmerino embraced the other, - and said, ‘My lord, I wish I could suffer for both!’ He had - scarce left him, before he desired again to see him, and then - asked him, ‘My Lord Kilmarnock, do you know anything of the - resolution taken in our army, the day before the battle of - Culloden, to put the English prisoners to death?’ He replied, - ‘My lord, I was not present; but since I came hither, I have - had all the reason in the world to believe that there was such - order taken; and I hear the Duke has the pocket-book with the - order.’ Balmerino answered, ‘It was a lie raised to excuse - their barbarity to us.’--Take notice, that the Duke’s charging - this on Lord Kilmarnock (certainly on misinformation) decided - this unhappy man’s fate! The most now pretended is, that it - would have come to Lord Kilmarnock’s turn to have given the - word for the slaughter, as lieutenant-general, with the patent - for which he was immediately drawn into the rebellion, after - having been staggered by his wife, her mother, his own poverty, - and the defeat of Cope. He remained an hour and a half in - the house, and shed tears. At last he came to the scaffold, - certainly much terrified, but with a resolution that prevented - his behaving in the least meanly or unlike a gentleman.[20] - He took no notice of the crowd, only to desire that the baize - might be lifted up from the rails, that the mob might see the - spectacle. He stood and prayed some time with Forster, who wept - over him, exhorted and encouraged him. He delivered a long - speech to the Sheriff, and with a noble manliness stuck to - the recantation he had made at his trial; declaring he wished - that all who embarked in the same cause might meet the same - fate. He then took off his bag, coat and waistcoat, with great - composure, and after some trouble put on a napkin-cap, and - then several times tried the block; the executioner, who was - in white, with a white apron, out of tenderness concealing the - axe behind himself. At last the Earl knelt down, with a visible - unwillingness to depart, and after five minutes dropped his - handkerchief, the signal, and his head was cut off at once, - only hanging by a bit of skin, and was received in a scarlet - cloth by four of the undertaker’s men kneeling, who wrapped it - up and put it into the coffin with the body; orders having been - given not to expose the heads, as used to be the custom. - - “The scaffold was immediately new-strewed with saw-dust, the - block new-covered, the executioner new-dressed, and a new axe - brought. Then came old Balmerino, treading with the air of - a general. As soon as he mounted the scaffold, he read the - inscription on his coffin, as he did again afterwards: he then - surveyed the spectators, who were in amazing numbers, even upon - masts of ships in the river; and pulling out his spectacles, - read a reasonable speech, which he delivered to the Sheriff, - and said, the young Pretender was so sweet a Prince, that flesh - and blood could not resist following him; and lying down to try - the block, he said, ‘If I had a thousand lives, I would lay - them all down here in the same cause.’ He said, if he had not - taken the sacrament the day before, he would have knocked down - Williamson, the lieutenant of the Tower, for his ill-usage of - him. He took the axe and felt it, and asked the headsman how - many blows he had given Lord Kilmarnock; and gave him three - guineas. Two clergymen, who attended him, coming up, he said, - ‘No, gentlemen, I believe you have already done me all the - service you can.’ Then he went to the corner of the scaffold, - and called very loud for the warder, to give him his periwig, - which he took off, and put on a night-cap of Scotch plaid, and - then pulled off his coat and waistcoat and lay down; but being - told he was on the wrong side, vaulted round, and immediately - gave the sign by tossing up his arm, as if he were giving the - signal for battle. He received three blows, but the first - certainly took away all sensation. He was not a quarter of - an hour on the scaffold; Lord Kilmarnock above half a one. - Balmerino certainly died with the intrepidity of a hero, but - with the insensibility of one too. As he walked from his prison - to execution, seeing every window and top of house filled with - spectators, he cried out, ‘Look, look, how they are all piled - up like rotten oranges!’” - -Horace was now in the full tide of fashion, not to say dissipation. For -a good many years the opera, plays, balls, routs, and other diversions -public and private occupy as much space in his letters as the war -or the peace, the debates in Parliament, and the intrigues of party -leaders. Mingled with topics of both kinds, we have journeys to visit -great houses in the country, schemes for their improvement, designs for -the Gothic villa at Strawberry Hill, abundance of scandal, and playful -satire on the follies of the day. Here is an amusing account of the -sensation produced by the earthquake which alarmed London in 1750. It -will be seen that the more serious feelings which the event awakened -were as ridiculous in Walpole’s eyes as any part of the panic: - - “‘Portents and prodigies are grown so frequent, - That they have lost their name.’ - - “My text is not literally true; but as far as earthquakes go - towards lowering the price of wonderful commodities, to be sure - we are overstocked. We have had a second, much more violent - than the first; and you must not be surprised if by next post - you hear of a burning mountain sprung up in Smithfield. In the - night between Wednesday and Thursday last, (exactly a month - since the first shock,) the earth had a shivering fit between - one and two; but so slight that, if no more had followed, I - don’t believe it would have been noticed. I had been awake, and - had scarce dozed again--on a sudden I felt my bolster lift up - my head; I thought somebody was getting from under my bed, but - soon found it was a strong earthquake, that lasted near half - a minute, with a violent vibration and great roaring. I rang - my bell; my servant came in, frightened out of his senses: in - an instant we heard all the windows in the neighbourhood flung - up. I got up and found people running into the streets, but saw - no mischief done: there has been some; two old houses flung - down, several chimneys, and much china-ware. The bells rang in - several houses. Admiral Knowles, who has lived long in Jamaica, - and felt seven there, says this was more violent than any of - them: Francesco prefers it to the dreadful one at Leghorn. The - wise say, that if we have not rain soon, we shall certainly - have more. Several people are going out of town, for it has - nowhere reached above ten miles from London: they say, they are - not frightened, but that it is such fine weather, ‘Why, one - can’t help going into the country!’ The only visible effect - it has had, was on the ridotto, at which, being the following - night, there were but four hundred people. A parson, who came - into White’s the morning of earthquake the first, and heard - bets laid on whether it was an earthquake or the blowing up of - powder-mills, went away exceedingly scandalised, and said, ‘I - protest, they are such an impious set of people, that I believe - if the last trumpet was to sound, they would bet puppet-show - against Judgment.’ If we get any nearer still to the torrid - zone, I shall pique myself on sending you a present of cedrati - and orange-flower water: I am already planning a _terreno_ for - Strawberry Hill.… - - “You will not wonder so much at our earthquakes as at the - effects they have had. All the women in town have taken them - up upon the foot of _Judgments_; and the clergy, who have had - no windfalls of a long season, have driven horse and foot - into this opinion. There has been a shower of sermons and - exhortations: Secker,[21] the jesuitical Bishop of Oxford, - began the mode. He heard the women were all going out of town - to avoid the next shock; and so, for fear of losing his Easter - offerings, he set himself to advise them to await God’s good - pleasure in fear and trembling. But what is more astonishing, - Sherlock,[22] who has much better sense, and much less of the - Popish confessor, has been running a race with him for the - old ladies, and has written a pastoral letter, of which ten - thousand were sold in two days; and fifty thousand have been - subscribed for, since the two first editions. - - “I told you the women talked of going out of town: several - families are literally gone, and many more going to-day and - to-morrow; for what adds to the absurdity is, that the second - shock having happened exactly a month after the former, it - prevails that there will be a third on Thursday next, another - month, which is to swallow up London. I am almost ready to - burn my letter now I have begun it, lest you should think I am - laughing at you: but it is so true, that Arthur of White’s told - me last night, that he should put off the last ridotto, which - was to be on Thursday, because he hears nobody would come to - it. I have advised several who are going to keep their next - earthquake in the country, to take the bark for it, as it is so - periodic. Dick Leveson and Mr. Rigby, who had supped and stayed - late at Bedford House the other night, knocked at several - doors, and in a watchman’s voice cried, ‘Past four o’clock, and - a dreadful earthquake!’ But I have done with this ridiculous - panic: two pages were too much to talk of it.… - - “I had not time to finish my letter on Monday. I return to the - earthquake, which I had mistaken; it is to be to-day. This - frantic terror prevails so much, that within these three days - seven hundred and thirty coaches have been counted passing Hyde - Park Corner, with whole parties removing into the country. Here - is a good advertisement which I cut out of the papers to-day: - - “‘On Monday next will be published (price 6_d._) A true - and exact List of all the Nobility and Gentry who have - left, or shall leave, this place through fear of another - Earthquake.’ - - “Several women have made earthquake gowns; that is, warm - gowns to sit out of doors all to-night. These are of the more - courageous. One woman, still more heroic, is come to town on - purpose; she says, all her friends are in London, and she will - not survive them. But what will you think of Lady Catherine - Pelham, Lady Frances Arundel, and Lord and Lady Galway, who go - this evening to an inn ten miles out of town, where they are to - play at brag till five in the morning, and then come back--I - suppose, to look for the bones of their husbands and families - under the rubbish? The prophet of all this (next to the Bishop - of London) is a trooper of Lord Delawar’s, who was yesterday - sent to Bedlam. His _colonel_ sent to the man’s wife, and asked - her if her husband had ever been disordered before. She cried, - ‘Oh dear! my lord, he is not mad now; if your _lordship_ would - but get any _sensible_ man to examine him, you would find he is - quite in his right mind.’… - - “I did not doubt but you would be diverted with the detail of - absurdities that were committed after the earthquake: I could - have filled more paper with such relations, if I had not feared - tiring you. We have swarmed with sermons, essays, relations, - poems, and exhortations on that subject. One Stukely, a parson, - has accounted for it, and I think prettily, by electricity--but - that is the fashionable cause, and everything is resolved into - electrical appearances, as formerly everything was accounted - for by Descartes’s vortices, and Sir Isaac’s gravitation. - But they all take care, after accounting for the earthquake - systematically, to assure you that still it was nothing less - than a judgment. Dr. Barton, the Rector of St. Andrew’s, - was the only sensible, or at least honest divine, upon the - occasion. When some women would have had him pray to them - in his parish church against the intended shock, he excused - himself on having a great cold. ‘And besides,’ said he, ‘you - may go to St. James’s Church; the Bishop of Oxford is to preach - there all night about earthquakes.’ Turner, a great china-man, - at the corner of next street, had a jar cracked by the shock: - he originally asked ten guineas for the pair: he now asks - twenty, ‘because it is the only jar in Europe that has been - cracked by an earthquake.’” - -Not long after the earthquake, we find Walpole engaged in a frolic at -Vauxhall, though in the best company, Lady Caroline Petersham, his -hostess on the occasion, being the dashing wife[23] of Lord Petersham, -eldest son of the Earl of Harrington, who had been Secretary of State. -We insert Walpole’s history of the affair for the reason which he gives -for telling it. It is part of a letter to George Montagu. After a jest -about the habits of Buxton, where his friend’s sister was then drinking -the waters, the writer proceeds: - - “As jolly and as abominable a life as she may have been - leading, I defy all her enormities to equal a party of pleasure - that I had t’other night. I shall relate it to you to show you - the manners of the age, which are always as entertaining to a - person fifty miles off as to one born an hundred and fifty - years after the time. I had a card from Lady Caroline Petersham - to go with her to Vauxhall. I went accordingly to her house, - and found her and the little Ashe, or the Pollard Ashe, as they - call her; they had just finished their last layer of red, and - looked as handsome as crimson could make them.… We issued into - the Mall to assemble our company, which was all the town, if - we could get it; for just so many had been summoned, except - Harry Vane, whom we met by chance. We mustered the Duke of - Kingston, whom Lady Caroline says she has been trying for these - seven years; but alas! his beauty is at the fall of the leaf; - Lord March, Mr. Whitehed, a pretty Miss Beauclerc, and a very - foolish Miss Sparre. These two damsels were trusted by their - mothers for the first time of their lives to the matronly care - of Lady Caroline. As we sailed up the Mall with all our colours - flying, Lord Petersham,[24] with his hose and legs twisted to - every point of crossness, strode by us on the outside, and - repassed again on the return. At the end of the Mall she called - to him; he would not answer: she gave a familiar spring, and, - between laugh and confusion, ran up to him, ‘My lord, my lord! - why, you don’t see us!’ We advanced at a little distance, - not a little awkward in expectation how all this would end, - for my lord never stirred his hat, or took the least notice - of anybody: she said, ‘Do you go with us, or are _you going - anywhere else_?’--‘I don’t go with you, I am going _somewhere - else_;’ and away he stalked, as sulky as a ghost that nobody - will speak to first. We got into the best order we could, and - marched to our barge, with a boat of French horns attending, - and little Ashe singing. We paraded some time up the river, - and at last debarked at Vauxhall: there, if we had so pleased, - we might have had the vivacity of our party increased by a - quarrel; for a Mrs. Lloyd,[25] who is supposed to be married to - Lord Haddington, seeing the two girls following Lady Petersham - and Miss Ashe, said aloud, ‘Poor girls, I am sorry to see them - in such bad company!’ Miss Sparre, who desired nothing so much - as the fun of seeing a duel--a thing which, though she is - fifteen, she has never been so lucky as to see,--took due pains - to make Lord March resent this; but he, who is very lively and - agreeable, laughed her out of this charming frolic with a great - deal of humour. Here we picked up Lord Granby.… If all the - adventures don’t conclude as you expect in the beginning of a - paragraph, you must not wonder, for I am not making a history, - but relating one strictly as it happened, and I think with full - entertainment enough to content you. At last, we assembled - in our booth, Lady Caroline in the front, with the vizor of - her hat erect, and looking gloriously jolly and handsome. She - had fetched my brother Orford from the next box, where he was - enjoying himself with his _petite partie_, to help us to mince - chickens. We minced seven chickens into a china dish, which - Lady Caroline stewed over a lamp with three pats of butter - and a flagon of water, stirring, and rattling, and laughing, - and we every minute expecting to have the dish fly about our - ears. She had brought Betty, the fruit-girl, with hampers of - strawberries and cherries from Rogers’s, and made her wait - upon us, and then made her sup by us at a little table. The - conversation was no less lively than the whole transaction. - There was a Mr. O’Brien arrived from Ireland, who would get the - Duchess of Manchester from Mr. Hussey,[26] if she were still at - liberty. I took up the biggest hautboy in the dish, and said - to Lady Caroline, ‘Madam, Miss Ashe desires you would eat this - O’Brien strawberry;’ she replied immediately, ‘I won’t, you - hussey.’ You may imagine the laugh this reply occasioned. After - the tempest was a little calmed, the Pollard said, ‘Now, how - anybody would spoil this story that was to repeat it, and say, - I won’t, you jade!’ In short, the whole air of our party was - sufficient, as you will easily imagine, to take up the whole - attention of the garden; so much so, that from eleven o’clock - till half an hour after one we had the whole concourse round - our booth: at last, they came into the little gardens of each - booth on the sides of ours, till Harry Vane took up a bumper, - and drank their healths, and was proceeding to treat them with - still greater freedom. It was three o’clock before we got home.” - -Our next extract displays even better than the last our author’s skill -in telling a story. It also contains some pleasant references to his -life at Strawberry Hill: - - “I have just been in London for two or three days, to fetch an - adventure, and am returned to my hill and my castle. I can’t - say I lost my labour, as you shall hear. Last Sunday night, - being as wet a night as you shall see in a summer’s day, about - half an hour after twelve, I was just come home from White’s, - and undressing to step into bed, when I heard Harry, who you - know lies forwards, roar out, ‘Stop thief!’ and run down - stairs. I ran after him. Don’t be frightened; I have not lost - one enamel, nor bronze, nor have been shot through the head - again. A gentlewoman, who lives at Governor Pitt’s, next door - but one to me, and where Mr. Bentley used to live, was going to - bed too, and heard people breaking into Mr. Freeman’s house, - who, like some acquaintance of mine in Albemarle Street, goes - out of town, locks up his doors, and leaves the community to - watch his furniture. N.B. It was broken open but two years - ago, and I and all the chairmen vow they shall steal his house - away another time, before we will trouble our heads about it. - Well, madam called out ‘Watch!’ two men, who were sentinels, - ran away, and Harry’s voice after them. Down came I, and with - a posse of chairmen and watchmen found the third fellow in the - area of Mr. Freeman’s house. Mayhap you have seen all this - in the papers, little thinking who commanded the detachment. - Harry fetched a blunderbuss to invite the thief up. One of the - chairmen, who was drunk, cried, ‘Give me the blunderbuss, I’ll - shoot him!’ But as the general’s head was a little cooler, he - prevented military execution, and took the prisoner, without - bloodshed, intending to make his triumphal entry into the - metropolis of Twickenham with his captive tied to the wheels - of his post-chaise. I find my style rises so much with the - recollection of my victory, that I don’t know how to descend - to tell you that the enemy was a carpenter, and had a leather - apron on. The next step was to share my glory with my friends. - I despatched a courier to White’s for George Selwyn, who, you - know, loves nothing upon earth so well as a criminal, except - the execution of him. It happened very luckily that the drawer, - who received my message, has very lately been robbed himself, - and had the wound fresh in his memory. He stalked up into the - club-room, stopped short, and with a hollow trembling voice - said, ‘Mr. Selwyn! Mr. Walpole’s compliments to you, and he - has got a housebreaker for you!’ A squadron immediately came - to reinforce me, and having summoned Moreland with the keys of - the fortress, we marched into the house to search for more of - the gang. Col. Seabright with his sword drawn went first, and - then I, exactly the figure of Robinson Crusoe, with a candle - and lanthorn in my hand, a carbine upon my shoulder, my hair - wet and about my ears, and in a linen night-gown and slippers. - We found the kitchen shutters forced, but not finished; and - in the area a tremendous bag of tools, a hammer large enough - for the hand of a Jael, and six chisels! All which _opima - spolia_, as there was no temple of Jupiter Capitolinus in - the neighbourhood, I was reduced to offer on the altar of Sir - Thomas Clarges. - - “I am now, as I told you, returned to my plough with as much - humility and pride as any of my great predecessors. We lead - quite a rural life, have had a sheep-shearing, a hay-making, - a syllabub under the cow, and a fishing of three gold-fish - out of Poyang,[27] for a present to Madam Clive. They breed - with me excessively, and are grown to the size of small perch. - Everything grows, if tempests would let it; but I have had two - of my largest trees broke to-day with the wind, and another - last week. I am much obliged to you for the flower you offer - me, but by the description it is an Austrian rose, and I have - several now in bloom. Mr. Bentley is with me, finishing the - drawings for Gray’s Odes; there are some mandarin-cats fishing - for gold-fish, which will delight you.… - - “You will be pleased with a story of Lord Bury, that is come - from Scotland: he is quartered at Inverness; the magistrates - invited him to an entertainment with fire-works, which they - intended to give on the morrow for the Duke’s birth-day. He - thanked them, assured them he would represent their zeal to - his Royal Highness; but he did not doubt it would be more - agreeable to him, if they postponed it to the day following, - the anniversary of the battle of Culloden. They stared, said - they could not promise on their own authority, but would - go and consult their body. They returned, told him it was - unprecedented, and could not be complied with. Lord Bury - replied, he was sorry they had not given a negative at once, - for he had mentioned it to his soldiers, who would not bear a - disappointment, and was afraid it would provoke them to some - outrage upon the town. This did;--they celebrated Culloden.…” - -A few years later Strawberry Hill had attained its greatest celebrity. -In June, 1759, Walpole writes: - - “Strawberry Hill is grown a perfect Paphos; it is the land of - beauties. On Wednesday the Duchesses of Hamilton and Richmond, - and Lady Ailesbury dined there; the two latter stayed all - night. There never was so pretty a sight as to see them all - three sitting in the shell; a thousand years hence, when I - begin to grow old, if that can ever be, I shall talk of that - event, and tell young people how much handsomer the women of - my time were than they will be then: I shall say, ‘Women alter - now; I remember Lady Ailesbury looking handsomer than her - daughter, the pretty Duchess of Richmond, as they were sitting - in the shell on my terrace with the Duchess of Hamilton, one - of the famous Gunnings.’ Yesterday t’other more famous Gunning - [Lady Coventry] dined there. She has made a friendship with my - charming niece, to disguise her jealousy of the new Countess’s - beauty: there were they two, their lords, Lord Buckingham, and - Charlotte. You will think that I did not choose men for my - parties so well as women. I don’t include Lord Waldegrave in - this bad election.” - -The famous Gunnings referred to in the last passage figure often -in Walpole’s letters. These two ladies were the daughters of Irish -parents, and though of noble blood on the mother’s side, are said to -have been originally so poor that they had thought of being actresses; -and when they were first presented at Dublin Castle, they were supplied -with clothes for the occasion by Mrs. Woffington, the actress. On -their arrival in England, their beauty created such an impression, -that they were followed by crowds in the Park and at Vauxhall. We even -read that Maria, the elder, some years after her marriage, having -been mobbed in the Park, was attended by a guard of soldiers. Maria -married the Earl of Coventry, and died many years before her husband. -Her younger sister, Elizabeth, who was reckoned the less beautiful of -the two, married, first, the Duke of Hamilton, and, secondly, Colonel -John Campbell, afterwards Duke of Argyll, for whom she had refused -the Duke of Bridgewater. The penniless Irish girl, Elizabeth Gunning, -was the mother of two Dukes of Hamilton and two Dukes of Argyll. -Walpole’s niece, of whom he suggests Lady Coventry was jealous, was a -natural daughter of his brother, Sir Edward Walpole, and was then the -bride of the Earl of Waldegrave, after whose death she became Duchess -of Gloucester, by a clandestine marriage with George III.’s younger -brother. By her first husband she had three daughters, the Ladies -Waldegrave, whose portraits, by Reynolds, are included in this volume. - -Before we leave that portion of Horace Walpole’s correspondence which -belongs to the reign of George II., we will give one letter of a -character different from those we have previously selected. It is -addressed to Sir David Dalrymple, afterwards Lord Hailes, and deals -entirely with literary subjects. The “Irish poems” referred to in -it are, of course, the first fragments of “Ossian,” then recently -published by Macpherson: - - “Strawberry Hill, April 4, 1760. - - “As I have very little at present to trouble you with myself, I - should have deferred writing till a better opportunity, if it - were not to satisfy the curiosity of a friend; a friend whom - you, Sir, will be glad to have made curious, as you originally - pointed him out as a likely person to be charmed with the old - Irish poetry you sent me. It is Mr. Gray, who is an enthusiast - about those poems, and begs me to put the following queries to - you; which I will do in his own words, and I may say truly, - _Poeta loquitur_. - - “‘I am so charmed with the two specimens of Erse poetry, that I - cannot help giving you the trouble to inquire a little farther - about them, and should wish to see a few lines of the original, - that I may form some slight idea of the language, the measures, - and the rhythm. - - “‘Is there anything known of the author or authors, and of what - antiquity are they supposed to be? - - “‘Is there any more to be had of equal beauty, or at all - approaching to it? - - “‘I have been often told, that the poem called Hardykanute[28] - (which I always admired and still admire) was the work of - somebody that lived a few years ago. This I do not at all - believe, though it has evidently been retouched in places by - some modern hand; but, however, I am authorised by this report - to ask, whether the two poems in question are certainly antique - and genuine. I make this inquiry in quality of an antiquary, - and am not otherwise concerned about it; for if I were sure - that anyone now living in Scotland had written them, to divert - himself and laugh at the credulity of the world, I would - undertake a journey into the Highlands only for the pleasure of - seeing him.’ - - “You see, Sir, how easily you may make our greatest southern - bard travel northward to visit a brother. The young translator - has nothing to do but to own a forgery, and Mr. Gray is ready - to pack up his lyre, saddle Pegasus, and set out directly. But - seriously, he, Mr. Mason, my Lord Lyttelton, and one or two - more, whose taste the world allows, are in love with your Erse - elegies: I cannot say in general they are so much admired--but - Mr. Gray alone is worth satisfying. - - “The ‘Siege of Aquileia,’ of which you ask, pleased less than - Mr. Home’s other plays.[29] In my own opinion, ‘Douglas’ far - exceeds both the others. Mr. Home seems to have a beautiful - talent for painting genuine nature and the manners of his - country. There was so little of nature in the manners of both - Greeks and Romans, that I do not wonder at his success being - less brilliant when he tried those subjects; and, to say the - truth, one is a little weary of them. At present, nothing is - talked of, nothing admired, but what I cannot help calling a - very insipid and tedious performance: it is a kind of novel, - called ‘The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy;’ the great - humour of which consists in the whole narration always going - backwards. I can conceive a man saying that it would be droll - to write a book in that manner, but have no notion of his - persevering in executing it. It makes one smile two or three - times at the beginning, but in recompense makes one yawn for - two hours. The characters are tolerably kept up, but the - humour is for ever attempted and missed. The best thing in it - is a Sermon, oddly coupled with a good deal of indecency, and - both the composition of a clergyman. The man’s head, indeed, - was a little turned before, now topsy-turvy with his success - and fame. Dodsley has given him six hundred and fifty pounds - for the second edition and two more volumes (which I suppose - will reach backwards to his great-great-grandfather); Lord - Fauconberg, a donative[30] of one hundred and sixty pounds a - year; and Bishop Warburton gave him a purse of gold and this - compliment (which happened to be a contradiction), ‘that it - was quite an original composition, and in the true Cervantic - vein:’ the only copy that ever was an original, except in - painting, where they all pretend to be so. Warburton, however, - not content with this, recommended the book to the bench of - bishops, and told them Mr. Sterne, the author, was the English - Rabelais. They had never heard of such a writer. Adieu!” - -[Illustration: _Sir Joshua Reynolds. Pinx._ _A. Dawson. Ph. Sc._ _E. -Fisher. Sc._ - -_Lawrence Sterne._] - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - A new reign.--Funeral of the late King.--Houghton - revisited.--Election at Lynn.--Marriage of George the - Third.--His Coronation. - - -The accession of George III. was the beginning of a new era in English -society. The character of George II. could inspire no respect. His -successor, with all his faults, did as much perhaps towards reforming -the manners of the higher classes as a more enlightened prince could -have effected. His regular life and the strictness of his Court -applied a pressure answering to that which grew daily stronger from -below. The chief want of the aristocracy at this time was not so much -culture as something more vitally important. Culture they did, indeed, -sorely lack, but many influences among themselves were tending to -promote this. What they mainly needed to have enforced upon them from -without was some regard to the first principles of social order, some -recognition of moral and religious obligations. Those who despise the -formalism of George III.’s reign, may reflect that to impose external -decorum on the society represented in Hogarth’s pictures was of itself -no trifling improvement. Even this was some time in coming. It was -retarded by the mistaken system of government which for a long while -rendered the Crown unpopular. Still the signs of a change for the -better gradually became apparent; and when the close of the American -War had removed the last subject of national discontent, the great -majority of the upper, as well as of the middle ranks, rallied round -the throne as the mainstay of public morality, supporting the King and -the sedate minister of his choice against a rival whose irregularities -recalled the disorders of a former time. - -We give the letter in which Walpole describes the funeral of George II. -It should be stated that the writer did not long retain the favourable -opinion he here expresses of the new Sovereign: - - “Arlington Street, Nov. 13, 1760. - - “Even the honeymoon of a new reign don’t produce events every - day. There is nothing but the common saying of addresses and - kissing hands. The chief difficulty is settled; Lord Gower - yields the Mastership of the Horse to Lord Huntingdon, and - removes to the Great Wardrobe, from whence Sir Thomas Robinson - was to have gone into Ellis’s place, but he is saved. The City, - however, have a mind to be out of humour; a paper has been - fixed on the Royal Exchange, with these words, ‘No petticoat - Government, no Scotch Minister, no Lord George Sackville;’ - two hints totally unfounded, and the other scarce true. No - petticoat ever governed less, it is left at Leicester-house; - Lord George’s breeches are as little concerned; and, except - Lady Susan Stuart and Sir Harry Erskine, nothing has yet - been done for any Scots. For the King himself, he seems all - good-nature, and wishing to satisfy everybody; all his speeches - are obliging. I saw him again yesterday, and was surprised to - find the levee-room had lost so entirely the air of the lion’s - den. This Sovereign don’t stand in one spot, with his eyes - fixed royally on the ground, and dropping bits of German news; - he walks about, and speaks to everybody. I saw him afterwards - on the throne, where he is graceful and genteel, sits with - dignity, and reads his answers to addresses well; it was the - Cambridge address, carried by the Duke of Newcastle in his - Doctor’s gown, and looking like the _Médecin malgré lui_. He - had been vehemently solicitous for attendance, for fear my Lord - Westmoreland, who vouchsafes himself to bring the address from - Oxford, should outnumber him. Lord Lichfield and several other - Jacobites have kissed hands; George Selwyn says, ‘They go to St - James’s, because now there are so many _Stuarts_ there.’ - - “Do you know, I had the curiosity to go to the burying t’other - night; I had never seen a royal funeral; nay, I walked as a - rag of quality, which I found would be, and so it was, the - easiest way of seeing it. It is absolutely a noble sight. The - Prince’s chamber, hung with purple, and a quantity of silver - lamps, the coffin under a canopy of purple velvet, and six vast - chandeliers of silver on high stands, had a very good effect. - The Ambassador from Tripoli and his son were carried to see - that chamber. The procession, through a line of foot-guards, - every seventh man bearing a torch, the horse-guards lining the - outside, their officers with drawn sabres and crape sashes - on horseback, the drums muffled, the fifes, bells tolling, - and minute-guns,--all this was very solemn. But the charm - was the entrance of the Abbey, where we were received by the - Dean and Chapter in rich robes, the choir and almsmen bearing - torches; the whole Abbey so illuminated, that one saw it to - greater advantage than by day; the tombs, long aisles, and - fretted roof, all appearing distinctly, and with the happiest - _chiaroscuro_. There wanted nothing but incense, and little - chapels here and there, with priests saying mass for the - repose of the defunct; yet one could not complain of its not - being catholic enough. I had been in dread of being coupled - with some boy of ten years old; but the heralds were not very - accurate, and I walked with George Grenville, taller and older, - to keep me in countenance. When we came to the chapel of Henry - the Seventh, all solemnity and decorum ceased; no order was - observed, people sat or stood where they could or would; the - yeomen of the guard were crying out for help, oppressed by - the immense weight of the coffin; the Bishop read sadly, and - blundered in the prayers; the fine chapter, _Man that is born - of a woman_, was chanted, not read; and the anthem, besides - being immeasurably tedious, would have served as well for a - nuptial. The real serious part was the figure of the Duke of - Cumberland, heightened by a thousand melancholy circumstances. - He had a dark brown adonis, and a cloak of black cloth, with - a train of five yards. Attending the funeral of a father - could not be pleasant: his leg extremely bad, yet forced to - stand upon it near two hours; his face bloated and distorted - with his late paralytic stroke, which has affected, too, one - of his eyes, and placed over the mouth of the vault, into - which, in all probability, he must himself so soon descend; - think how unpleasant a situation! He bore it all with a - firm and unaffected countenance. This grave scene was fully - contrasted by the burlesque Duke of Newcastle. He fell into a - fit of crying the moment he came into the chapel, and flung - himself back in a stall, the Archbishop hovering over him with - a smelling-bottle; but in two minutes his curiosity got the - better of his hypocrisy, and he ran about the chapel with his - glass to spy who was or was not there, spying with one hand, - and mopping his eyes with the other. Then returned the fear of - catching cold; and the Duke of Cumberland, who was sinking with - heat, felt himself weighed down, and turning round, found it - was the Duke of Newcastle standing upon his train, to avoid the - chill of the marble. It was very theatric to look down into the - vault where the coffin lay, attended by mourners with lights. - Clavering, the groom of the bedchamber, refused to sit up with - the body, and was dismissed by the King’s order.” - -The demise of the Crown, of course, dissolved Parliament. Horace -Walpole went down to Houghton to be re-elected for Lynn: - - “Houghton, March 25, 1761. - - “Here I am at Houghton! and alone! in this spot, where (except - two hours last month) I have not been in sixteen years! Think, - what a crowd of reflections! No; Gray, and forty churchyards, - could not furnish so many; nay, I know one must feel them with - greater indifference than I possess, to have patience to put - them into verse. Here I am, probably for the last time of my - life, though not for the last time: every clock that strikes - tells me I am an hour nearer to yonder church--that church, - into which I have not yet had courage to enter, where lies that - mother on whom I doated, and who doated on me! There are the - two rival mistresses of Houghton, neither of whom ever wished - to enjoy it! There too lies he who founded its greatness, to - contribute to whose fall Europe was embroiled; there he sleeps - in quiet and dignity, while his friend and his foe, rather his - false ally and real enemy, Newcastle and Bath, are exhausting - the dregs of their pitiful lives in squabbles and pamphlets.[31] - - “The surprise the pictures gave me is again renewed; accustomed - for many years to see nothing but wretched daubs and varnished - copies at auctions, I look at these as enchantment. My own - description of them seems poor; but shall I tell you truly, - the majesty of Italian ideas almost sinks before the warm - nature of Flemish colouring. Alas! don’t I grow old? My young - imagination was fired with Guido’s ideas: must they be plump - as Abishag to warm me now? Does great youth feel with poetic - limbs, as well as see with poetic eyes? In one respect I am - very young, I cannot satiate myself with looking: an incident - contributed to make me feel this more strongly. A party - arrived, just as I did, to see the house, a man and three women - in riding-dresses, and they rode post through the apartments. - I could not hurry before them fast enough; they were not so - long in seeing for the first time, as I could have been in one - room, to examine what I knew by heart. I remember formerly - being often diverted with this kind of _seers_; they come, ask - what such a room is called, in which Sir Robert lay, write it - down, admire a lobster or a cabbage in a market-piece, dispute - whether the last room was green or purple, and then hurry to - the inn for fear the fish should be overdressed. How different - my sensations! not a picture here but recalls a history; not - one, but I remember in Downing-street or Chelsea, where queens - and crowds admired them, though seeing them as little as these - travellers! - - “When I had drunk tea, I strolled into the garden; they told - me it was now called the _pleasure-ground_. What a dissonant - idea of pleasure! those groves, those _allées_, where I have - passed so many charming moments, are now stripped up or - overgrown--many fond paths I could not unravel, though with - a very exact clew in my memory: I met two gamekeepers, and - a thousand hares! In the days when all my soul was tuned to - pleasure and vivacity (and you will think, perhaps, it is - far from being out of tune yet), I hated Houghton and its - solitude; yet I loved this garden, as now, with many regrets, I - love Houghton; Houghton, I know not what to call it, a monument - of grandeur or ruin! How I have wished this evening for Lord - Bute! how I could preach to him! For myself, I do not want to - be preached to; I have long considered, how every Balbec must - wait for the chance of a Mr. Wood. The servants wanted to lay - me in the great apartment--what, to make me pass my night as I - have done my evening! It were like proposing to Margaret Roper - to be a duchess in the court that cut off her father’s head, - and imagining it would please her. I have chosen to sit in my - father’s little dressing-room, and am now by his scrutoire, - where, in the height of his fortune, he used to receive the - accounts of his farmers, and deceive himself, or us, with the - thoughts of his economy. How wise a man at once, and how weak! - For what has he built Houghton? for his grandson to annihilate, - or for his son to mourn over. If Lord Burleigh could rise and - view his representative driving the Hatfield stage, he would - feel as I feel now. Poor little Strawberry! at least, it will - not be stripped to pieces by a descendant! You will find all - these fine meditations dictated by pride, not by philosophy. - Pray consider through how many mediums philosophy must pass, - before it is purified-- - - “‘---- how often must it weep, how often burn!’ - - “My mind was extremely prepared for all this gloom by parting - with Mr. Conway yesterday morning; moral reflections or - commonplaces are the livery one likes to wear, when one has - just had a real misfortune. He is going to Germany: I was - glad to dress myself up in transitory Houghton, in lieu of - very sensible concern. To-morrow I shall be distracted with - thoughts, at least images of very different complexion. I go - to Lynn, and am to be elected on Friday. I shall return hither - on Saturday, again alone, to expect Burleighides on Sunday, - whom I left at Newmarket. I must once in my life see him on his - grandfather’s throne. - - “_Epping_, _Monday night, thirty-first_.--No, I have not seen - him; he loitered on the road, and I was kept at Lynn till - yesterday morning. It is plain I never knew for how many - trades I was formed, when at this time of day I can begin - electioneering, and succeed in my new vocation. Think of me, - the subject of a mob, who was scarce ever before in a mob, - addressing them in the town-hall, riding at the head of two - thousand people through such a town as Lynn, dining with above - two hundred of them, amid bumpers, huzzas, songs, and tobacco, - and finishing with country dancing at a ball and sixpenny - whist! I have borne it all cheerfully; nay, have sat hours in - _conversation_, the thing upon earth that I hate; have been to - hear misses play on the harpsichord, and to see an alderman’s - copies of Rubens and Carlo Marat. Yet to do the folks justice, - they are sensible, and reasonable, and civilised; their very - language is polished since I lived among them. I attribute - this to their more frequent intercourse with the world and the - capital, by the help of good roads and postchaises, which, if - they have abridged the King’s dominions, have at least tamed - his subjects. Well, how comfortable it will be to-morrow, to - see my parroquet, to play at loo, and not be obliged to talk - seriously! The Heraclitus of the beginning of this letter will - be overjoyed on finishing it to sign himself your old friend, - - “DEMOCRITUS. - - “P.S. I forgot to tell you that my ancient aunt Hammond came - over to Lynn to see me; not from any affection, but curiosity. - The first thing she said to me, though we have not met these - sixteen years, was, ‘Child, you have done a thing to-day, that - your father never did in all his life; you sat as they carried - you,--he always stood the whole time.’ ‘Madam,’ said I, ‘when - I am placed in a chair, I conclude I am to sit in it; besides, - as I cannot imitate my father in great things, I am not at - all ambitious of mimicking him in little ones.’ I am sure she - proposes to tell her remarks to my uncle Horace’s ghost, the - instant they meet.” - -The King’s marriage followed a few months later: - - “Arlington Street, Sept. 10, 1761. - - “When we least expected the Queen, she came, after being ten - days at sea, but without sickness for above half-an-hour. She - was gay the whole voyage, sung to her harpsichord, and left - the door of her cabin open. They made the coast of Suffolk - last Saturday, and on Monday morning she landed at Harwich; so - prosperously has Lord Anson executed his commission. She lay - that night at your old friend Lord Abercorn’s, at Witham in - Essex; and, if she judged by her host, must have thought she - was coming to reign in the realm of taciturnity. She arrived - at St. James’s a quarter after three on Tuesday the 8th. When - she first saw the Palace she turned pale: the Duchess of - Hamilton smiled. ‘My dear Duchess,’ said the Princess, ‘_you_ - may laugh; you have been married twice; but it is no joke to - me.’ Is this a bad proof of her sense? On the journey they - wanted her to curl her toupet. ‘No, indeed,’ said she, ‘I - think it looks as well as those of the ladies who have been - sent for me: if the King would have me wear a periwig, I will; - otherwise I shall let myself alone.’ The Duke of York gave - her his hand at the garden-gate: her lips trembled, but she - jumped out with spirit. In the garden the King met her; she - would have fallen at his feet; he prevented and embraced her, - and led her into the apartments, where she was received by the - Princess of Wales and Lady Augusta: these three princesses only - dined with the King. At ten the procession went to chapel, - preceded by unmarried daughters of peers, and peeresses in - plenty. The new Princess was led by the Duke of York and - Prince William; the Archbishop married them; the King talked - to her the whole time with great good humour, and the Duke - of Cumberland gave her away. She is not tall, nor a beauty; - pale, and very thin; but looks sensible, and is genteel. Her - hair is darkish and fine; her forehead low, her nose very - well, except the nostrils spreading too wide; her mouth has - the same fault, but her teeth are good.[32] She talks a good - deal, and French tolerably; possesses herself, is frank, but - with great respect to the King. After the ceremony, the whole - company came into the drawing-room for about ten minutes, but - nobody was presented that night. The Queen was in white and - silver; an endless mantle of violet-coloured velvet, lined - with ermine, and attempted to be fastened on her shoulder by - a bunch of large pearls, dragged itself and almost the rest - of her clothes halfway down her waist. On her head was a - beautiful little tiara of diamonds; a diamond necklace, and - a stomacher of diamonds, worth three score thousand pounds, - which she is to wear at the Coronation too. Her train was - borne by the ten bridesmaids, Lady Sarah Lenox, Lady Caroline - Russell, Lady Caroline Montagu, Lady Harriot Bentinck, Lady - Anne Hamilton, Lady Essex Kerr (daughters of Dukes of Richmond, - Bedford, Manchester, Portland, Hamilton, and Roxburgh); and - four daughters of the Earls of Albemarle, Brook, Harcourt, and - Ilchester,--Lady Elizabeth Keppel, Louisa Greville, Elizabeth - Harcourt, and Susan Fox Strangways: their heads crowned with - diamonds, and in robes of white and silver. Lady Caroline - Russell is extremely handsome; Lady Elizabeth Keppel very - pretty; but with neither features nor air, nothing ever looked - so charming as Lady Sarah Lenox; she has all the glow of beauty - peculiar to her family. As supper was not ready, the Queen - sat down, sung, and played on the harpsichord to the Royal - Family, who all supped with her in private. They talked of the - different German dialects; the King asked if the Hanoverian was - not pure--‘Oh, no, sir,’ said the Queen; ‘it is the worst of - all.’--She will not be unpopular. - - “The Duke of Cumberland told the King that himself and Lady - Augusta were sleepy. The Queen was very averse to leave the - company, and at last articled that nobody should accompany her - but the Princess of Wales and her own two German women, and - that nobody should be admitted afterwards but the King--they - did not retire till between two and three. - - “The next morning the King had a Levee. After the Levee there - was a Drawing-Room; the Queen stood under the throne: the women - were presented to her by the Duchess of Hamilton, and then the - men by the Duke of Manchester; but as she knew nobody, she - was not to speak. At night there was a ball, drawing-rooms - yesterday and to-day, and then a cessation of ceremony till - the Coronation, except next Monday, when she is to receive the - address of the Lord Mayor and Aldermen, sitting on the throne - attended by the bridesmaids. A ridiculous circumstance happened - yesterday; Lord Westmoreland, not very young nor clear-sighted, - mistook Lady Sarah Lenox for the Queen, kneeled to her, and - would have kissed her hand if she had not prevented him. People - think that a Chancellor of Oxford was naturally attracted by - the blood of Stuart. It is as comical to see Kitty Dashwood, - the famous old beauty of the Oxfordshire Jacobites, living in - the palace as Duenna to the Queen. She and Mrs. Broughton, Lord - Lyttelton’s ancient Delia, are revived again in a young court - that never heard of them. There, I think you could not have - had a more circumstantial account of a royal wedding from the - Heralds’ Office. Adieu! - - “Yours to serve you, - - “HORACE SANDFORD, - “Mecklenburgh King-at-Arms.” - -The Coronation of the King and Queen took place on the 22nd of -September, 1761, a fortnight after their marriage. Walpole writes to -Mann: - - “Strawberry Hill, Sept. 28, 1761. - - “What is the finest sight in the world? A Coronation. What do - people talk most about? A Coronation. Indeed, one had need - be a handsome young peeress not to be fatigued to death with - it. After being exhausted with hearing of nothing else for - six weeks, and having every cranny of my ideas stuffed with - velvet and ermine, and tresses, and jewels, I thought I was - very cunning in going to lie in Palace-yard, that I might not - sit up all night in order to seize a place. The consequence of - this wise scheme was, that I did not get a wink of sleep all - night; hammering of scaffolds, shouting of people, relieving - guards, and jangling of bells, was the concert I heard from - twelve to six, when I rose; and it was noon before the - procession was ready to set forth, and night before it returned - from the Abbey. I then saw the Hall, the dinner, and the - champion, a gloriously illuminated chamber, a wretched banquet, - and a foolish puppet-show. A Trial of a peer, though by no - means so sumptuous, is a preferable sight, for the latter is - interesting. At a Coronation one sees the peerage as exalted as - they like to be, and at a Trial as much humbled as a plebeian - wishes them. I tell you nothing of who looked well; you know - them no more than if I told you of the next Coronation. Yes, - two ancient dames whom you remember, were still ornaments of - the show,--the Duchess of Queensberry and Lady Westmoreland. - Some of the peeresses were so fond of their robes, that they - graciously exhibited themselves for a whole day before to all - the company their servants could invite to see them. A maid - from Richmond begged leave to stay in town because the Duchess - of Montrose was only to be seen from two to four. The Heralds - were so ignorant of their business, that, though pensioned for - nothing but to register lords and ladies, and what belongs to - them, they advertised in the newspaper for the Christian names - and places of abode of the peeresses. The King complained of - such omissions and of the want of precedent; Lord Effingham, - the Earl Marshal, told him, it was true there had been great - neglect in that office, but he had now taken such care of - registering directions, that _next coronation_ would be - conducted with the greatest order imaginable. The King was so - diverted with this _flattering_ speech that he made the earl - repeat it several times. - - “On this occasion one saw to how high-water-mark extravagance - is risen in England. At the Coronation of George II. my mother - gave forty guineas for a dining-room, scaffold, and bedchamber. - An exactly parallel apartment, only with rather a worse view, - was this time set at three hundred and fifty guineas--a - tolerable rise in thirty-three years! The platform from St. - Margaret’s Round-house to the church-door, which formerly let - for forty pounds, went this time for two thousand four hundred - pounds. Still more was given for the inside of the Abbey. The - prebends would like a Coronation every year. The King paid nine - thousand pounds for the hire of jewels; indeed, last time, it - cost my father fourteen hundred to bejewel my Lady Orford. A - single shop now sold six hundred pounds’ sterling worth of - nails--but nails are risen--so is everything, and everything - adulterated. If we conquer Spain, as we have done France, I - expect to be poisoned.” - -An observation as awkward as that of Lord Effingham had been made by -the beautiful Lady Coventry to George II. “She was tired of sights,” -she said; “there was only one left that she wanted to see, and that -was a coronation.” The old man, says Walpole, told the story himself -at supper to his family with great good humour. As it happened, he -outlived Lady Coventry by a few days. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - General Taste for Pleasure.--Entertainments at Twickenham - and Esher.--Miss Chudleigh’s Ball.--Masquerade at Richmond - House.--The Gallery at Strawberry Hill.--Balls.--The Duchess - of Queensberry.--Petition of the Periwig-makers.--Ladies’ - Head-gear.--Almack’s.--The Castle of Otranto.--Plans for a - Bower.--A Late Dinner.--Walpole’s Idle Life.--Social usages. - - -For some years after the arrival of the Queen, the enlivening influence -of a new reign is clearly traceable in Walpole’s letters. The Court, -indeed, did not willingly contribute much to the national gaiety. Its -plainness and economy soon incurred reproach;[33] while there were -intervals in which the first uncertain signs of mental derangement -caused the young King to be withdrawn from public observation. Still -there were christenings and birthdays, with now and then a wedding, -to be celebrated in the royal family; and the State festivities, -unavoidable on these occasions, were eagerly emulated by the -nobility. The Peace of Paris, too, was not only welcomed with popular -rejoicings, but produced a general stir in society by the renewed -intercourse which it brought about between France and England. “The -two nations,” writes Horace, “are crossing over and figuring-in.” A -trifle restrained by the example of the Court and the presence of -foreign visitors, the appetite for pleasure became universal among the -English higher classes. Lord Bute and the Princess of Wales, Wilkes and -the _North Briton_, the debates on privilege and on general warrants, -divided the attention of Walpole’s world with the last entertainment at -the Duke of Richmond’s or Northumberland House, with Miss Chudleigh’s -last ball, with the riots at Drury Lane Theatre, with the _fêtes_ -in honour of the marriage of the Princess Augusta and the Prince of -Brunswick, or, somewhat later, of the ill-starred union between the -Princess Caroline and the King of Denmark. We hear no more of frolics -at Vauxhall, but we find galas, masquerades, ridottos, festinos, -displays of fireworks following each other in rapid succession through -our author’s pages; sometimes several such scenes are described in the -same letter. There is, of course, much sameness in these descriptions, -but some passages serve to illustrate the tastes of the age. We will -make three or four brief extracts. Our first choice is an account -of two entertainments given to French guests of rank, one by Horace -himself at Strawberry Hill, the other by Miss Pelham at the country -seat celebrated by Pope and Thomson. The whole story is contained in a -letter to George Montagu, written in May, 1763: - - “‘On vient de nous donner une très jolie fête au château de - Straberri: tout étoit tapissé de narcisses, de tulipes, et - de lilacs; des cors de chasse, des clarionettes; des petits - vers galants faits par des fées, et qui se trouvoient sous la - presse; des fruits à la glace, du thé, du caffé, des biscuits, - et force hot-rolls.’[34]--This is not the beginning of a letter - to you, but of one that I might suppose sets out to-night for - Paris, or rather, which I do not suppose will set out thither; - for though the narrative is circumstantially true, I don’t - believe the actors were pleased enough with the scene, to give - so favourable an account of it. - - “The French do not come hither to see. _A l’Anglaise_ happened - to be the word in fashion; and half a dozen of the most - fashionable people have been the dupes of it. I take for - granted that their next mode will be _à l’Iroquaise_, that they - may be under no obligation of realising their pretensions. - Madame de Boufflers I think will die a martyr to a taste, - which she fancied she had, and finds she has not. Never having - stirred ten miles from Paris, and having only rolled in an easy - coach from one hotel to another on a gliding pavement, she is - already worn out with being hurried from morning till night - from one sight to another. She rises every morning so fatigued - with the toils of the preceding day, that she has not strength, - if she had inclination, to observe the least, or the finest - thing she sees! She came hither to-day to a great breakfast I - made for her, with her eyes a foot deep in her head, her hands - dangling, and scarce able to support her knitting-bag. She had - been yesterday to see a ship launched, and went from Greenwich - by water to Ranelagh. Madame Dusson, who is Dutch-built, and - whose muscles are pleasure-proof, came with her; there were - besides, Lady Mary Coke, Lord and Lady Holdernesse, the Duke - and Duchess of Grafton, Lord Hertford, Lord Villiers, Offley, - Messieurs de Fleury, D’Eon, et Duclos. The latter is author of - the Life of Louis Onze; dresses like a dissenting minister, - which I suppose is the livery of a _bel esprit_, and is much - more impetuous than agreeable. We breakfasted in the great - parlour, and I had filled the hall and large cloister by turns - with French horns and clarionettes. As the French ladies had - never seen a printing-house, I carried them into mine; they - found something ready set, and desiring to see what it was, it - proved as follows: - - “The Press speaks-- - - “FOR MADAME DE BOUFFLERS. - - “‘The graceful fair, who loves to know, - Nor dreads the north’s inclement snow; - Who bids her polish’d accent wear - The British diction’s harsher air; - Shall read her praise in every clime - Where types can speak or poets rhyme. - - “FOR MADAME DUSSON. - - “Feign not an ignorance of what I speak; - You could not miss my meaning were it Greek: - ’Tis the same language Belgium utter’d first, - The same which from admiring Gallia burst. - True sentiment a like expression pours; - Each country says the same to eyes like yours. - - “You will comprehend that the first speaks English, and that - the second does not; that the second is handsome, and the first - not; and that the second was born in Holland. This little - gentilesse pleased, and atoned for the popery[35] of my house, - which was not serious enough for Madame de Boufflers, who is - Montmorency, _et du sang du premier Chrétien_; and too serious - for Madame Dusson, who is a Dutch Calvinist.… The Gallery is - not advanced enough to give them any idea at all, as they are - not apt to go out of their way for one; but the Cabinet, and - the glory of yellow glass at top, which had a charming sun for - a foil, did surmount their indifference, especially as they - were animated by the Duchess of Grafton, who had never happened - to be here before, and who perfectly entered into the air of - enchantment and fairyism, which is the tone of the place, and - was peculiarly so to-day. - - “Thursday. - - “I am ashamed of myself to have nothing but a journal of - pleasures to send you; I never passed a more agreeable day - than yesterday. Miss Pelham gave the French an entertainment - at Esher; but they have been so feasted and amused, that none - of them were well enough, or reposed enough, to come, but - Nivernois and Madame Dusson. The rest of the company were, - the Graftons, Lady Rockingham, Lord and Lady Pembroke.… The - day was delightful, the scene transporting; the trees, lawns, - concaves, all in the perfection in which the ghost of Kent[36] - would joy to see them. At twelve we made the tour of the farm - in eight chaises and calashes, horsemen, and footmen, setting - out like a picture of Wouverman’s. My lot fell in the lap of - Mrs. Anne Pitt,[37] which I could have excused, as she was - not at all in the style of the day, romantic, but political. - We had a magnificent dinner, cloaked in the modesty of - earthenware; French horns and hautboys on the lawn. We walked - to the Belvidere on the summit of the hill, where a theatrical - storm only served to heighten the beauty of the landscape, a - rainbow on a dark cloud falling precisely behind the tower of - a neighbouring church, between another tower and the building - at Claremont. Monsieur de Nivernois, who had been absorbed all - day, and lagging behind, translating my verses, was delivered - of his version, and of some more lines which he wrote on Miss - Pelham in the Belvidere, while we drank tea and coffee. From - thence we passed into the wood, and the ladies formed a circle - on chairs before the mouth of the cave, which was overhung - to a vast height with woodbines, lilacs, and laburnums, and - dignified by the tall shapely cypresses. On the descent of the - hill were placed the French horns; the abigails, servants, - and neighbours wandering below by the river; in short, it was - Parnassus, as Watteau would have painted it. Here we had a - rural syllabub, and part of the company returned to town; but - were replaced by Giardini and Onofrio, who with Nivernois on - the violin, and Lord Pembroke on the base, accompanied Miss - Pelham, Lady Rockingham, and the Duchess of Grafton, who sang. - This little concert lasted till past ten; then there were - minuets, and as we had several couples left, it concluded with - a country dance. I blush again, for I danced, but was kept - in countenance by Nivernois, who has one wrinkle more than I - have. A quarter after twelve they sat down to supper, and I - came home by a charming moonlight. I am going to dine in town, - and to a great ball with fireworks at Miss Chudleigh’s, but - I return hither on Sunday, to bid adieu to this abominable - Arcadian life; for really when one is not young, one ought to - do nothing but _s’ennuyer_; I will try, but I always go about - it awkwardly.” - -Two days later this indefatigable chronicler of trifles describes -to Conway the _fête_ given by Miss Chudleigh, afterwards known as -the Duchess of Kingston, but at that time a maid of honour to the -Princess-Dowager of Wales: - - “Oh, that you had been at her ball t’other night! History - could never describe it and keep its countenance. The Queen’s - real birthday, you know, is not kept: this Maid of Honour kept - it--nay, while the Court is in mourning, expected people to - be out of mourning; the Queen’s family really was so, Lady - Northumberland having desired leave for them. A scaffold was - erected in Hyde-park for fireworks. To show the illuminations - without to more advantage, the company were received in an - apartment totally dark, where they remained for two hours.… - The fireworks were fine, and succeeded well. On each side - of the court were two large scaffolds for the Virgin’s[38] - tradespeople. When the fireworks ceased, a large scene was - lighted in the court, representing their Majesties; on each - side of which were six obelisks, painted with emblems, and - illuminated; mottoes beneath in Latin and English.… The lady - of the house made many apologies for the poorness of the - performance, which she said was only oil-paper, painted by - one of her servants; but it really was fine and pretty. Behind - the house was a cenotaph for the Princess Elizabeth, a kind - of illuminated cradle; the motto, _All the honours the dead - can receive_. This burying-ground was a strange codicil to a - festival; and, what was more strange, about one in the morning, - this sarcophagus burst out into crackers and guns. The Margrave - of Anspach began the ball with the Virgin. The supper was most - sumptuous.” - -A fortnight afterwards he writes: - - “June 7th. - - “Last night we had a magnificent entertainment at Richmond - House, a masquerade and fireworks. A masquerade was a new sight - to the young people, who had dressed themselves charmingly, - without having the fear of an earthquake before their eyes, - though Prince William and Prince Henry[39] were not suffered - to be there. The Duchesses of Richmond and Grafton, the first - as a Persian Sultana, the latter as Cleopatra,--and such a - Cleopatra! were glorious figures, in very different styles. - Mrs. Fitzroy in a Turkish dress, Lady George Lenox and Lady - Bolingbroke as Grecian girls, Lady Mary Coke as Imoinda, and - Lady Pembroke as a pilgrim, were the principal beauties of the - night. The whole garden was illuminated, and the apartments. - An encampment of barges decked with streamers in the middle of - the Thames, kept the people from danger, and formed a stage - for the fireworks, which were placed, too, along the rails of - the garden. The ground rooms lighted, with suppers spread, - the houses, covered and filled with people, the bridge, the - garden full of masks, Whitehall crowded with spectators to see - the dresses pass, and the multitude of heads on the river who - came to light by the splendour of the fire-wheels, composed - the gayest and richest scene imaginable, not to mention the - diamonds and sumptuousness of the habits. The Dukes of York and - Cumberland, and the Margrave of Anspach, were there, and about - six hundred masks.” - -In the intervals of these engagements, he is busy at Strawberry Hill. -Thus, in arranging a short visit to George Montagu, he says (July 1): - - “The journey you must accept as a great sacrifice either to you - or to my promise, for I quit the Gallery almost in the critical - minute of consummation. Gilders, carvers, upholsterers, and - picture-cleaners are labouring at their several forges, and - I do not love to trust a hammer or a brush without my own - supervisal. This will make my stay very short, but it is a - greater compliment than a month would be at another season; and - yet I am not profuse of months. Well, but I begin to be ashamed - of my magnificence; Strawberry is growing sumptuous in its - latter day; it will scarce be any longer like the fruit of its - name, or the modesty of its ancient demeanour, both which seem - to have been in Spenser’s prophetic eye, when he sung of - - “‘---- the blushing strawberries - Which lurk, close-shrouded from high-looking eyes, - Showing that sweetness low and hidden lies.’ - - “In truth, my collection was too great already to be lodged - humbly; it has extended my walls, and pomp followed. It - was a neat, small house; it now will be a comfortable one, - and, except one fine apartment, does not deviate from its - simplicity. Adieu! I know nothing about the world, and am only - Strawberry’s and yours sincerely.” - -Our next extract shows that, however fond of frequenting large parties, -the writer had little inclination to give them, at any rate, in his -toy-house: - - “We had, last Monday, the prettiest ball that ever was seen, - at Mrs. Anne Pitt’s, in the compass of a silver penny. There - were one hundred and four persons, of which number fifty-five - supped. The supper-room was disposed with tables and benches - back to back, in the manner of an ale-house. The idea - sounds ill; but the fairies had so improved upon it, had so - _be-garlanded_, so _sweetmeated_, and so _desserted_ it, that - it looked like a vision. I told her she could only have fed - and stowed so much company by a miracle, and that, when we - were gone, she would take up twelve baskets-full of people. - The Duchess of Bedford asked me before Madame de Guerchy, - if I would not give them a ball at Strawberry? Not for the - universe! What! turn a ball, and dust, and dirt, and a million - of candles, into my charming new gallery! I said, I could - not flatter myself that people would give themselves the - trouble of going eleven miles for a _ball_--(though I believe - they would go fifty).--‘Well, then,’ says she, ‘it shall be a - _dinner_.’--‘With all my heart, I have no objection; but no - ball shall set its foot within my doors.’”--_Walpole to Lord - Hertford, Feb. 24, 1764._ - -The promised dinner was duly given. “Strawberry,” we read soon -afterwards, “has been more sumptuous to-day than ordinary, and -banquetted their representative Majesties of France and Spain.… They -really seemed quite pleased with the place and the day; but I must tell -you, the treasury of the abbey will feel it, for, without magnificence, -all was handsomely done.” Mrs. Anne Pitt, the giver of the ball, was -present at the banquet. In describing to a foreigner this lady’s strong -likeness to her famous brother, Walpole once said happily, “Qu’ils -se ressemblaient comme deux gouttes de _feu_.” Another eccentric -entertainer of the day was the Duchess of Queensberry, “very clever, -very whimsical, and just not mad.” Of her we are told: - - “Last Thursday, the Duchess of Queensberry gave a ball, opened - it herself with a minuet, and danced two country dances: as she - had enjoined everybody to be with her by six, to sup at twelve, - and go away directly.… The only extraordinary thing the Duchess - did, was to do nothing extraordinary, for I do not call it very - mad that some pique happening between her and the Duchess of - Bedford, the latter had this distich sent to her, - - “‘Come with a whistle, and come with a call, - Come with a good will, or come not at all.’ - - “I do not know whether what I am going to tell you did not - border a little upon Moorfields.[40] The gallery where they - danced was very cold. Lord Lorn, George Selwyn, and I, retired - into a little room, and sat comfortably by the fire. The - Duchess looked in, said nothing, and sent a smith to take - the hinges of the door off. We understood the hint, and left - the room, and so did the smith the door. This was pretty - legible.”--_Walpole to Lord Hertford, March 11, 1764._ - -A little later on we have more gossip about the humours of the day and -of Lady Queensberry. Writing to the same correspondent, under date of -February 12, 1765, Horace says: - - “If it was not too long to transcribe, I would send you an - entertaining petition[41] of the periwig-makers to the King, - in which they complain that men will wear their own hair. - Should one almost wonder if carpenters were to remonstrate, - that since the peace their trade decays, and that there is no - demand for wooden legs? Apropos, my Lady Hertford’s friend, - Lady Harriot Vernon, has quarrelled with me for smiling at the - enormous head-gear of her daughter, Lady Grosvenor. She came - one night to Northumberland-house with such display of friz, - that it literally spread beyond her shoulders. I happened to - say it looked as if her parents had stinted her in hair before - marriage, and that she was determined to indulge her fancy now. - This, among ten thousand things said by all the world, was - reported to Lady Harriot, and has occasioned my disgrace. As - she never found fault with anybody herself, I excuse her! You - will be less surprised to hear that the Duchess of Queensberry - has not yet done dressing herself marvellously: she was at - Court on Sunday in a gown and petticoat of red flannel. The - same day the Guerchys made a dinner for her, and invited Lord - and Lady Hyde, the Forbes’s, and her other particular friends: - in the morning she sent word she was to go out of town, but as - soon as dinner was over, arrived at Madame de Guerchy’s, and - said she had been at Court.” - -On February 14th, he adds in the same letter: - - “The new Assembly Room at Almack’s was opened the night before - last, and they say is very magnificent, but it was empty; - half the town is ill with colds, and many were afraid to go, - as the house is scarcely built yet. Almack advertised that - it was built with hot bricks and boiling water--think what a - rage there must be for public places, if this notice, instead - of terrifying, could draw anybody thither. They tell me the - ceilings were dropping with wet--but can you believe me, when - I assure you the Duke of Cumberland was there?--Nay, had had - a levee in the morning, and went to the Opera before the - assembly! There is a vast flight of steps, and he was forced - to rest two or three times. If he dies of it,--and how should - he not?--it will sound very silly when Hercules or Theseus ask - him what he died of, to reply, ‘I caught my death on a damp - staircase at a new club-room.’” - -The reader will be inclined to wonder how, with so many distractions, -Walpole found time for all this letter-writing, and still more how he -managed to come before the public as an author. His, however, was the -pen of an extremely ready writer, and, when not otherwise engaged, he -plied it with unwearied diligence. This appears in the following letter -to Cole, the Cambridge antiquary, in which Horace gives an account of -the origin and composition of his well-known romance. The letter shows -also the writer’s love of collecting and designing curiosities: - - “Strawberry Hill, March 9, 1765. - - “I had time to write but a short note with the ‘Castle of - Otranto,’ as your messenger called on me at four o’clock, as I - was going to dine abroad. Your partiality to me and Strawberry - have, I hope, inclined you to excuse the wildness of the story. - You will even have found some traits to put you in mind of - this place. When you read of the picture quitting its panel, - did not you recollect the portrait of Lord Falkland, all in - white, in my Gallery? Shall I even confess to you, what was the - origin of this romance! I waked one morning, in the beginning - of last June, from a dream, of which, all I could recover - was, that I had thought myself in an ancient castle (a very - natural dream for a head filled like mine with Gothic story), - and that on the uppermost bannister of a great staircase I - saw a gigantic hand in armour. In the evening I sat down, and - began to write, without knowing in the least what I intended - to say or relate. The work grew on my hands, and I grew fond - of it--add, that I was very glad to think of anything, rather - than politics. In short, I was so engrossed with my tale, which - I completed in less than two months, that one evening, I wrote - from the time I had drunk my tea, about six o’clock, till half - an hour after one in the morning, when my hand and fingers - were so weary, that I could not hold the pen to finish the - sentence, but left Matilda and Isabella talking, in the middle - of a paragraph. You will laugh at my earnestness; but if I - have amused you, by retracing with any fidelity the manners of - ancient days, I am content, and give you leave to think me as - idle as you please.… - - “When you go into Cheshire, and upon your ramble, may I trouble - you with a commission? but about which you must promise me not - to go a step out of your way. Mr. Bateman has got a cloister - at Old Windsor, furnished with ancient wooden chairs, most of - them triangular, but all of various patterns, and carved and - turned in the most uncouth and whimsical forms. He picked them - up one by one, for two, three, five, or six shillings a-piece - from different farm-houses in Herefordshire. I have long - envied and coveted them. There may be such in poor cottages, - in so neighbouring a county as Cheshire. I should not grudge - any expense for purchase or carriage; and should be glad even - of a couple such for my cloister here. When you are copying - inscriptions in a churchyard in any village, think of me, and - step into the first cottage you see--but don’t take further - trouble than that.… - - “My bower is determined, but not at all what it is to be. - Though I write romances, I cannot tell how to build all that - belongs to them. Madame Danois, in the Fairy Tales, used to - _tapestry_ them with _jonquils_; but as that furniture will not - last above a fortnight in the year, I shall prefer something - more huckaback. I have decided that the outside shall be of - _treillage_, which, however, I shall not commence, till I have - again seen some of old Louis’s old-fashioned _Galanteries_ at - Versailles. Rosamond’s bower, you, and I, and Tom Hearne know, - was a labyrinth: but as my territory will admit of a very short - clew, I lay aside all thoughts of a mazy habitation: though - a bower is very different from an arbour, and must have more - chambers than one. In short, I both know, and don’t know, what - it should be. I am almost afraid I must go and read Spenser, - and wade through his allegories, and drawling stanzas, to get - at a picture. But, good night! you see how one gossips, when - one is alone, and at quiet on one’s own dunghill!--Well! it may - be trifling; yet it is such trifling as Ambition never is happy - enough to know! Ambition orders palaces, but it is Content that - chats for a page or two over a bower.” - -A large part of Walpole’s correspondence was despatched at night after -his return from the theatre or a reception. His habits were late. He -was a late riser, and he often played cards till two or three o’clock -in the morning. Whist he disliked, but gave himself to faro, while -that game was in vogue, and afterwards to loo, with all the fervour -of a devotee. But when not thus occupied, the hours observed by -the fashionable world allowed him to retire early to his desk. How -different those hours were then from what they now are, may be gathered -from Walpole’s amusing sketch of a retarded dinner, at which he was a -sufferer, in 1765: - - “Now for my disaster; you will laugh at it, though it was woful - to me. I was to dine at Northumberland-house, and went a little - after hour: there I found the Countess, Lady Betty Mackenzie, - Lady Strafford; my Lady Finlater, who was never out of Scotland - before; a tall lad of fifteen, her son; Lord Drogheda, and Mr. - Worseley. At five, arrived Mr. Mitchell, who said the Lords - had begun to read the Poor-bill, which would take at least two - hours, and perhaps would debate it afterwards. We concluded - dinner would be called for, it not being very precedented for - ladies to wait for gentlemen:--no such thing. Six o’clock - came,--seven o’clock came,--our coaches came,--well! we - sent them away, and excuses were we were engaged. Still the - Countess’s heart did not relent, nor uttered a syllable of - apology. We wore out the wind and the weather, the Opera and - the Play, Mrs. Cornelys’s and Almack’s, and every topic that - would do in a formal circle. We hinted, represented--in vain. - The clock struck eight: my Lady, at last, said, she would - go and order dinner; but it was a good half-hour before it - appeared. We then sat down to a table for fourteen covers: but - instead of substantials, there was nothing but a profusion - of plates striped red, green, and yellow, gilt plate, blacks - and uniforms! My Lady Finlater, who had never seen these - embroidered dinners, nor dined after three, was famished. The - first course stayed as long as possible, in hopes of the Lords: - so did the second. The dessert at last arrived, and the middle - dish was actually set on when Lord Finlater and Mr. Mackay - arrived!--would you believe it?--the dessert was remanded, and - the whole first course brought back again!--Stay, I have not - done:--just as this second first course had done its duty, Lord - Northumberland, Lord Strafford, and Mackenzie came in, and - the whole began a third time! Then the second course and the - dessert! I thought we should have dropped from our chairs with - fatigue and fumes! When the clock struck eleven, we were asked - to return to the drawing-room, and drink tea and coffee, but I - said I was engaged to supper, and came home to bed.” - -A few weeks later he laments his idle life in a letter to Lady Hervey: - - “It is scandalous, at my age, to have been carried backwards - and forwards to balls and suppers and parties by very young - people, as I was all last week. My resolutions of growing - old and staid are admirable: I wake with a sober plan, and - intend to pass the day with my friends--then comes the Duke - of Richmond, and hurries me down to Whitehall to dinner--then - the Duchess of Grafton sends for me to loo in Upper Grosvenor - Street--before I can get thither, I am begged to step to - Kensington, to give Mrs. Anne Pitt my opinion about a - bow-window--after the loo, I am to march back to Whitehall - to supper--and after that, am to walk with Miss Pelham on - the terrace till two in the morning, because it is moonlight - and her chair is not come. All this does not help my morning - laziness; and, by the time I have breakfasted, fed my birds and - my squirrels, and dressed, there is an auction ready. In short, - Madam, this was my life last week, and is I think every week, - with the addition of forty episodes.” - -Of course, this confession was not intended to be read quite seriously. -It is to be taken with two grains of allowance, one for humour, the -other for affectation. It was the writer’s pleasure to overact the part -of an idle fine gentleman. But we may fairly conclude from the last -two extracts that five o’clock was the dinner-hour of extreme fashion -at this time. It would seem that the customary hour was three even -with people of rank, and that in the greatest houses it was usual to -serve supper. When Horace could escape from the loo-table in Upper -Grosvenor Street, had no engagement to supper, and was not forced to -pace Whitehall Terrace with a belated spinster till two in the morning, -he was able to be at home and in bed--or at work with his books or his -pen--by eleven o’clock. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - The Gout.--Visits to Paris.--Bath.--John Wesley.--Bad - Weather.--English Summers.--Quitting Parliament.--Madame - du Deffand.--Human Vanity.--The Banks of the Thames.--A - Subscription Masquerade.--Extravagance of the Age.--The - Pantheon.--Visiting Stowe with Princess Amelia.--George - Montagu.--The Countess of Ossory.--Powder-Mills Blown up at - Hounslow.--Distractions of Business and Pleasure. - - -Walpole’s acquaintance with the gout began before he had reached -his fortieth year. Its earliest approaches he received without much -discomposure. His chief reason, he said, for objecting to “this -alderman distemper” was that he could show no title to it. “If either -my father or mother had had it, I should not dislike it so much. I am -herald enough to approve it if descended genealogically; but it is an -absolute upstart in me, and what is more provoking, I had trusted to -my great abstinence for keeping me from it: but thus it is, if I had -any gentleman-like virtue, as patriotism or loyalty, I might have got -something by them; I had nothing but that beggarly virtue temperance, -and she had not interest enough to keep me from a fit of the gout.” -By degrees, however, the attacks of his enemy became too severe to -be dismissed with pleasantries like these. In the summer of 1765, -he was prostrated by a seizure which held him prisoner for several -weeks. On recovering about the middle of September, he undertook -a journey to Paris, partly to recruit his strength, and partly in -execution of a long-formed design. He remained in the French capital -till the following spring, mixing much in the society of the place, -and doing ample justice to the wit and grace of Frenchwomen, but -shrinking from and detesting the French philosophers.[42] During this -period was formed his friendship with Madame du Deffand, his “dear -old blind woman,” as he often calls her, with whom, after his return -to England, he maintained a weekly correspondence for the rest of her -life. Altogether, he derived so much pleasure from his visit, that he -repeated it every alternate summer down to that of 1771; and we find -him in Paris again in 1775. - -He had another illness in the middle of 1766, for which he tried the -Bath waters; but Bath proved not at all to his taste, though he met the -great Lord Chatham there, and many other persons of distinction. “These -watering-places,” he says, “that mimic a capital, and add vulgarisms -and familiarities of their own, seem to me like abigails in cast gowns, -and I am not young enough to take up with either.” Finding himself -dull at Bath, he attended a Wesleyan service, of which he gives a -somewhat flippant description: - - “My health advances faster than my amusement. However, I have - been at one opera, Mr. Wesley’s. They have boys and girls with - charming voices, that sing hymns, in parts, to Scotch ballad - tunes; but indeed so long, that one would think they were - already in eternity, and knew how much time they had before - them. The chapel is very neat, with true Gothic windows (yet - I am not converted); but I was glad to see that luxury is - creeping in upon them before persecution: they have very neat - mahogany stands for branches, and brackets of the same in - taste. At the upper end is a broad _hautpas_ of four steps, - advancing in the middle: at each end of the broadest part are - two of _my_ eagles,[43] with red cushions for the parson and - clerk. Behind them rise three more steps, in the midst of which - is a third eagle for pulpit. Scarlet armed chairs to all three. - On either hand, a balcony for elect ladies. The rest of the - congregation sit on forms. Behind the pit, in a dark niche, - is a plain table within rails; so you see the throne is for - the apostle. Wesley is a lean elderly man, fresh-coloured, his - hair smoothly combed, but with a _soupçon_ of curl at the ends. - Wondrous clean, but as evidently an actor as Garrick. He spoke - his sermon, but so fast, and with so little accent, that I am - sure he has often uttered it, for it was like a lesson. There - were parts and eloquence in it; but towards the end he exalted - his voice, and acted very ugly enthusiasm; decried learning, - and told stories, like Latimer, of the fool of his college, - who said, ‘I _thanks_ God for everything.’ Except a few from - curiosity, and _some honourable women_, the congregation was - very mean. There was a Scotch Countess of Buchan, who is - carrying a pure rosy vulgar face to heaven, and who asked Miss - Rich, if that was _the author of the poets_. I believe she - meant me and the Noble Authors.” - -Walpole was in a peevish humour about this time. He was out of -health, and dispirited besides by an apprehension that the climate -of Twickenham did not suit him. Thus he writes from Strawberry Hill: -“What afflicts me most is, that I am persuaded that this place is too -damp for me. I revive after being in London an hour, like a member of -Parliament’s wife. It will be a cruel fate, after having laid out so -much money here, and building upon it as the nest of my old age, if I -am driven from it by bad health.” Unfavourable weather seems to have -been in some measure the cause of these fears, and of the writer’s -disordered condition. Though the harvest-time of 1766 was fine, the -crops, we are told, had been spoilt by previous rains, and the years -which followed were a cycle of wet and cold seasons. Walpole grumbles -at the weather with English vigour and French vivacity. Thus he writes -to Montagu, in June, 1768: - - “I perceive the deluge fell upon you before it reached us. - It began here but on Monday last, and then rained near - eight-and-forty hours without intermission. My poor hay has - not a dry thread to its back. I have had a fire these three - days. In short, every summer one lives in a state of mutiny - and murmur, and I have found the reason: it is because we will - affect to have a summer, and we have no title to any such - thing. Our poets learnt their trade of the Romans, and so - adopted the terms of their masters. They talk of shady groves, - purling streams, and cooling breezes, and we get sore throats - and agues with attempting to realize these visions. Master - Damon writes a song, and invites Miss Chloe to enjoy the cool - of the evening, and never a bit have we of any such thing as - a cool evening. Zephyr is a north-east wind, that makes Damon - button up to the chin, and pinches Chloe’s nose till it is red - and blue; and then they cry, _This is a bad summer!_ as if we - ever had any other. The best sun we have is made of Newcastle - coal, and I am determined never to reckon upon any other. We - ruin ourselves with inviting over foreign trees, and making our - houses clamber up hills to look at prospects. How our ancestors - would laugh at us, who knew there was no being comfortable, - unless you had a high hill before your nose, and a thick warm - wood at your back! Taste is too freezing a commodity for us, - and, depend upon it, will go out of fashion again.--There is - indeed a natural warmth in this country, which, as you say, - I am very glad not to enjoy any longer; I mean the hot-house - in St. Stephen’s chapel. My own sagacity makes me very vain, - though there was very little merit in it. I had seen so much of - all parties, that I had little esteem left for any; it is most - indifferent to me who is in or who is out, or which is set in - the pillory, Mr. Wilkes or my Lord Mansfield. I see the country - going to ruin, and no man with brains enough to save it. That - is mortifying; but what signifies who has the undoing it? I - seldom suffer myself to think on this subject: _my_ patriotism - could do no good, and my philosophy can make me be at peace.” - -The concluding lines of the above extract refer to the writer’s recent -retirement from the House of Commons. In the spring of the preceding -year, Walpole had announced that he should not again ask the suffrages -of the Lynn burgesses, stating as his reasons the declining state of -his health and his wish to withdraw from all public business; and -though his health had improved in the interval, the General Election -of 1768 found him fixed in his decision. Whatever may have been the -real motives of his conduct, there is no indication in his Letters that -he ever regretted the course he had taken. In June, 1769, he writes -from Strawberry Hill: “I am come hither for two months, very busy with -finishing my round tower, which has stood still these five years, and -with an enchanting new cottage that I have built, and other little -works. In August, I shall go to Paris for six weeks. In short, I am -delighted with having bid adieu to Parliament and politics, and with -doing nothing but what I like all the year round.” But the season was -again rainy. A few days later, we have a letter to Cole, who was then -settled at Waterbeach, near Cambridge: - - “Strawberry Hill, Monday, June 26, 1769. - - “Oh! yes, yes, I shall like Thursday or Friday, 6th or 7th, - exceedingly; I shall like your staying with me two days - exceedinglier; and longer exceedingliest: and I will carry you - back to Cambridge on our pilgrimage to Ely. But I should not at - all like to be catched in the glories of an installation,[44] - and find myself a doctor, before I knew where I was. It will be - much more agreeable to find the whole _caput_ asleep, digesting - turtle, dreaming of bishoprics, and humming old catches of - Anacreon, and scraps of Corelli. I wish Mr. Gray may not be - set out for the north; which is rather the case than setting - out for the summer. We have no summers, I think, but what - we raise, like pine-apples, by fire. My hay is an absolute - _water-souchy_, and teaches me how to feel for you. You are - quite in the right to sell your fief in Marshland. I should be - glad if you would take one step more, and quit Marshland. We - live, at least, on terra firma in this part of the world, and - can saunter out without stilts. _Item_, we do not wade into - pools, and call it going upon the water, and get sore throats. - I trust yours is better; but I recollect this is not the first - you have complained of. Pray be not incorrigible, but come to - shore.” - -At the end of August he is in Paris with Madame du Deffand. “My dear -old woman,” he writes, “is in better health than when I left her, and -her spirits so increased, that I tell her she will go mad with age. -When they ask her how old she is, she answers, ‘J’ai soixante et mille -ans.’” In a letter written to George Montagu a week afterwards, we have -a description of this true Frenchwoman: - - “Your two letters flew here together in a breath. I shall - answer the article of business first. I could certainly buy - many things for you here, that you would like, the reliques - of the last age’s magnificence; but since my Lady Holdernesse - invaded the Custom-House with an hundred and fourteen gowns, - in the reign of that two-penny monarch George Grenville, the - ports are so guarded, that not a soul but a smuggler can - smuggle anything into England; and I suppose you would not care - to pay seventy-five per cent. on second-hand commodities. All - I transported three years ago, was conveyed under the canon - of the Duke of Richmond. I have no interest in our present - representative; nor if I had, is he returning. Plate, of all - earthly vanities, is the most impassable: it is not counterband - in its metallic capacity, but totally so in its personal; - and the officers of the Custom-House not being philosophers - enough to separate the substance from the superficies, brutally - hammer both to pieces, and return you--only the intrinsic; a - compensation which you, who are no member of Parliament, would - not, I trow, be satisfied with. Thus I doubt you must retrench - your generosity to yourself, unless you can contract it into - an Elzevir size, and be content with anything one can bring in - one’s pocket. - - “My dear old friend was charmed with your mention of her, - and made me vow to return you a thousand compliments. She - cannot conceive why you will not step hither. Feeling in - herself no difference between the spirits of twenty-three and - seventy-three, she thinks there is no impediment to doing - whatever one will, but the want of eyesight. If she had that, - I am persuaded no consideration would prevent her making me - a visit at Strawberry Hill. She makes songs, sings them, and - remembers all that ever were made; and, having lived from the - most agreeable to the most reasoning age, has all that was - amiable in the last, all that is sensible in this, without the - vanity of the former, or the pedant impertinence of the latter. - I have heard her dispute with all sorts of people, on all sorts - of subjects, and never knew her in the wrong. She humbles the - learned, sets right their disciples, and finds conversation - for everybody. Affectionate as Madame de Sévigné, she has none - of her prejudices, but a more universal taste; and, with the - most delicate frame, her spirits hurry her through a life of - fatigue that would kill me, if I was to continue here. If we - return by one in the morning from suppers in the country, she - proposes driving to the Boulevard or to the Foire St. Ovide, - because it is too early to go to bed. I had great difficulty - last night to persuade her, though she was not well, not to - sit up till between two and three for the comet; for which - purpose she had appointed an astronomer to bring his telescopes - to the president Henault’s, as she thought it would amuse - me. In short, her goodness to me is so excessive, that I - feel unashamed at producing my withered person in a round of - diversions, which I have quitted at home. I tell a story; I do - feel ashamed, and sigh to be in my quiet castle and cottage; - but it costs me many a pang, when I reflect that I shall - probably never have resolution enough to take another journey - to see this best and sincerest of friends, who loves me as much - as my mother did! but it is idle to look forward--what is next - year?--a bubble that may burst for her or me, before even the - flying year can hurry to the end of its almanack!… - - “Adieu, my t’other dear old friend! I am sorry to say, I see - you almost as seldom as I do Madame du Deffand. However, it is - comfortable to reflect that we have not changed to each other - for some five-and-thirty years, and neither you nor I haggle - about naming so ancient a term. I made a visit yesterday to - the Abbess of Panthemont, General Oglethorpe’s niece, and no - chicken. I inquired after her mother, Madame de Mezieres, and - thought I might to a spiritual votary to immortality venture - to say, that her mother must be very old; she interrupted me - tartly, and said, no, her mother had been married extremely - young. Do but think of its seeming important to a saint to - sink a wrinkle of her own through an iron grate! Oh! we are - ridiculous animals; and if angels have any fun in them; how we - must divert them.” - -Once more in England, he announces his return to the same friend: - - “Strawberry Hill, Oct. 16, 1769. - - “I arrived at my own Louvre last Wednesday night, and am now at - my Versailles. Your last letter reached me but two days before - I left Paris, for I have been an age at Calais and upon the - sea. I could execute no commission for you, and, in truth, you - gave me no explicit one; but I have brought you a bit of china, - and beg you will be content with a little present, instead of a - bargain. Said china is, or will be soon, in the Custom-House; - but I shall have it, I fear, long before you come to London.… - - “I feel myself here like a swan, that, after living six weeks - in a nasty pool upon a common, is got back into its own Thames. - I do nothing but plume and clean myself, and enjoy the verdure - and silent waves. Neatness and greenth are so essential in my - opinion to the country, that in France, where I see nothing but - chalk and dirty peasants, I seem in a terrestrial purgatory - that is neither town nor country. The face of England is so - beautiful, that I do not believe Tempe or Arcadia were half - so rural; for both lying in hot climates, must have wanted - the turf of our lawns. It is unfortunate to have so pastoral - a taste, when I want a cane more than a crook. We are absurd - creatures; at twenty, I loved nothing but London.” - -The winter of 1769-70 Walpole spent as usual in London. He now -moralizes on masquerades in the tone of an ancient: - - “It is very lucky, seeing how much of the tiger enters into - the human composition, that there should be a good dose of - the monkey too. If Æsop had not lived so many centuries - before the introduction of masquerades and operas, he would - certainly have anticipated my observation, and worked it - up into a capital fable. As we still trade upon the stock - of the ancients, we seldom deal in any other manufacture; - and, though nature, after new combinations, lets forth new - characteristics, it is very rarely that they are added to the - old fund; else how could so striking a remark have escaped - being made, as mine, on the joint ingredients of tiger and - monkey? In France the latter predominates, in England the - former; but, like Orozmades and Arimanius, they get the better - by turns. The bankruptcy in France, and the rigours of the new - Comptroller-General, are half forgotten, in the expectation - of a new opera at the new theatre. Our civil war[45] has been - lulled to sleep by a Subscription Masquerade, for which the - House of Commons literally adjourned yesterday. Instead of - Fairfaxes and Cromwells, we have had a crowd of Henry the - Eighths, Wolseys, Vandykes, and Harlequins; and because Wilkes - was not mask enough, we had a man dressed like him, with a - visor, in imitation of his squint, and a Cap of Liberty on a - pole. In short, sixteen or eighteen young lords have given the - town a Masquerade; and politics, for the last fortnight, were - forced to give way to habit-makers. The ball was last night - at Soho; and, if possible, was more magnificent than the - King of Denmark’s. The Bishops opposed: he of London formally - remonstrated to the King, who did not approve it, but could - not help him. The consequence was, that four divine vessels - belonging to the holy fathers, alias their wives, were at this - Masquerade. Monkey again! A fair widow,[46] who once bore my - whole name, and now bears half of it, was there, with one of - those whom the newspapers call _great personages_--he dressed - like Edward the Fourth, she like Elizabeth Woodville, in - grey and pearls, with a black veil. Methinks it was not very - difficult to find out the meaning of those masks. - - “As one of my ancient passions, formerly, was Masquerades, I - had a large trunk of dresses by me. I dressed out a thousand - young Conways[47] and Cholmondeleys,[48] and went with more - pleasure to see them pleased than when I formerly delighted in - that diversion myself. It has cost me a great headache, and I - shall probably never go to another. A symptom appeared of the - change that has happened in the people. - - “The mob was beyond all belief: they held flambeaux to the - windows of every coach, and demanded to have the masks pulled - off and put on at their pleasure, but with extreme good-humour - and civility. I was with my Lady Hertford and two of her - daughters, in their coach: the mob took me for Lord Hertford, - and huzzaed and blessed me! One fellow cried out, ‘Are you for - Wilkes?’ another said, ‘You fool, what has Wilkes to do with a - Masquerade?’ - - “In good truth, that stock is fallen very low. The Court has - recovered a majority of seventy-five in the House of Commons; - and the party has succeeded so ill in the Lords, that my Lord - Chatham has betaken himself to the gout, and appears no more. - What Wilkes may do at his enlargement in April, I don’t know, - but his star is certainly much dimmed. The distress of France, - the injustice they have been induced to commit on public - credit, immense bankruptcies, and great bankers hanging and - drowning themselves, are comfortable objects in our prospect; - for one tiger is charmed if another tiger loses his tail.” - -Again, he descants on the extravagance of the age: - - “What do you think of a winter-Ranelagh[49] erecting in Oxford - Road, at the expense of sixty thousand pounds? The new Bank, - including the value of the ground, and of the houses demolished - to make room for it, will cost three hundred thousand; and - erected, as my Lady Townley[50] says, _by sober citizens too_! - I have touched before to you on the incredible profusion of our - young men of fashion. I know a younger brother who literally - gives a flower-woman half a guinea every morning for a bunch - of roses for the nosegay in his button-hole. There has lately - been an auction of stuffed birds; and, as natural history is - in fashion, there are physicians and others who paid forty - and fifty guineas for a single Chinese pheasant: you may buy - a live one for five. After this, it is not extraordinary that - pictures should be dear. We have at present three exhibitions. - One West,[51] who paints history in the taste of Poussin, gets - three hundred pounds for a piece not too large to hang over a - chimney. He has merit, but is hard and heavy, and far unworthy - of such prices. The rage to see these exhibitions is so great, - that sometimes one cannot pass through the streets where - they are. But it is incredible what sums are raised by mere - exhibitions of anything--a new fashion; and to enter at which - you pay a shilling or half-a-crown. Another rage is for prints - of English portraits: I have been collecting them above thirty - years, and originally never gave for a mezzotinto above one or - two shillings. The lowest are now a crown; most, from half a - guinea to a guinea. Lately, I assisted a clergyman [Granger] in - compiling a catalogue of them; since the publication, scarce - heads in books, not worth threepence, will sell for five - guineas. Then we have Etruscan vases, made of earthenware, in - Staffordshire [by Wedgwood] from two to five guineas; and _or - moulu_, never made here before, which succeeds so well, that a - teakettle, which the inventor offered for one hundred guineas, - sold by auction for one hundred and thirty. In short, we are at - the height of extravagance and improvements, for we do improve - rapidly in taste as well as in the former. I cannot say so much - for our genius. Poetry is gone to bed, or into our prose; we - are like the Romans in that too. If we have the arts of the - Antonines,--we have the fustian also.” - -Our ancestors seem to have been much impressed with the splendour of -the London Pantheon. Walpole recurs to the subject: “If we laugh at -the French, they stare at us. Our enormous luxury and expense astonish -them. I carried their Ambassador and a Comte de Levi the other morning -to see the new winter-Ranelagh [the Pantheon] in Oxford Road, which is -almost finished. It amazed me myself. Imagine Balbec in all its glory! -The pillars are of artificial _giallo antico_. The ceilings, even of -the passages, are of the most beautiful stuccos in the best taste of -grotesque. The ceilings of the ball-rooms, and the panels, painted like -Raphael’s _loggias_ in the Vatican. A dome like the Pantheon, glazed. -Monsieur de Guisnes said to me, ‘Ce n’est qu’à Londres qu’on peut faire -tout cela.’” What a sermon would our moralist have preached, could he -have foreseen that, in the reign of George III’s grand-daughter, this -English Balbec would become a repository for cheap wines! - -In July, 1770, Walpole received a command to attend the Princess Amelia -on a visit to Stowe. He describes what occurred to George Montagu: - - “The party passed off much better than I expected. A Princess - at the head of a very small set for five days together did not - promise well. However, she was very good-humoured and easy, - and dispensed with a large quantity of etiquette. Lady Temple - is good-nature itself, my Lord was very civil, Lord Besborough - is made to suit all sorts of people, Lady Mary Coke respects - royalty too much not to be very condescending, Lady Anne - Howard[52] and Mrs. Middleton filled up the drawing-room, or - rather made it out, and I was so determined to carry it off as - well as I could, and happened to be in such good spirits, and - took such care to avoid politics, that we laughed a great deal, - and had not a cloud the whole time. - - “We breakfasted at half an hour after nine; but the Princess - did not appear till it was finished; then we walked in the - garden, or drove about it in cabriolets, till it was time to - dress; dined at three, which, though properly proportioned to - the smallness of company to avoid ostentation, lasted a vast - while, as the Princess eats and talks a great deal; then again - into the garden till past seven, when we came in, drank tea - and coffee, and played at pharaoh till ten, when the Princess - retired, and we went to supper, and before twelve to bed. You - see there was great sameness and little vivacity in all this. - It was a little broken by fishing, and going round the park one - of the mornings; but, in reality, the number of buildings and - variety of scenes in the garden, made each day different from - the rest, and my meditations on so historic a spot prevented - my being tired. Every acre brings to one’s mind some instance - of the parts or pedantry, of the taste or want of taste, of - the ambition or love of fame, or greatness or miscarriages, - of those that have inhabited, decorated, planned, or visited - the place. Pope, Congreve, Vanbrugh, Kent, Gibbs, Lord Cobham, - Lord Chesterfield, the mob of nephews, the Lytteltons, - Grenvilles, Wests, Leonidas Glover, and Wilkes, the late Prince - of Wales, the King of Denmark, Princess Amelia, and the proud - monuments of Lord Chatham’s services, now enshrined there, then - anathematised there, and now again commanding there, with the - Temple of Friendship,[53] like the Temple of Janus, sometimes - open to war, and sometimes shut up in factious cabals--all - these images crowd upon one’s memory, and add visionary - personages to the charming scenes, that are so enriched with - fanes and temples, that the real prospects are little less than - visions themselves. - - “On Wednesday night, a small Vauxhall was acted for us at - the grotto in the Elysian fields, which was illuminated with - lamps, as were the thicket and two little barks on the lake. - With a little exaggeration, I could make you believe that - nothing ever was so delightful. The idea was really pretty; - but, as my feelings have lost something of their romantic - sensibility, I did not quite enjoy such an entertainment _al - fresco_ so much as I should have done twenty years ago. The - evening was more than cool, and the destined spot anything but - dry. There were not half lamps enough, and no music but an - ancient militia-man, who played cruelly on a squeaking tabor - and pipe. As our procession descended the vast flight of steps - into the garden, in which was assembled a crowd of people from - Buckingham and the neighbouring villages to see the Princess - and the show, the moon shining very bright, I could not help - laughing as I surveyed our troop, which, instead of tripping - lightly to such an Arcadian entertainment, were hobbling down - by the balustrades, wrapped up in cloaks and great-coats, for - fear of catching cold. The Earl, you know, is bent double, the - Countess very lame; I am a miserable walker, and the Princess, - though as strong as a Brunswick lion, makes no figure in going - down fifty stone stairs. Except Lady Anne, and by courtesy Lady - Mary, we were none of us young enough for a pastoral. We supped - in the grotto, which is as proper to this climate as a sea-coal - fire would be in the dog-days at Tivoli. - - “But the chief entertainment of the week, at least what was so - to the Princess, is an arch, which Lord Temple has erected to - her honour in the most enchanting of all picturesque scenes. - It is inscribed on one side, ‘AMELIÆ SOPHIÆ, AUG.,’ and has - a medallion of her on the other. It is placed on an eminence - at the top of the Elysian fields, in a grove of orange-trees. - You come to it on a sudden, and are startled with delight on - looking through it: you at once see, through a glade, the river - winding at the bottom; from which a thicket rises, arched over - with trees, but opened, and discovering a hillock full of - hay-cocks, beyond which in front is the Palladian bridge, and - again over that a larger hill crowned with the castle. It is a - tall landscape framed by the arch and the overbowering trees, - and comprehending more beauties of light, shade, and buildings, - than any picture of Albano I ever saw. - - “Between the flattery and the prospect, the Princess was really - in Elysium: she visited her arch four and five times every day, - and could not satiate herself with it. The statues of Apollo - and the Muses stand on each side of the arch. One day she found - in Apollo’s hand the following lines, which I had written for - her, and communicated to Lord Temple.” - -We spare our readers the verses. The letter from which we have -been quoting is one of the last of Walpole’s letters to Montagu. -A coolness arose the same year between the two friends, either -without a cause, or for some cause which has not been explained, and -continued until Montagu’s death in 1780.[54] That Walpole regretted -the breach his tone in referring to it shows, and his readers have -reason to regret it likewise, for his letters to Montagu display more -warmth of feeling and simplicity of style than any others in his -published correspondence. A few months before Montagu drops out of -sight, Lady Ossory appears in the list of the ladies to whom Walpole -addressed sprightly letters in a strain of oddly mingled ceremony and -familiarity. He had been on terms of friendship with her before her -divorce from the Duke of Grafton; in his letters of that period he -frequently refers to her as his Duchess, and speaks of following her -and loo all over the kingdom. There can be no doubt that he often wrote -to her at that time, but the first of his published letters to her is -dated after her marriage with Lord Ossory. Here are two letters to -her, one describing the damage done to his castle by an explosion of -powder-mills at Hounslow, the other the sea of troubles into which he -was plunged when his nephew, Lord Orford, was seized with insanity. The -first letter was begun in London on the 5th January, 1772: - - “I was waked very early this morning, by half an hour after - nine; (I mean this for flattery, for Mr. Crauford says your - ladyship does not rise till one); by the way, I was in the - middle of a charming dream. I thought I was in the King’s - Library in Paris, and in a gallery full of books of prints, - containing nothing but _fêtes_ decorations of scenery. I took - down a long Roll, on which was painted, on vellum, all the - ceremonies of the present reign: there was the young King - walking to his coronation; the Regent before, who I thought - was alive. I said to him, your Royal Highness has a great air; - he seemed extremely flattered, when the house shook as if the - devil were come for him. I had scarce recovered my vexation at - being so disturbed, when the door of my room shook so violently - that I thought somebody was breaking it open, though I knew it - was not locked. It was broad daylight, but I did not know that - housebreaking might not be still improving. I cried out ‘Who is - there?’ Nobody answered. In less than another minute, the door - rattled and shook still more robberaceously. I call again--no - reply. I rung: the housemaid ran in as pale as white ashes, if - you ever saw such, and cried, ‘Goodness! Sir, I am frightened - out of my wits: there has been an earthquake!’ Oh! I believed - her immediately. Philip [his valet] came in, and, being a Swiss - philosopher, insisted it was only the wind. I sent him down to - collect opinions in the street. He returned, and owned every - body in this and the neighbouring streets were persuaded their - houses had been breaking open; or had ran out of them, thinking - there was an earthquake. Alas! it was much worse; for you know, - Madam, our earthquakes are as harmless as a new-born child. - At one, came in a courier from Margaret [his housekeeper] to - tell me that five powder-mills had been blown up at Hounslow, - at half an hour after nine this morning, had almost shook Mrs. - Clive, and had broken parts or all of eight of my painted - windows, besides other damage. This is a cruel misfortune: I - don’t know how I shall repair it! I shall go down to-morrow, - and on Thursday will finish my report. - - “Wednesday, 8th. - - “Well! Madam, I am returned from my poor shattered castle, and - never did it look so Gothic in its born days. You would swear - it had been besieged by the Presbyterians in the Civil Wars, - and that, finding it impregnable, they had vented their holy - malice on the painted glass. As this gunpowder-army passed - on, it demolished Mr. Hindley’s fine bow-window of ancient - Scripture histories; and only because your ladyship is my ally, - broke the large window over your door, and wrenched off a lock - in your kitchen. Margaret sits by the waters of Babylon, and - weeps over Jerusalem. I shall pity those she shows the house - to next summer, for her story is as long and deplorable as a - chapter of casualties in ‘Baker’s Chronicle;’ yet she was not - taken quite unprepared, for one of the Bantam hens crowed on - Sunday morning, and the chandler’s wife told her three weeks - ago, when the barn was blown down, that ill-luck never comes - single. She is, however, very thankful that the China Room has - escaped, and says, Heaven has always been the best creature - in the world to her. I dare not tell her how many churches I - propose to rob, to repair my losses.” - -The second is dated: - - “Strawberry Hill, past midnight, June 11, 1773. - - “Unless I borrow from my sleep, I can certainly have no time - to please myself. I am this minute arrived here, Madam, and - being the flower of chivalry, I sacrifice, like a true knight, - the moments I steal from my rest to gallantry. Save me, or - I shall become a solicitor in Chancery, unless business and - fatigue overset my head, and reduce me to my poor nephew’s - state. Indeed, I am half hurried out of my senses. Think of me - putting queries to lawyers, up to the ears in mortgages, wills, - settlements, and contingent remainders. My lawyer is sent away - that I may give audience to the Honourable Mr. Manners, the - genuine, if not the legitimate son of Lord William. He came - civilly yesterday morning to ask me if he might not seize the - pictures at Houghton, which he heard were worth threescore - thousand pounds, for nine thousand he has lent Lord Orford. The - vulture’s throat gaped for them all--what a scene is opened! - Houghton will be a rookery of harpies--I doubt there are worse - scenes to follow, and black transactions! What occupation - chalked out for an end of a life that I had calculated for - tranquillity, and which gout and law are to divide between them! - - “In the midst of this prospect must I keep up the tone of the - world, go shepherdising with Macaronies, sit up at loo with - my Lady Hertford, be witness to Miss Pelham’s orgies, dine - at villas, and give dinners at my own. ’Tis well my spirits - and resolution have survived my youth: you have heard how my - mornings pass--now for the rest. Consultations of physicians, - letters to Lady Orford, sent for to my brother, decent visits - to _my_ Court,[55] sup at Lady Powis’s on Wednesday, drink - tea with all the fashionable world at Mr. Fitzroy’s farm on - Thursday, blown by a north wind there into the house, and - whisk back to Lady Hertford’s; this morning to my brother’s to - hear of new bills, away to dine at ----, Muswell Hill, with - the Beauclerks, and florists and natural historians, Banks - and Solanders; return to town, step to ask a friend whether - reversions of jointures can be left away, into my chaise and - hither. To-morrow come two Frenchmen to dinner--on Monday, a - man to sell me two acres immensely dear as a favour,--Philip - [his valet], I cannot help it, you must go and put him off; - I have not a minute, I must go back to-morrow night to meet - the lawyers at my brother’s on Sunday morning. Margaret [his - housekeeper] comes in. ‘Sir, Lady Bingham desires you will - dine with her at Hampton Court on Tuesday;’ I cannot. ‘Sir, - Captain What-d’ye-call’m has sent twice for a ticket to see the - house’--Don’t plague me about tickets. ‘Sir, a servant from - Isleworth brought this parcel.’ What on earth is in it?--only - printed proposals for writing the lives of all British writers, - and a letter to tell me I could do it better than anybody, but - as I may not have time, Dr. Berkenhout proposes to do it, and - will write mine into the bargain, if I will but be so good as - to write it first and send it him, and give him advice for the - conduct of his work, and point out materials, and furnish him - with anecdotes. - - “My dear madam, what if you should send him this letter as a - specimen of my life! Alas, alas! I have already lost my lilac - tide. I have heard but one nightingale this year, and my farmer - cut my hay last Tuesday morning without telling me, just as I - was going to London. Is it to be borne? O for the _sang-froid_ - of an Almackian, who pursues his delights, - - “‘Though in the jaws of ruin and codille!’” - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - Lord Nuneham.--Madame de Sévigné.--Charles Fox.--Mrs. Clive - and Cliveden.--Goldsmith and Garrick.--Dearth of News.--Madame - de Trop.--A Bunch of Grapes.--General Election.--Perils by - Land and Water.--Sir Horace Mann.--Lord Clive.--The History - of Manners.--A Traveller from Lima.--The Sçavoir Vivre - Club.--Reflections on Life.--The Pretender’s Happiness.--Paris - Fashions.--Madame Du Deffand ill.--Growth of London.--Sir - Joshua Reynolds.--Change in Manners.--Our Climate. - - -The following letter is a specimen of Horace’s gossiping style at -its best. It is addressed to Lord Nuneham, who was in Ireland with -his father, Simon Earl Harcourt, the then Lord-Lieutenant. Elsewhere -Walpole salutes his correspondent as “Your O’Royal Highness”: - - “Strawberry Hill, Dec. 6, 1773. - - “I wanted an excuse for writing to you, my dear Lord, and - your letter gives me an opportunity of thanking you; yet that - is not all I wanted to say. I would, if I had dared, have - addressed myself to Lady Nuneham, but I had not confidence - enough, especially on so unworthy a subject as myself. Lady - Temple, my friend, as well as that of Human Nature, has shown - me some verses; but alas! how came such charming poetry to be - thrown away on so unmeritorious a topic? I don’t know whether - I ought to praise the lines most, or censure the object most. - Voltaire makes the excellence of French poetry consist in the - number of difficulties it vanquishes. Pope, who celebrated - Lord Bolingbroke, could not have succeeded, did not succeed, - better; and yet I hope that, though a meaner subject, I am - not so bad an one! Well! with all my humility, I cannot but - be greatly flattered. Madame de Sévigné spread her leaf-gold - over all her acquaintance, and made them shine; I should not - doubt of the same glory, when Lady Nuneham’s poetry shall - come to light, if my own works were but burnt at the same - time; but alas! Coulanges’ verses were preserved, and so may - my writings too. Apropos, my Lord, I have got a new volume of - that divine woman’s letters. Two are entertaining; the rest, - not very divine. But there is an application, the happiest, - the most exquisite, that even she herself ever made! She is - joking with a President de Provence, who was hurt at becoming a - grandfather. She assures him there is no such great misfortune - in it; ‘I have experienced the case,’ says she, ‘and, believe - me, _Pæte, non dolet_.’ If you are not both transported with - _this_, ye are not the Lord and Lady Nuneham I take ye to be. - There are besides some twenty letters of Madame de Simiane, who - shows she would not have degenerated totally, if she had not - lived in the country, or had anything to say. At the end are - reprinted Madame de Sévigné’s letters on Fouquet’s Trial, which - are very interesting. - - “I do not know how you like your new subjects, but I hear - they are extremely content with their Prince and Princess. I - ought to wish your Lordship joy of all your prosperities, and - of Mr. Fludd’s baptism into the Catholic or Universal Faith; - but I reserve public felicities for your old _Drawing-Room_ - in Leicester Fields. Private news we have little but Lord - Carmarthen’s and Lord Cranborne’s marriages, and the - approaching one of Lady Bridget Lane and Mr. Tall-Match. Lord - Holland has given Charles Fox a draught of an hundred thousand - pounds, and it pays all his debts, but a trifle of thirty - thousand pounds, and those of Lord Carlisle, Crewe, and Foley, - who being only friends, not Jews, may wait. So now any younger - son may justify losing his father’s and elder brother’s estate - on precedent.[56] - - “Neither Lord nor Lady Temple are well, and yet they are both - gone to Lord Clare’s, in Essex, for a week. Lord Temple had a - very bad fall in the Park, and lost his senses for an hour. - Yet, though the horse is a vicious one, he has been upon it - again. In short, there are no right-headed people but the Irish! - - “As it is ancient good breeding not to conclude a letter - without troubling the reader with compliments, and as I have - none to send, I must beg your Lordship not to forget to present - my respects to the Countesses of Barrymore and Massareene, - my dear Sisters in Loo. You may be sure I am charged with a - large parcel from Cliveden,[57] where I was last night. Except - being extremely ill, Mrs. Clive is extremely well; but the - tax-gatherer is gone off, and she must pay her window-lights - over again; and the road before her door is very bad, and the - parish won’t mend it, and there is some suspicion that Garrick - is at the bottom of it; so if you please to send a shipload of - the Giant’s Causey by next Monday, we shall be able to go to - Mr. Rofey’s rout at Kingston. The Papers said she was to act at - Covent Garden, and she has printed a very proper answer in the - _Evening Post_. Mr. Raftor[58] told me, that formerly, when he - played Luna in ‘The Rehearsal,’ he never could learn to dance - the Hays, and at last he went to the Man that teaches grown - gentlemen. - - “Miss Davis[59] is the admiration of all London, but of me, who - do not love the perfection of what anybody can do, and wish she - had less top to her voice and more bottom. However, she will - break Millico’s heart, which will not break mine. Fierville - has sprained his leg, and there is another man who sprains his - mouth with smiling on himself--as I have heard, for I have - not seen him yet, nor a fat old woman and her lean daughter, - who dance with him. London is very dull, so pray come back as - soon as you can. Mason is up to the ears in ‘Gray’s Life;’ - you will like it exceedingly, which is more than you will do - this long letter. Well! you have but to go into Lady Nuneham’s - dressing-room, and you may read something ten thousand times - more pleasing. No, no! you are not the most to be pitied of any - human being, though in the midst of Dublin Castle.” - -Next to the above, Walpole’s liveliest letters about this date were -written to Lady Ossory. Sometimes he has to lament the want of news: -“Pray, Madam, where is the difference between London and the country, -when everybody is in the country and nobody in town? The houses do -not marry, intrigue, talk politics, game, or fling themselves out -of window. The streets do not all run to the Alley, nor the squares -mortgage themselves over head and ears. The play-houses do not pull -themselves down; and all summer long, when nobody gets about them, -they behave soberly and decently as any Christian in the parish -of Marylebone. The English of this preface is that I have not the -Israelitish art of making bricks without straw. I cannot invent news -when nobody commits it.” He has nothing better to tell than an anecdote -of Goldsmith, who died a few months later, and Garrick: “I dined and -passed Saturday at Beauclerk’s, with the Edgecombes, the Garricks, and -Dr. Goldsmith, and was most thoroughly tired, as I knew I should be, I -who hate the playing off a butt. Goldsmith is a fool, the more wearying -for having some sense. It was the night of a new comedy, called ‘The -School for Wives,’[60] which was exceedingly applauded, and which -Charles Fox says is execrable. Garrick has at least the chief hand in -it. I never saw anybody in a greater fidget, nor more vain when he -returned, for he went to the play-house at half-an-hour after five, and -we sat waiting for him till ten, when he was to act a speech in ‘Cato’ -with Goldsmith! that is, the latter sat in t’other’s lap, covered with -a cloak, and while Goldsmith spoke, Garrick’s arms that embraced him, -made foolish actions. How could one laugh when one had expected this -for four hours?” On Christmas night 1773, he writes: “This has been a -very barren half-year. The next, I hope, will reinstate my letters in -their proper character of newspapers.” - -The event, however, belied his hopes. In June, 1774, he writes to his -Countess: - - “Offended at you, Madam! I have crossed myself forty times - since I read the impious words, never to be pronounced by - human lips,--nay, and to utter them, when I am seemingly to - blame!--yet, believe me, my silence is not owing to negligence, - or to that most wicked of all sins, inconstancy. I have thought - on you waking or sleeping, whenever I have thought at all, - from the moment I saw you last; and if there was an echo in - the neighbourhood besides Mr. Cambridge, I should have made - it repeat your Ladyship’s name, till the parish should have - presented it for a nuisance. I have begun twenty letters, but - the naked truth is, I found I had absolutely nothing to say. - You yourself owned, Madam, that I am grown quite lifeless, and - it is very true. I am none of your Glastonbury thorns that - blow at Christmas. I am a remnant of the last age, and have - nothing to do with the present. I am an exile from the sunbeams - of drawing-rooms; I have quitted the gay scenes of Parliament - and the Antiquarian Society; I am not of Almack’s; I don’t - understand horse-races; I never go to reviews; what can I have - to talk of? I go to no _fêtes champêtres_, what can I have to - think of? I know nothing but about myself, and about myself - I know nothing. I have scarce been in town since I saw you, - have scarce seen anybody here, and don’t remember a tittle but - having scolded my gardener twice, which, indeed, would be as - important an article as any in Montaigne’s Travels, which I - have been reading, and if I was tired of his Essays, what must - one be of these! What signifies what a man thought, who never - thought of anything but himself; and what signifies what a man - did, who never did anything?” - -In August, hearing that Lady Ossory had again been disappointed of a -son, he tells her: “I don’t design to acknowledge Anne III.; I shall -call her _Madame de Trop_, as they named one of the late King of -France’s daughters. A _dauphin_! a _dauphin_! I will repeat it as often -as the _Graces_.” A month later he is informed that _Madame de Trop_ -has received the name of Gertrude: - - “MADAM,--‘Methinks an Æsop’s fable you relate,’ as Dryden says - in the ‘Hind and Panther.’ A mouse that wraps itself in a - French cloak and sleeps on a couch; and a goldfinch that taps - at the window and swears it will come in to quadrille at eleven - o’clock at night! no, no, these are none of Æsop’s cattle; they - are too fashionable to have lived so near the creation. The - mouse is neither Country Mouse nor City Mouse; and whatever - else he may be, the goldfinch must be a Macaroni, or at least - of the _Sçavoir vivre_. I do not deny but I have some skill in - expounding types and portents; and could give a shrewd guess - at the identical persons who have travestied themselves into a - quadruped and biped; but the truth is, I have no mind, Madam, - to be Prime Minister. King Pharaoh is mighty apt on emergencies - to send for us soothsayers, and put the whole kingdom into our - hands, if his butler or baker, with whom he is wont to gossip, - does but tell him of a cunning man. - - “I have no ambition to supplant Lord North--especially as - the season approaches when I dread the gout; and I should be - very sorry to be fetched out of my bed to pacify America. - To be sure, Madam, you give me a fair field for uttering - oracles: however, all I will unfold is, that the emblematic - animals have no views on Lady Louisa.[61] The omens of her - fortune are in herself; and I will burn my books, if beauty, - sense, and merit, do not bestow all the happiness on her they - prognosticate.… - - “I like the blue eyes, Madam, better than the denomination of - Lady Gertrude Fitzpatrick, which, all respectable as it is, is - very harsh and rough sounding; pray let her change it with the - first goldfinch that offers. Nay, I do not even trust to the - blueth of the eyes. I do not believe they last once in twenty - times. One cannot go into any village fifty miles from London - without seeing a dozen little children with flaxen hair and - eyes of sky-blue. What becomes of them all? One does not see a - grown Christian with them twice in a century, except in poetry. - - “The Strawberry Gazette is very barren of news. Mr. Garrick - has the gout, which is of more consequence to the metropolis - than to Twitnamshire. Lady Hertford dined here last Saturday, - brought her loo party, and stayed supper; there were Lady - Mary Coke, Mrs. Howe, and the Colonels Maude and Keene. This - was very heroic, for one is robbed every hundred yards. Lady - Hertford herself was attacked last Wednesday on Hounslow - Heath at three in the afternoon, but she had two servants on - horseback, who would not let her be robbed, and the highwayman - decamped. - - “The greatest event I know was a present I received last - Sunday, just as I was going to dine at Lady Blandford’s, to - whom I sacrificed it. It was a bunch of grapes as big--as - big--as that the two spies carried on a pole to Joshua; for - spies in those days, when they robbed a vineyard, were not - at all afraid of being overtaken. In good truth, this bunch - weighed three pounds and a half, _côte rôtie_ measure; and was - sent to me by my neighbour Prado, of the tribe of Issachar, - who is descended from one of foresaid spies, but a good deal - richer than his ancestor. Well, Madam, I carried it to the - Marchioness of Blandford, but gave it to the _maître d’hotel_, - with injunctions to conceal it till the dessert. At the end of - dinner, Lady Blandford said, she had heard of three immense - bunches of grapes at Mr. Prado’s, at a dinner he had made for - Mr. Welbore Ellis. I said those things were always exaggerated. - She cried, Oh! but Mrs. Ellis told it, and it weighed I don’t - know how many pounds, and the Duke of Argyll had been to see - the hothouse, and she wondered, as it was so near, I would - not go and see it. Not I, indeed, said I; I dare to say there - is no curiosity in it. Just then entered the gigantic bunch. - Everybody screamed. There, said I, I will be shot if Mr. - Prado has such a bunch as yours. In short, she suspected Lady - Egremont, and the adventure succeeded to admiration. If you - will send the Bedfordshire waggon, Madam, I will beg a dozen - grapes for you.… - - “Pray, Madam, is not it Farming-Woods’ tide?[62] Who is to have - the care of the dear mouse in your absence? I wish I could - spare Margaret [his housekeeper], who loves all creatures so - well that she would have been happy in the Ark, and sorry when - the Deluge ceased; unless people had come to see Noah’s old - house, which she would have liked still better than cramming - his menagerie.” - -[Illustration: _Sir Joshua Reynolds. Pinx._ _A. Dawson. Ph. Sc._ _J. -Raphael Smith. Sc._ - -_Lady Gertrude Fitzpatrick._] - -The dearth of news was presently relieved by a General Election, about -which and other topics Walpole writes to Mann: - - “Strawberry Hill, Oct. 6, 1774. - - “It would be unlike my attention and punctuality, to see so - large an event as an irregular dissolution of Parliament, - without taking any notice of it to you. It happened last - Saturday, six months before its natural death, and without the - design being known but the Tuesday before, and that by very few - persons. The chief motive is supposed to be the ugly state of - North America, and the effects that a cross winter might have - on the next elections. Whatever were the causes, the first - consequences, as you may guess, were such a ferment in London - as is seldom seen at this dead season of the year. Couriers, - despatches, post-chaises, post-horses, hurrying every way! - Sixty messengers passed through one single turnpike on Friday. - The whole island is by this time in equal agitation; but less - wine and money will be shed than have been at any such period - for these fifty years.… - - “The first symptoms are not favourable to the Court; the great - towns are casting off submission, and declaring for popular - members. London, Westminster, Middlesex, seem to have no - monarch but Wilkes, who is at the same time pushing for the - Mayoralty of London, with hitherto a majority on the poll. - It is strange how this man, like a phœnix, always revives - from his embers! America, I doubt, is still more unpromising. - There are whispers of their having assembled an armed force, - and of earnest supplications arrived for succours of men and - ships. A civil war is no trifle; and how we are to suppress - or pursue in such a vast region, with a handful of men, I am - not an Alexander to guess; and for the fleet, can we put it - upon casters and wheel it from Hudson’s Bay to Florida? But - I am an ignorant soul, and neither pretend to knowledge nor - foreknowledge. All I perceive already is, that our Parliaments - are subjected to America and India, and must be influenced by - their politics; yet I do not believe our senators are more - universal than formerly. - - “It would be quite unfashionable to talk longer of anything but - elections; and yet it is the topic on which I never talk or - think, especially since _I took up my freedom_.[63]… - - “In the midst of this combustion, we are in perils by land and - water. It has rained for this month without intermission. There - is a sea between me and Richmond, and Sunday was se’nnight I - was hurried down to Isleworth in the ferryboat by the violence - of the current, and had great difficulty to get to shore. Our - roads are so infested by highwaymen, that it is dangerous - stirring out almost by day. Lady Hertford was attacked on - Hounslow Heath at three in the afternoon. Dr. Eliot was shot - at three days ago, without having resisted; and the day before - yesterday we were near losing our Prime Minister, Lord North; - the robbers shot at the postilion, and wounded the latter. In - short, all the freebooters, that are not in India, have taken - to the highway. The Ladies of the Bedchamber dare not go to the - Queen at Kew in an evening. The lane between me and the Thames - is the only safe road I know at present, for it is up to the - middle of the horses in water. Next week I shall not venture - to London even at noon, for the Middlesex election is to be - at Brentford, where the two demagogues, Wilkes and Townshend, - oppose each other; and at Richmond there is no crossing the - river. How strange all this must appear to you Florentines; but - you may turn to your Machiavelli and Guicciardini, and have - some idea of it. I am the quietest man at present in the whole - island; not but I might take some part, if I would. I was in my - garden yesterday, seeing my servants lop some trees; my brewer - walked in and pressed me to go to Guildhall for the nomination - of members for the county. I replied, calmly, ‘Sir, when I - would go no more to my own election, you may be very sure I - will go to that of nobody else.’ My old tune is, - - “‘Suave mari magno turbantibus æquora ventis,’ &c. - - “Adieu! - - “P.S. Arlington Street, 7th. - - “I am just come to town, and find your letter.… The approaching - death of the Pope will be an event of no consequence. That old - mummery is near its conclusion, at least as a political object. - The history of the latter Popes will be no more read than - that of the last Constantinopolitan Emperors. Wilkes is a more - conspicuous personage in modern story than the Pontifex Maximus - of Rome. The poll for Lord Mayor ended last night; he and his - late Mayor had above 1,900 votes, and their antagonists not - 1,500. It is strange that the more he is opposed, the more he - succeeds!” - -The foregoing is an average sample of the bulk of Walpole’s Letters -to Sir Horace Mann. It was to these Macaulay referred when he said, -sneeringly, that Walpole “left copies of his private letters, with -copious notes, to be published after his decease.” There can be no -doubt that their author regarded them as a valuable contribution to -the history of his times. And such, in truth, they were. Many of them -contain full details of some political movement, written by one who, -if not himself engaged in the struggle, was in close communication -with the actors on one side at least. Hence, though these letters may -be loaded with bias, they are often of solid substance. If they are -not equally important for our present purpose, this is because they -deal almost entirely with public matters and with the general news of -the day. “Nothing is so pleasant in a letter,” writes Walpole to Lady -Ossory, “as the occurrences of society. I am always regretting in my -correspondence with Madame du Deffand and Sir Horace Mann, that I must -not make use of them, as the one has never lived in England, and the -other not these fifty years; and so, my private stories would want -notes as much as Petronius. Sir Horace and I have no acquaintance in -common but the Kings and Queens of Europe.” - -In a letter to Mann, dated November 24, 1774, Walpole returns to the -subject of the new Parliament: - - “A great event happened two days ago--a political and moral - event; the sudden death of that second Kouli Khan, Lord Clive. - There was certainly illness in the case; the world thinks more - than illness. His constitution was exceedingly broken and - disordered, and grown subject to violent pains and convulsions. - He came unexpectedly to town last Monday, and they say, ill. On - Tuesday his physician gave him a dose of laudanum, which had - not the desired effect. On the rest, there are two stories; - one, that the physician repeated the dose; the other, that he - doubled it himself, contrary to advice.[64] In short, he has - terminated at fifty a life of so much glory, reproach, art, - wealth, and ostentation! He had just named ten members for the - new Parliament.[65] - - “Next Tuesday that Parliament is to meet--and a deep game it - has to play! few Parliaments a greater. The world is in amaze - here that no account is arrived from America of the result of - their General Congress--if any is come, it is very secret; and - _that_ has no favourable aspect. The combination and spirit - there seem to be universal, and is very alarming. I am the - humble servant of events, and you know never meddle with - prophecy. It would be difficult to descry good omens, be the - issue what it will. - - “The old French Parliament is restored with great _éclat_. - Monsieur de Maurepas, author of the revolution, was received - one night at the Opera with boundless shouts of applause. It - is even said that the mob intended, when the King should go - to hold the _lit de justice_, to draw his coach. How singular - it would be if Wilkes’s case should be copied for a King of - France! Do you think Rousseau was in the right, when he said - that he could tell what would be the manners of any capital - city, from certain given lights? I don’t know what he may do on - Constantinople and Pekin--but Paris and London! I don’t believe - Voltaire likes these changes. I have seen nothing of his - writing for many months; not even on the poisoning Jesuits.[66] - For our part, I repeat it, we shall contribute nothing to the - _Histoire des Mœurs_, not for want of materials, but for want - of writers. We have comedies without novelty, gross satires - without stings, metaphysical eloquence, and antiquarians that - discover nothing. - - “‘Bœotûm in crasso jurares aere natos!’ - - “Don’t tell me I am grown old and peevish and - supercilious--name the geniuses of 1774, and I submit. The next - Augustan age will dawn on the other side of the Atlantic. There - will, perhaps, be a Thucydides at Boston, a Xenophon at New - York, and, in time, a Virgil at Mexico, and a Newton at Peru. - At last, some curious traveller from Lima will visit England, - and give a description of the ruins of St. Paul’s, like the - editions of Balbec and Palmyra; but am I not prophesying, - contrary to my consummate prudence, and casting horoscopes of - empires like Rousseau? Yes; well, I will go and dream of my - visions.” - -More than one writer has cited Walpole’s traveller from Lima as the -original of Lord Macaulay’s traveller from New Zealand, who, in the -midst of a vast solitude, takes his stand on a broken arch of London -Bridge to sketch the ruins of St. Paul’s. Others have traced the -passage in the celebrated Review of Ranke’s “History of the Popes,” -to Volney, Mrs. Barbauld, Kirke White, and Shelley; while others -again have pointed out that, from whatsoever source derived, the idea -expressed in this passage had been twice before employed by Macaulay, -once, in 1824, in a Review of Mitford’s “Greece,” and the second time, -in 1829, in his Review of Mill’s “Essay on Government.” The picture of -the New Zealander, however, resembles the less ambitious, but equally -graphic, figure of the traveller from Lima more closely than it does -any of the other passages referred to.[67] What is remarkable is, that -the Review of Ranke’s “History” appeared in October, 1840, whereas the -later portion of Walpole’s correspondence with Mann, to which the above -extract belongs, was first published from the original manuscripts -in 1843. How then could Macaulay know anything of the Peruvian -stranger?[68] - -The following was also addressed to Sir H. Mann. It is dated in May, -1775: - - “You have not more Masquerades in Carnival than we have; there - is one at the Pantheon to-night, another on Monday; and in June - is to be a pompous one on the water, and at Ranelagh. This and - the first are given by the Club called the _Sçavoir Vivre_, - who till now have only shone by excess of gaming. The leader - is that fashionable orator Lord Lyttelton,[69] of whom I need - not tell you more. I have done with these diversions, and enjoy - myself here. Your old acquaintance, Lord and Lady Dacre, and - your old friend, Mr. Chute, dined with me to-day: poor Lord - Dacre[70] is carried about, though not worse than he has been - these twenty years. Strawberry was in great beauty; what joy I - should have in showing it to you! Is this a wish I must never - indulge? Alas! - - “I have had a long chain of thoughts since I wrote the last - paragraph. They ended in smiling at the word _never_. How - one pronounces it to the last moment! Would not one think I - counted on a long series of years to come? Yet no man has the - termination of all his views more before his eyes, or knows - better the idleness of framing visions to one’s self. One - passes away so soon, and worlds succeed to worlds, in which the - occupiers build the same castles in the air. What is ours but - the present moment? And how many of mine are gone! And what - do I want to show you? A plaything-vision, that has amused a - poor transitory mortal for a few hours, and that will pass - away like its master! Well, and yet is it not as sensible to - conform to common ideas, and to live while one lives? Perhaps - the wisest way is to cheat one’s self. Did one concentre all - one’s thoughts on the nearness and certainty of dissolution, - all the world would lie eating and sleeping like the savage - Americans. Our wishes and views were given us to gild the dream - of life, and if a Strawberry Hill can soften the decays of - age, it is wise to embrace it, and due gratitude to the Great - Giver to be happy with it. The true pain is the reflection on - the numbers that are not so blessed; yet I have no doubt but - the real miseries of life--I mean those that are unmerited and - unavoidable,--will be compensated to the sufferers. Tyrants - are a proof of an hereafter. Millions of men cannot be formed - for the sport of a cruel child. - - “How happy is the Pretender in missing a Crown! When dead, he - will have all the advantage that other Kings have, the being - remembered; and that greater advantage, which Kings who die - in their childhood have, historians will say, he would have - been a great King if he had lived to reign; and that greatest - advantage which so very few of them have, his reign will be - stained with no crimes and blunders. If he is at Florence, - pray recommend me to him for his historian; you see I have all - the qualities a Monarch demands, I am disposed to flatter him. - You may tell him too what I have done for his uncle Richard - III. The mischief is in it, if I am not qualified for a Royal - Historiographer, when I have whitewashed one of the very few - whom my brethren, so contrary to their custom, have agreed to - traduce.” - -In the autumn of 1775, Walpole was in Paris, whence he sends, for the -benefit of Conway’s daughter, this important piece of information: -“Tell Mrs. Damer, that the fashion now is to erect the _toupée_ into a -high detached tuft of hair, like a cockatoo’s crest; and this _toupée_ -they call _la physionomie_--I don’t guess why.” And in giving George -Selwyn an account of the modish French ladies whom he met, he adds a -description suited to the humour of that facetious gentleman: “With one -of them,” he says, “you would be delighted, a Madame de Marchais. She -is not perfectly young, has a face like a Jew pedlar, her person is -about four feet, her head about six, and her _coiffure_ about ten. Her -forehead, chin, and neck are whiter than a miller’s; and she wears more -festoons of natural flowers than all the _figurantes_ at the Opera. -Her eloquence is still more abundant, her _attentions_ exuberant. She -talks volumes, writes folios--I mean in _billets_; presides over the -Académie, inspires passions.… She has a house in a nut-shell, that is -fuller of invention than a fairy tale; her bed stands in the middle -of the room, because there is no other space that would hold it; it -is surrounded by a perspective of looking-glasses.…” In reference -to the rage for _billets,_ he mentions “a collection that was found -last winter at Monsieur de Pondeveylle’s: there were sixteen thousand -from one lady, in a correspondence of only eleven years. For fear of -setting the house on fire if thrown into the chimney, the executors -crammed them into the oven.” “There have been known,” he adds, “persons -here who wrote to one another four times a day; and I was told of one -couple, who being always together, and the lover being fond of writing, -he placed a screen between them, and then wrote to Madam on t’other -side, and flung them over.” Of his “dear old friend,” he reports: - - “Madame du Deffand has been so ill, that the day she was - seized I thought she would not live till night. Her Herculean - weakness, which could not resist strawberries and cream after - supper, has surmounted all the _ups_ and _downs_ which followed - her excess; but her impatience to go everywhere and to do - everything has been attended with a kind of relapse, and - another kind of giddiness; so that I am not quite easy about - her, as they allow her to take no nourishment to recruit, and - she will die of inanition, if she does not live upon it. She - cannot lift her head from the pillow without _étourdissemens_; - and yet her spirits gallop faster than anybody’s, and so do - her repartees. She has a great supper to-night for the Duc de - Choiseul, and was in such a passion yesterday with her cook - about it, and that put Tonton[71] into such a rage, that _nos - dames de Saint Joseph_ thought the devil or the philosophers - were flying away with their convent! As I have scarce quitted - her, I can have had nothing to tell you. If she gets well, as I - trust, I shall set out on the 12th; but I cannot leave her in - any danger--though I shall run many myself, if I stay longer. - I have kept such bad hours with this _malade_, that I have had - alarms of gout; and bad weather, worse inns, and a voyage in - winter, will ill suit me.… - - “I must repose a great while after all this living in company; - nay, intend to go very little into the world again, as I do not - admire the French way of burning one’s candle to the very snuff - in public.” - -At the end of 1775, Sir Horace Mann’s elder brother died, the family -estate came to the Ambassador, and Walpole flattered himself “that -a regular correspondence of thirty-four years will cease, and that -I shall see him again before we meet in the Elysian fields.” He was -disappointed. In February, 1776, he writes to his old friend: “You have -chilled me so thoroughly by the coldness of your answer, and by the -dislike you express to England, that I shall certainly press you no -more to come. I thought at least it would have cost you a struggle.” -Again, a little later: “Pray be assured, I acquiesce in all you say -on your own return, though grieved at your resolution, and more so at -the necessity you find in adhering to it. It is not my disposition to -prefer my own pleasure to the welfare of my friends. Your return might -have opened a warm channel of affection which above thirty years could -not freeze; but I am sure you know my steadiness too well to suspect me -of cooling to you, because we are both grown too old to meet again. I -wished that meeting as a luxury beyond what old age often tastes; but I -am too well prepared for parting with everything to be ill-humouredly -chagrined because one vision fails.” In July, 1776, we find the -following, also addressed to Mann: - - “I did flatter myself with being diverted at your surprise - from so general an alteration of persons, objects, manners, - as you would have found; but there is an end of all that - pleasing vision! I remember when my father went out of place, - and was to return visits, which Ministers are excused from - doing, he could not guess where he was, finding himself in - so many new streets and squares. This was thirty years ago. - They have been building ever since, and one would think they - had imported two or three capitals. London could put Florence - into its fob-pocket; but as they build so slightly, if they - did not rebuild, it would be just the reverse of Rome, a vast - circumference of city surrounding an area of ruins. As its - present progress is chiefly north, and Southwark marches south, - the metropolis promises to be as broad as long. Rows of houses - shoot out every way like a polypus; and, so great is the rage - of building everywhere, that, if I stay here a fortnight, - without going to town, I look about to see if no new house is - built since I went last. America and France must tell us how - long this exuberance of opulence is to last! The East Indies, - I believe, will not contribute to it much longer. Babylon and - Memphis and Rome, probably, stared at their own downfall. - Empires did not use to philosophise, nor thought much but of - themselves. Such revolutions are better known now, and we ought - to expect them--I do not say we do. This little island will be - ridiculously proud some ages hence of its former brave days, - and swear its capital was once as big again as Paris, or--what - is to be the name of the city that will then give laws to - Europe?--perhaps New York or Philadelphia.” - -At the close of 1776, Walpole had another severe illness. It is first -mentioned in a letter to Lady Ossory: - - “It is not from being made Archbishop of York, that I write - by a secretary [Kirgate], Madam; but because my right hand - has lost its cunning. It has had the gout ever since Friday - night, and I am overjoyed with it, for there is no appearance - of its going any farther. I came to town on Sunday in a panic, - concluding I should be bedrid for three months, but I went out - last night, and think I shall be able in a few days to play - upon the guitar if I could play upon it at all.… - - “I have seen the picture of ‘St. George,’ and approve the Duke - of Bedford’s head, and the exact likeness of Miss Vernon,[72] - but the attitude is mean and foolish, and expresses silly - wonderment. But of all, delicious is a picture of a little - girl of the Duke of Buccleuch, who is overlaid with a long - cloak, bonnet, and muff, in the midst of the snow, and is - perishing blue and red with cold, but looks so smiling, and so - good-humoured, that one longs to catch her up in one’s arms and - kiss her till she squalls. - - “My hand has not a word more to say.” - -[Illustration: _Sir Joshua Reynolds. Pinx._ _A. Dawson. Ph. Sc._ _J. -Raphael Smith. Sc._ - -_Lady Caroline Montagu._] - -The attack proved obstinate, and we have again complaints of the -English climate, mixed with lamentations over the change in English -manners. Thus in February, 1777, he writes: - - “Everything is changed; as always must happen when one grows - old, and is prejudiced to one’s old ways. I do not like dining - at nearly six, nor beginning the evening at ten at night. If - one does not conform, one must live alone; and that is more - disagreeable and more difficult in town than in the country, - where old useless people ought to live. Unfortunately, the - country does not agree with me; and I am sure it is not fancy; - for my violent partiality to Strawberry Hill cannot be imposed - upon. I am persuaded that it is the dampness of this climate - that gives me so much gout; and London, from the number of - fires and inhabitants, must be the driest spot in the nation.” - -The following, written to Lord Nuneham in July, is in a gayer tone: - - “Now I have taken this liberty, my dear Lord, I must take a - little more; you know my old admiration and envy are your - garden. I do not grudge Pomona or Sir James Cockburn their - hot-houses, nor intend to ruin myself by raising sugar and - water in tanner’s bark and peach skins. The Flora Nunehamica - is the height of my ambition, and if your Linnæus should have - any disciple that would condescend to look after my little - flower-garden, it would be the delight of my eyes and nose, - provided the cataracts of heaven are ever shut again! Not one - proviso do I make, but that the pupil be not a Scot. We had - peace and warm weather before the inundation of that northern - people, and therefore I beg to have no Attila for my gardener. - - “Apropos, don’t your Lordship think that another set of - legislators, the Maccaronis and Maccaronesses, are very wise? - People abuse them for turning days, nights, hours and seasons - topsy-turvy; but surely it was upon mature reflection. We had a - set of customs and ideas borrowed from the continent that by no - means suited our climate. Reformers bring back things to their - natural course. Notwithstanding what I said in spite in the - paragraph above, we are in truth but Greenlanders, and ought to - conform to our climate. We should lay in store of provisions - and candles and masquerades and coloured lamps for ten months - in the year, and shut out our twilight and enjoy ourselves. - In September and October, we may venture out of our ark, and - make our hay, and gather in our corn, and go to horse-races, - and kill pheasants and partridges for stock for our winter’s - supper. I sailed in a skiff and pair this morning to Lady - Cecilia Johnston, and found her, like a good housewife, sitting - over her fire, with her cats and dogs and birds and children. - She brought out a dram to warm me and my servants, and we were - very merry and comfortable. As Lady Nuneham has neither so many - two-footed or four-footed cares upon her hands, I hope her - hands have been better employed. - - “I wish I could peep over her shoulder one of these wet - mornings!” - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - The American War.--Irish Discontent.--Want of - Money.--The Houghton Pictures Sold.--Removal to Berkeley - Square.--Ill-health.--A Painting by Zoffani.--The Rage for - News.--The Duke of Gloucester.--Wilkes.--Fashions, Old and - New.--Mackerel News.--Pretty Stories.--Madame de Sévigné’s - Cabinet.--Picture of his Waldegrave Nieces.--The Gordon - Riots.--Death of Madame du Deffand.--The Blue Stockings. - - -Humourist as he was, and too often swayed by prejudice, no man had a -sounder judgment than Walpole when he gave his reason fair play. In his -estimate of public events, he sometimes displayed unusual sagacity. -Though his dislike of Lord Chatham led him to disparage the efforts of -the old man eloquent to avert the American War--efforts which filled -Franklin with admiration--he yet foresaw quite as clearly as Chatham -the disastrous results of that contest. The celebrated speeches which -fell dead on the ear of Parliament had no more effect upon Walpole; -but Walpole did not need to be moved by them, for he was convinced -already. “This interlude,” he writes to Conway, who was then in Paris, -“would be entertaining, if the scene was not so totally gloomy. The -Cabinet have determined on civil war.… There is food for meditation! -Will the French you converse with be civil and keep their countenances? -Pray remember it is not decent to be dancing at Paris, when there is a -civil war in your own country. You would be like the country squire, -who passed by with his hounds as the battle of Edgehill began.” The -letter in which these words occur is dated January 22, 1775. Three -weeks later, the writer adds: “The war with our Colonies, which is now -declared, is a proof how much influence jargon has on human actions. -A war on our own trade is _popular_![73] Both Houses are as eager -for it as they were for conquering the Indies--which acquits them a -little of rapine, when they are as glad of what will impoverish them -as of what they fancied was to enrich them.” His sympathy, as well -as his judgment, was on the side of the Colonies. On September 7th, -1775, he writes to Mann: “You will not be surprised that I am what -I always was, a zealot for liberty in every part of the globe, and -consequently that I most heartily wish success to the Americans. They -have hitherto not made _one_ blunder; and the Administration have made -a thousand, besides the two capital ones, of first provoking, and -then of uniting the Colonies. The latter seem to have as good heads -as hearts, as we want both.” And on the 11th: “The Parliament is to -meet on the 20th of next month, and vote twenty-six thousand seamen! -What a paragraph of blood is there! With what torrents must liberty be -preserved in America! In England what can save it?… What prospect of -comfort has a true Englishman? Why, that Philip II. miscarried against -the boors of Holland, and that Louis XIV. could not replace James II. -on the throne!” And when Fortune declared herself on the side of the -Colonists, Horace, unmoved by the reverses of his country, steadily -preserved the same tone. “We have been horribly the aggressors,” he -wrote at the end of 1777, “and I must rejoice that the Americans are to -be free, as they had a right to be, and as I am sure they have shown -they deserve to be.” But the calamities and disgraces of the time -weighed heavily on his spirits. His correspondence throughout 1777 and -the two following years is full of the American War. He recurs to the -subject again and again, and harps upon it continually. It does not -fall within our plan to quote his criticisms and reflections on the -conduct of Lord North and his opponents. They are generally as acute -and sensible as they are always vigorous and lively. The chief mistake -one remarks in them is, that they assume the victory of America to mean -the ruin of England’s Empire. The writer saw British troops everywhere -defeated, retreating, laying down their arms; France allying herself -with the rebellious Colonies, and threatening England with invasion; -Spain joining in the hostile league; and Ireland showing fresh signs of -disaffection: what wonder if he was tempted to predict that we should -“moulder piecemeal into our insignificant islandhood?” In May, 1779, -he writes: “Our oppressive partiality to two or three manufacturing -towns in England has revolted the Irish, and they have entered into -combinations against purchasing English goods in terms more offensive -than the first associations of the Colonies. In short, we have for four -or five years displayed no alacrity or address, but in provoking our -friends and furnishing weapons of annoyance to our enemies; and the -unhappy facility with which the Parliament has subscribed to all these -oversights has deceived the Government into security, and encouraged -it to pull almost the whole fabric on its own head. We can escape but -by concessions and disgrace; and when we attain peace, the terms will -prove that Parliamentary majorities have voted away the wisdom, glory, -and power of the nation.” - -Before the date of this extract, the pressure of the war had made -itself felt in English society. In the preceding summer, Horace had -written to Mason, then engaged on his poem of “The English Garden”: - - “Distress is already felt; one hears of nothing but of the - want of money; one sees it every hour. I sit in my Blue - window, and miss nine in ten of the carriages that used to - pass before it. Houses sell for nothing, which, two years - ago, nabobs would have given lacs of diamonds for. Sir Gerard - Vanneck’s house and beautiful terrace on the Thames, with forty - acres of ground, and valued by his father at twenty thousand - pounds, was bought in last week at six thousand. Richmond is - deserted; an hundred and twenty coaches used to be counted - at the church-door--there are now twenty. I know nobody that - grows rich but Margaret. This Halcyon season has brought her - more customers than ever, and were anything to happen to her, - I have thoughts, like greater folk, of being my own minister, - and showing my house myself. I don’t wonder _your Garden_ has - grown in such a summer, and I am glad it has, that our taste - in gardening may be immortal in verse, for I doubt it has seen - its best days! Your poem may transplant it to America, whither - our best works will be carried now, as our worst used to be. Do - not you feel satisfied in knowing you shall be a classic in a - free and rising empire? Swell all your ideas, give a loose to - all your poetry; your lines will be repeated on the banks of - the Orinoko; and which is another comfort, Ossian’s ‘Dirges’ - will never be known there. Poor Strawberry must sink _in fæce - Romuli_; that melancholy thought silences me.” - -Besides being vexed at the state of public affairs, Walpole suffered -much about this time from the gout, and from family troubles. His -nephew, Lord Orford, having recovered from a second attack of insanity, -resolved on selling the pictures at Houghton. In February, 1779, Horace -writes to Lady Ossory: “The pictures at Houghton, I hear, and I fear, -are sold: what can I say? I do not like even to think on it. It is the -most signal mortification to my idolatry for my father’s memory, that -it could receive. It is stripping the temple of his glory and of his -affection. A madman excited by rascals has burnt his Ephesus. I must -never cast a thought towards Norfolk more; nor will hear my nephew’s -name if I can avoid it. Him I can only pity; though it is strange he -should recover any degree of sense, and never any of feeling!” The -transaction was not, in fact, at that moment concluded. In the course -of the same year, however, the whole gallery was sold to the Empress -of Russia for a little more than forty thousand pounds. Walpole did -not think the bargain a bad one, though he would rather, he said, the -pictures were sold to the Crown of England than to that of Russia, -where they would be burnt in a wooden palace on the first insurrection, -while in England they would still be Sir Robert Walpole’s Collection. -“But,” he added, “my grief is that they are not to remain at Houghton, -where he placed them and wished them to remain.” - -While grieving over his father’s pictures, Horace found himself -involved in a Chancery suit. The lease of his town house in Arlington -Street running out about this time, he had bought a larger house -in Berkeley Square. Difficulties, however, hindered the completion -of the purchase, and the affair went into Chancery. Fortunately, -under Walpole’s management, the suit became a friendly one. “I have -persisted in complimenting and flattering my parties, till by dint of -complaisance and respect I have brought them to pique themselves on -equal attentions; so that, instead of a lawsuit, it has more the air -of a treaty between two little German princes who are mimicking their -betters only to display their titular dignities. His Serene Highness, -Colonel Bishopp, is the most obsequious and devoted servant of my -Serenity the Landgrave of Strawberry.” The judge was equally agreeable. -“Yesterday I received notice from my attorney that the Master of the -Rolls has, with epigrammatic despatch, heard my cause, and pronounced a -decree in my favour. Surely, the whip of the new driver, Lord Thurlow, -has pervaded all the hard wheels of the law, and set them galloping. -I must go to town on Monday, and get my money ready for payment,--not -from impatience to enter on my premises, but though the French declare -they are coming to burn London, bank-bills are still more combustible -than houses, and should my banker’s shop be reduced to ashes, I might -have a mansion to pay for, and nothing to pay with. If both were -consumed, at least I should not be in debt.” The purchase-money paid, -and possession taken, the next step was to remove to Berkeley Square. -In October, 1779, he writes to Lady Ossory, whose sister-in-law,[74] -the newly-married Countess of Shelburne, was just established in the -same square: - - “My constitution, which set out under happy stars, seems to - keep pace with the change of constellations, and fail like - the various members of the empire. I am now confined with - the rheumatism in my left arm, and find no benefit from our - woollen manufacture, which I flattered myself would always be - a resource. On Monday I shall remove to Shelburne Square, - and watch impatiently the opening of the Countess’s windows; - though with all her and her Earl’s goodness to me, I doubt I - shall profit little of either. I do not love to be laughed at - or pitied, and dread exposing myself to numbers of strange - servants and young people, who wonder what Methuselah does - out of his coffin. Lady Blandford is gone; her antediluvian - dowagers dispersed; amongst whom I was still reckoned a lively - young creature. Wisdom I left forty years ago to Welbore Ellis, - and must not pretend to rival him now, when he is grown so - rich by the semblance of it. Since I cannot then act old age - with dignity, I must keep myself out of the way, and weep for - England in a corner.” - -The Lady Blandford mentioned in this passage was a widow who had lived -within a few miles of Horace, at Sheen, and had recently died. During -her illness, Walpole, in writing to Lady Ossory, had dwelt on the Roman -fortitude with which the sick lady supported her sufferings, and on the -devotion shown to her by her friend, Miss Stapylton. He added in his -usual strain: “Miss Stapylton has £30,000, and Lady Blandford nothing. -I wish we had some of these exalted characters in breeches! These two -women shine like the last sparkles in a piece of burnt paper, which the -children call the parson and clerk. Alas! the rest of our old ladies -are otherwise employed; they are at the head of fleets and armies.” -Walpole at this moment was altogether out of heart. “I see myself a -poor invalid, threatened with a painful and irksome conclusion, and -mortified at seeing the decay of my country more rapid than my own.” -But he could still keep up a tone of gaiety. In November he wrote to -Mann: - - “I went this morning to Zoffani’s to see his picture or - portrait of the ‘Tribune at Florence;’ and, though my letter - will not put on its boots these three days, I must write - while the subject is fresh in my head. The first thing I - looked for, was _you_--and I could not find you. At last I - said, ‘Pray, who is _that_ Knight of the Bath?’--‘Sir Horace - Mann.’--‘Impossible!’ said I. My dear Sir, how you have left - me in the lurch!--you are grown fat, jolly, young; while I am - become the skeleton of Methuselah.… - - “Well! but are you really so portly a personage as Zoffani has - represented you? I envy you. Everybody can grow younger and - plump, but I. My brother, Sir Edward Walpole, is as sleek as an - infant, and, though seventy-three, is still quite beautiful. He - has a charming colour, and not a wrinkle. I told him, when Lord - Orford[75] was in danger, that he might think what he would, - but I would carry him into the Court of Chancery, and put it to - the consciences of the judges, which of us two was the elder by - eleven years?” - -And two days later we have the following amusing letter to Lady Ossory: - - “Berkeley Square, Nov. 14, 1779. - - “I must be equitable; I must do the world justice; there are - really some hopes of its amendment; I have not heard one - lie these four days; but then, indeed, I have heard nothing. - Well, then, why do you write? Stay, Madam; my letter is not - got on horseback yet; nor shall it mount till it has something - to carry. It is my duty, as your gazetteer, to furnish you - with news, true or false, and you would certainly dismiss - me if I did not, at least, tell you something that was - impossible. The whole nation is content with hearing anything - new, let it be ever so bad. Tell the first man you meet that - Ireland has revolted; away he runs, and tells everybody he - meets,--everybody tells everybody, and the next morning they - ask for more news. Well, Jamaica is taken; oh, Jamaica is - taken. Next day, what news? Why, Paul Jones is landed in - Rutlandshire, and has carried off the Duchess of Devonshire, - and a squadron is fitting out to prevent it; and I am to have a - pension for having given the earliest intelligence; and there - is to be a new farce called _The Rutlandshire Invasion_, and - the King and Queen will come to town to see it, and the Prince - of Wales will not, because he is not old enough to understand - pantomimes.[76] - - “Well, Madam; having despatched the nation and its serious - affairs, one may chat over private matters. I have seen Lord - Macartney, and do affirm that he is shrunk, and has a _soupçon_ - of black that was not wont to reside in his complexion.… - - “Mr. Beauclerk has built a library in Great Russell Street, - Bloomsbury, that reaches half-way to Highgate. Everybody goes - to see it; it has put the Museum’s nose quite out of joint. - - “Now I return to politics. Sir Ralph Payne and Dr. Johnson are - answering General Burgoyne, and they say the words are to be so - long that the reply must be printed in a pamphlet as long as an - atlas, but in an Elzevir type, or the first sentence would fill - twenty pages in octavo. You may depend upon the truth of it, - for Mr. Cumberland told it in confidence to one with whom he is - not at all acquainted, who told it to one whom I never saw; so - you see, Madam, there is no questioning the authority. - - “I will not answer so positively for what I am going to tell - you, as I had it only from the person himself. The Duke of - Gloucester was at Bath with the Margrave of Anspach. Lord - Nugent came up and would talk to the Duke, and then asked if - he might take the liberty of inviting his Royal Highness to - dinner? I think you will admire the quickness and propriety of - the answer:--the Duke replied, ‘My Lord, I make no acquaintance - but in London,’ where you know, Madam, he only has levees. The - Irishman continued to talk to him even after that rebuff. He - certainly hoped to have been very artful--to have made court - there, and yet not have offended anywhere else[77] by not going - in town, which would have been a gross affront to the Duke, had - he accepted the invitation. - - “I was at Blackheath t’other morning, where I was grieved. - There are eleven Vander Werffs that cost an immense sum: half - of them are spoiled since Sir Gregory Page’s death by servants - neglecting to shut out the sun. There is another room hung - with the history of Cupid and Psyche, in twelve small pictures - by Luca Giordano, that are sweet. There is, too, a glorious - Claude, some fine Teniers, a noble Rubens and Snyders, two - beautiful Philippo Lauras, and a few more,--and several very - bad. The house is magnificent, but wounded me; it was built on - the model of Houghton, except that three rooms are thrown into - a gallery. - - “Now I have tapped the chapter of pictures, you must go and see - Zoffani’s ‘Tribune at Florence,’ which is an astonishing piece - of work, with a vast deal of merit. - - “There too you will see a delightful piece of Wilkes - looking--no, squinting tenderly at his daughter. It is a - caricature of the Devil acknowledging Miss Sin in Milton. I do - not know why, but they are under a palm-tree, which has not - grown in a free country for some centuries. - - “15th. - - “With all my pretences, there is no more veracity in me than - in a Scotch runner for the Ministry. Here must I send away my - letter without a word in it worth a straw. All the good news - I know is, that a winter is come in that will send armies and - navies to bed, and one may stir out in November without fear - of being tanned. I am heartily glad that we shall keep Jamaica - and the East Indies another year, that one may have time to - lay in a stock of tea and sugar for the rest of one’s days. I - think only of the necessaries of life, and do not care a rush - for gold and diamonds, and the pleasure of stealing logwood. - The friends of Government, who have thought of nothing but - of reducing us to our islandhood, and bringing us back to - the simplicity of ancient times, when we were the frugal, - temperate, virtuous old English, ask how we did before tea and - sugar were known. Better, no doubt; but as I did not happen - to be born two or three hundred years ago, I cannot recollect - precisely whether diluted acorns, and barley bread spread with - honey, made a very luxurious breakfast. - - “I was last night at Lady Lucan’s to hear the Misses Bingham - sing Jomelli’s ‘Miserere,’ set for two voices. There were only - the Duchess of Bedford, Lady Bute … and half a dozen Irish.… - The Duchess told me, that a habit-maker returned from Ampthill - is gone stark in love with Lady Ossory, on fitting her with the - new dress--I think they call it a Levite--and says he never - saw so glorious a figure. I know that; and so you would be in - a hop-sack, Madam--but where is the grace in a man’s nightgown - bound round with a belt? - - “Good-night, Lady! I hope I shall have something to tell you in - my next, that my letter may be shorter. - - “Codicil to my to-day’s:--viz. Nov. 15, 1779. - - “I enclosed the above to Lord Ossory, because it was not - worth sixpence, and had sent it to the post, and then went - to Bedford House, where, lo! enters Lady Shelburne, looking - as fresh and ripe as Pomona. N.B. Her windows were not open - yesterday, and to-day there was such a mist, ermined with snow, - that I could not see. I find it was not a habit-maker that was - smitten with your Ladyship as a pig in a poke, but somebody - else; but as her Grace’s mouth has lost one tooth, and my ear, - I suspect, another, I have not found out who the unfortunate - man is. - - “Next enters your Ladyship’s letter. I have seen my dignity - of Minister to Spain[78]--many a fair castle have I erected - in that country, but truly never resided there.… This is long - enough for a codicil, in which one has nothing more to give.” - -In the same lively mood, he writes about the same time to Mason: - - “Berkeley Square, Nov. I don’t know what day. - - “If you can be content with anything but news as fresh as - mackerel, I will tell you as pretty a story as a gentleman can - hear in a winter’s day, though it has not a grain of novelty - in it but to those who never heard it, which was my case till - yesterday. - - “When that philosophic tyrant the Czarina (who murdered two - emperors for the good of their people, to the edification of - Voltaire, Diderot, and D’Alembert) proposed to give a code of - laws that should serve all her subjects as much or as little as - she pleased, she ordered her various states to send deputies - who should specify their respective wants. Amongst the rest - came a representative of the Samoieds; he waited on the marshal - of the diet of legislation, who was Archbishop of Novgorod. - ‘I am come,’ said the savage, ‘but I do not know for what.’ - ‘My clement mistress,’ said his Grace, ‘means to give a body - of laws to all her dominions.’--‘Whatever laws the Empress - shall give us,’ said the Samoied, ‘we shall obey, but we want - no laws.’--‘How,’ said the Prelate, ‘not want laws! why, you - are men like the rest of the world, and must have the same - passions, and consequently must murder, cheat, steal, rob, - plunder,’ &c., &c., &c. - - “‘It is true,’ said the savage, ‘we have now and then a bad - person among us, but he is sufficiently punished by being shut - out of all society.’ - - “If you love nature in its _naturalibus_, you will like this - tale. I think one might make a pretty ‘Spectator’ by inverting - the hint: I would propose a general jail delivery, not only - from all prisons, but madhouses, as not sufficiently ample for - a quarter of the patients and candidates; and to save trouble, - and yet make as impartial distinction, to confine the virtuous - and the few that are in their senses. But I am digressing, and - have not yet told you the story I intended; at least, only the - first part. - - “One day Count Orlow, the Czarina’s accomplice in more ways - than one, exhibited himself to the Samoied in the robes of the - order, and refulgent with diamonds. The savage surveyed him - attentively, but silently. ‘May I ask,’ said the favourite, - ‘what it is you admire?’--‘Nothing,’ replied the Tartar: ‘I was - thinking how ridiculous you are.’--‘Ridiculous,’ cried Orlow, - angrily; ‘and pray in what?’--‘Why, you shave your beard to - look young, and powder your hair to look old!’ - - “Well! as you like my stories, I will tell you a third, but - it is prodigiously old, yet it is the only new trait that I - have found in that ocean _Bibliothèque des Romans_, which I - had almost abandoned; for I am out of patience with novels and - sermons, that have nothing new, when the authors may say what - they will without contradiction. - - “My history is a romance of the Amours of Eleanor of Aquitaine, - Queen of our Henry the Second. She is in love with somebody - who is in love with somebody else. She puts both in prison. - The Count falls dangerously ill, and sends for the Queen’s - Physician. Eleanor hears it, calls for the Physician, and - gives him a bowl, which she orders him to prescribe to - the Count. The Doctor hesitates, doubts, begs to know the - ingredients.--‘Come,’ says her Majesty, ‘your suspicions are - just--it is poison; but remember, it is a crime I want from - you, not a lecture; go and obey my orders; my Captain of the - guard and two soldiers shall accompany you, and see that you - execute my command, and give no hint of my secret; go, I will - have no reply:’ the Physician submits, finds the prisoner in - bed, his mistress sitting by. The Doctor feels his pulse, - produces the bowl, sighs, and says, ‘My dear friend, I cannot - cure your disorder, but I have a remedy here for myself,’ and - swallows the poison. - - “Is not this entirely new? it would be a fine _coup de - théâtre_, and yet would not do for a tragedy, for the Physician - would become the hero of the piece, would efface the lovers; - and yet the rest of the play could not be made to turn on him. - - “As all this will serve for a letter at any time, I will - keep the rest of my paper for something that will not bear - postponing. - - “20th. - - “Come, my letter shall go, though with only one new paragraph. - Lord Weymouth has resigned, as well as Lord Gower. I believe - that little faction flattered themselves that their separation - would blow up Lord North, and yet I am persuaded that sheer - cowardice has most share in Weymouth’s part. There is such - universal dissatisfaction, that when the crack is begun, the - whole edifice perhaps may tumble, but where is the architect - that can repair a single story? The nation stayed till - everything was desperate, before it would allow that a single - tile was blown off.” - -At the close of the year, he is cheered by the sight of a precious -relic: - - “You are to know, Madam, that I have in my custody the - individual ebony cabinet in which Madame de Sévigné kept her - pens and paper for writing her matchless letters. It was - preserved near Grignan by an old man who mended her pens, and - whose descendant gave it last year to Mr. Selwyn, as truly - worthy of such a sacred relic. It wears, indeed, all the - outward and visible signs of such venerable preciousness, for - it is clumsy, cumbersome, and shattered, and inspires no more - idea of her spirit and _légèreté_, than the mouldy thigh-bone - of a saint does of the unction of his sermons. I have full - powers to have it repaired and decorated as shall seem good in - my own eyes, though I had rather be authorised to inclose and - conceal it in a shrine of gold and jewels.” - -[Illustration: _Sir Joshua Reynolds. Pinx._ _A. Dawson. Ph. Sc._ -_Valentine Green. Sc._ - -_The Three Ladies Waldegrave._] - -Towards the end of May, 1780, he writes: “Sir Joshua has begun a -charming picture of my three fair nieces, the Waldegraves, and very -like. They are embroidering and winding silk; I rather wished to have -them drawn like the Graces, adorning a bust of the Duchess as the Magna -Mater; but my ideas are not adopted.” We hear no more of this picture -for some time. Attention was almost immediately engrossed by the Gordon -riots. Walpole writes to Lady Ossory: - - “Berkeley Square, June 3, 1780. - - “I know that a governor or gazetteer ought not to desert their - posts, if a town is besieged, or a town is full of news; and - therefore, Madam, I resume my office. I smile to-day--but I - trembled last night; for an hour or more I never felt more - anxiety. I knew the bravest of my friends were barricaded into - the House of Commons, and every avenue to it impossible. Till - I heard the Horse and Foot Guards were gone to their rescue, - I expected nothing but some dire misfortune; and the first - thing I heard this morning was that part of the town had had - a fortunate escape from being burnt after ten last night. You - must not expect order, Madam; I must recollect circumstances as - they occur; and the best idea I can give your Ladyship of the - tumult will be to relate it as I heard it. - - “I had come to town in the morning on a private occasion, and - found it so much as I left it, that though I saw a few blue - cockades here and there, I only took them for new recruits. - Nobody came in; between seven and eight I saw a hack and - another coach arrive at Lord Shelburne’s, and thence concluded - that Lord George Gordon’s trumpet had brayed to no purpose. At - eight I went to Gloucester House; the Duchess told me, there - had been a riot, and that Lord Mansfield’s glasses had been - broken, and a bishop’s, but that most of the populace were - dispersed. About nine his Royal Highness and Colonel Heywood - arrived; and then we heard a much more alarming account. The - concourse had been incredible, and had by no means obeyed the - injunctions of their apostle, or rather had interpreted the - spirit instead of the letter. The Duke had reached the House - with the utmost difficulty, and found it sunk from the temple - of dignity to an asylum of lamentable objects. There were the - Lords Hillsborough, Stormont, Townshend, without their bags, - and with their hair dishevelled about their ears, and Lord - Willoughby without his periwig, and Lord Mansfield, whose - glasses had been broken, quivering on the woolsack like an - aspen. Lord Ashburnham had been torn out of his chariot, the - Bishop of Lincoln ill-treated, the Duke of Northumberland had - lost his watch in the holy hurly-burly, and Mr. Mackenzie his - snuff-box and spectacles. Alarm came that the mob had thrown - down Lord Boston, and were trampling him to death; which they - almost did. They had diswigged Lord Bathurst on his answering - them stoutly, and told him he was the pope, and an old woman; - thus splitting Pope Joan into two. Lord Hillsborough, on being - taxed with negligence, affirmed that the Cabinet had the day - before empowered Lord North to take precautions; but two - Justices that were called denied having received any orders. - Colonel Heywood, a very stout man, and luckily a very cool one, - told me he had thrice been collared as he went by the Duke’s - order to inquire what was doing in the other House; but though - he was not suffered to pass, he reasoned the mob into releasing - him,--yet, he said, he never saw so serious an appearance and - such determined countenances. - - “About eight the Lords adjourned, and were suffered to go - home; though the rioters declared that if the other House did - not repeal the Bill,[79] there would at night be terrible - mischief. Mr. Burke’s name had been given out as the object of - resentment. General Conway I knew would be intrepid and not - give way; nor did he, but inspired the other House with his - own resolution. Lord George Gordon was running backwards and - forwards, from the windows of the Speaker’s Chamber denouncing - all that spoke against him to the mob in the lobby. Mr. Conway - tasked him severely both in the House and aside, and Colonel - Murray told him he was a disgrace to his family. Still the - members were besieged and locked up for four hours, nor could - divide, as the lobby was crammed. Mr. Conway and Lord Frederick - Cavendish, with whom I supped afterwards, told me there was a - moment when they thought they must have opened the doors and - fought their way out sword in hand. Lord North was very firm, - and at last they got the Guards and cleared the pass. - - “Blue banners had been waved from tops of houses at Whitehall - as signals to the people, while the coaches passed, whom they - should applaud or abuse. Sir George Savile’s and Charles - Turner’s coaches were demolished. Ellis, whom they took for a - Popish gentleman, they carried prisoner to the Guildhall in - Westminster, and he escaped by a ladder out of a window. Lord - Mahon harangued the people from the balcony of a coffee-house, - and begged them to retire.” - -In a letter to Mann he continues the story: - - “This tumult, which was over between nine and ten at night, - had scarce ceased before it broke out in two other quarters. - Old Haslang’s[80] chapel was broken open and plundered; and, - as he is a Prince of Smugglers as well as Bavarian Minister, - great quantities of run tea and contraband goods were found in - his house. This one cannot lament; and still less, as the old - wretch has for these forty years usurped a hired house, and, - though the proprietor for many years has offered to remit his - arrears of rent, he will neither quit the house nor pay for it. - - “Monsieur Cordon, the Sardinian Minister, suffered still more. - The mob forced his chapel, stole two silver lamps, demolished - everything else, threw the benches into the street, set them on - fire, carried the brands into the chapel, and set fire to that; - and, when the engines came, would not suffer them to play, till - the Guards arrived, and saved the house and probably all that - part of the town. Poor Madame Cordon was confined by illness. - My cousin, Thomas Walpole, who lives in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, - went to her rescue, and dragged her, for she could scarce stand - with terror and weakness, to his own house.” - -Of the events of Black Wednesday, Horace was an eye-witness. His -letters to his Countess form a sort of journal: - - “Wednesday, five o’clock, June 7, 1780. - - “I am heartily glad I am come to town, though never was a - less delicious place; but there was no bearing to remain - philosophically in the country, and hear the thousand rumours - of every hour, and not know whether one’s friends and relations - were not destroyed. Yesterday Newgate was burnt, and other - houses, and Lord Sandwich near massacred. At Hyde Park Corner, - I saw Guards at the Lord President’s door, and in Piccadilly, - met George Selwyn and the Signorina,[81] whom I wondered he - ventured there. He came into my chaise in a fury, and told me - Lord Mansfield’s house is in ashes, and that five thousand men - were marched to Caen Wood--it is true, and that one thousand - of the Guards are gone after them. A camp of ten thousand is - forming in Hyde Park as fast as possible, and the Berkshire - militia is just arrived. Wedderburn and Lord Stormont are - threatened, and I do not know who. The Duchess of Beaufort sent - an hour ago to tell me Lord Ashburnham had just advertised her - that he is threatened, and was sending away his poor bedridden - Countess and children; and the Duchess begged to know what I - proposed to do. I immediately went to her, and quieted her, and - assured her we are as safe as we can be anywhere, and as little - obnoxious; but if she was alarmed, I advised her to remove to - Notting Hill, where Lady Mary Coke is absent. The Duchess said - the mob were now in Saville Row; we sent thither, and so they - are, round Colonel Woodford’s, who gave the Guards orders to - fire at Lord Mansfield’s, where six at least of the rioters - were killed. - - “The mob are now armed, having seized the stores in the - Artillery Ground. - - “If anything can surprise your Ladyship, it will be what I am - going to tell you. Lord George Gordon went to Buckingham House - this morning, and asked an audience of the King. Can you be - more surprised still?--He was refused. - - “I must finish, for I am going about the town to learn, and - see, and hear. Caen Wood is saved; a regiment on march met the - rioters. - - “It will probably be a black night: I am decking myself with - blue ribbons, like a May-day garland. Horsemen are riding by - with muskets. I am sorry I did not bring the armour of Francis - I. to town, as I am to guard a Duchess Dowager and an heiress. - Will it not be romantically generous if I yield the latter to - my nephew? - - “From my garrison in Berkeley Square. - - “Wednesday night, past two in the morning, June 7, 1780. - - “As it is impossible to go to bed (for Lady Betty Compton - has hoped I would not this very minute, which, next to her - asking the contrary, is the thing not to be refused), I cannot - be better employed than in proving how much I think of your - Ladyship at the most horrible moment I ever saw. You shall - judge. - - “I was at Gloucester House between nine and ten. The servants - announced a great fire; the Duchess, her daughters, and I went - to the top of the house, and beheld not only one but two vast - fires, which we took for the King’s Bench and Lambeth; but the - latter was the New Prison, and the former at least was burning - at midnight. Colonel Heywood came in and acquainted his Royal - Highness that nine houses in Great Queen Street had been - gutted, and the furniture burnt; and he had _seen_ a great - Catholic distiller’s at Holborn Bridge broken open and all the - casks staved; and since, the house had been set on fire. - - “At ten I went to Lord Hertford’s, and found him and his sons - charging muskets. Lord Rockingham has two hundred soldiers in - his house, and is determined to defend it. Thence I went to - General Conway’s, and in a moment a servant came in and said - there was a great fire just by. We went to the street-door and - thought it was St. Martin’s Lane in flames, but it is either - the Fleet Prison or the distiller’s. I forgot that in the court - of Gloucester House I met Colonel Jennings, who told me there - had been an engagement at the Royal Exchange to defend the - Bank, and that the Guards had shot sixty of the mob; I have - since heard seventy, for I forgot to tell your Ladyship that at - a _great_ council, held this evening at the Queen’s House, at - which Lord Rockingham and the Duke of Portland were present, - military execution was ordered, for, in truth, the Justices - dare not act. - - “After supper I returned to Lady Hertford, finding Charing - Cross, and the Haymarket, and Piccadilly, illuminated from - fear, though all this end of the town is hitherto perfectly - quiet, lines being drawn across the Strand and Holborn, to - prevent the mob coming westward. Henry and William Conway - arrived, and had seen the populace break open the toll-houses - on Blackfriars Bridge, and carry off bushels of halfpence, - which fell about the streets, and then they set fire to the - toll-houses. General Conway’s porter had seen five distinct - conflagrations. - - “Lady Hertford’s cook came in, white as this paper. _He is a - German Protestant._ He said his house had been attacked, his - furniture burnt; that he had saved one child, and left another - with his wife, whom he could not get out; and that not above - ten or twelve persons had assaulted his house. I could not - credit this, at least was sure it was an episode that had no - connection with the general insurrection, and was at most some - pique of his neighbours. I sent my own footman to the spot in - Woodstock Street; he brought me word there had been eight or - ten apprentices who made the riot, that two Life Guardsmen had - arrived and secured four of the enemies. It seems the cook had - refused to illuminate like the rest of the street. To-morrow - I suppose his Majesty King George Gordon will order their - release; they will be inflated with having been confessors, and - turn heroes. - - “On coming home I visited the Duchess Dowager and my fair ward; - and am heartily tired with so many expeditions, for which I - little imagined I had youth enough left. - - “We expect three or four more regiments to-morrow, besides some - troops of horse and militia already arrived. We are menaced - with counter-squadrons from the country. There will, I fear, - be much blood spilt before peace is restored. The Gordon has - already surpassed Masaniello, who I do not remember set his own - capital on fire. Yet I assure your ladyship there is no panic. - Lady Aylesbury has been at the play in the Haymarket, and the - Duke and my four nieces at Ranelagh, this evening. For my part, - I think the _common_ diversions of these last four-and-twenty - hours are sufficient to content any moderate appetite; and as - it is now three in the morning, I shall wish you good night, - and try to get a little sleep myself, if Lord George Macbeth - has not murdered it all. I own I shall not soon forget the - sight I saw from the top of Gloucester House. - - “Thursday morning, after breakfast. - - “I do not know whether to call the horrors of the night greater - or less than I thought. My printer, who has been out all - night, and on the spots of action, says, not above a dozen - were killed at the Royal Exchange, some few elsewhere; at the - King’s Bench, he does not know how many; but in other respects - the calamities are dreadful. He saw many houses set on fire, - women and children screaming, running out of doors with what - they could save, and knocking one another down with their loads - in the confusion. Barnard’s Inn is burnt, and some houses, - mistaken for Catholic. Kirgate[82] says most of the rioters - are apprentices, and plunder and drink have been their chief - objects, and both women and men are still lying dead drunk - about the streets: brandy is preferable to enthusiasm. I trust - many more troops will arrive to-day. What families ruined! What - wretched wives and mothers! What public disgrace!--ay! and - where, and when, and how will all this confusion end! and what - shall we be when it is concluded? I remember the Excise and the - Gin Act, and the rebels at Derby, and Wilkes’s interlude, and - the French at Plymouth; or I should have a very bad memory; but - I never till last night saw London and Southwark in flames! - - “After dinner. - - “It is a moment, Madam, when to be surprised is not surprising. - But what will you say to the House of Commons meeting by twelve - o’clock to-day, and adjourning, ere fifty members were arrived, - to Monday se’nnight! So adieu all government but the sword! - - “Will your Ladyship give me credit when I heap contradictions - on absurdities--will you believe such confusion and calamities, - and yet think there is no consternation? Well, only hear. My - niece, Mrs. Keppel, with her three daughters, drove since noon - over Westminster Bridge, through St. George’s Fields, where the - King’s Bench is smoking, over London Bridge, passed the Bank, - and came the whole length of the City! They have been here, and - say the people _look_ very unquiet; but can one imagine that - they would be smiling? Old Lady Albemarle, who followed me in a - few minutes from Gloucester House, was robbed at Mrs. Keppel’s - door in Pall Mall, between ten and eleven, by a horseman. - Sparrow, one of the delivered convicts, who was to have been - hanged this morning, is said to have been shot yesterday as he - was spiriting up the rioters. Kirgate has just heard in the - Park, that the Protestant Association disavow the seditious, - and will take up arms against them. If we are saved, it will be - so as by fire. - - “I shall return to my own castle to-morrow: I had not above - four hours’ sleep last night, and must get some rest. General - Conway is enraged at the adjournment, and will go away too. - Many coaches and chaises did leave London yesterday. My - intelligence will not be so good nor so immediate; but you will - not want correspondents. Disturbances are threatened again for - to-night; and some probably will happen, but there are more - troops, and less alacrity in the outlaws. - - “Berkeley Square, June 9, at noon, 1780. - - “All has been quiet to-night, as far as we know in this region; - but not without blood being spilt yesterday. The rioters - attacked the Horse Guards about six in Fleet Street, and, not - giving them time to load, were repelled by the bayonet. Twenty - fell, thirty-five were wounded and sent to the hospital, where - two died directly. Three of the Guards were wounded, and a - young officer named Marjoribank. Mr. Conway’s footman told me - he was on a message at Lord Amherst’s when the Guards returned, - and that their bayonets were steeped in blood. - - “I heard, too, at my neighbour Duchess’s, whither I went at - one in the morning, that the Protestant Associators, disguised - with blue cockades as friends, had fallen on the rioters in - St. George’s Fields, and killed many. I do not warrant the - truth, but I did hear often in the evening that there had - been slaughter in the Borough, where a great public-house - had been destroyed, and a house at Redriffe, and another at - Islington. Zeal has entirely thrown off the mask, and owned its - name--plunder. Its offspring have extorted money from several - houses with threats of firing them as Catholic. Apprentices and - Irish chairmen, and all kinds of outlaws, have been the most - active. Some hundreds are actually dead about the streets, with - the spirits they plundered at the distiller’s; the low women - knelt and sucked them as they ran from the staved casks. - - “It was reported last night that the primate, George Gordon, - is fled to Scotland: for aught I know he may not be so far off - as Grosvenor Place. All is rumour and exaggeration; and yet - it would be difficult to exaggerate the horrors of Wednesday - night; a town taken by storm could alone exceed them. - - “I am going to Strawberry this instant, exhausted with fatigue, - for I have certainly been on my feet longer these last - eight-and-forty hours than in forty days before.… - - “Adieu! Madam; allow my pen a few holidays, unless the storm - recommences.” - -On hearing that Lord George Gordon had been arrested, he writes again: - - “Strawberry Hill, Saturday night, late. - - “Was not I cruelly out of luck, Madam, to have been fishing in - troubled waters for two days for your Ladyship’s entertainment, - and to have come away very few hours before the great pike was - hooked? Well, to drop metaphor, here are Garth’s lines reversed, - - ‘Thus little villains oft submit to fate, - That great ones may enjoy the world in state.’ - - Four convicts on the eve of execution are let loose from - Newgate, and Lord George Gordon is sent to the Tower. If he - is hanged, the old couplet will recover its credit, for Mr. - Wedderburn is Chief Justice. - - “I flatter myself I shall receive a line from your Ladyship - to-morrow morning: I am impatient to hear what you think of - _black Wednesday_. I know how much you must have been shocked, - but I long to read your own expressions; when you answer, then - one is conversing. My sensations are very different from what - they were. While in the thick of the conflagration, I was all - indignation and a thousand passions. Last night, when sitting - silently alone, horror rose as I cooled; and grief succeeded, - and then all kinds of gloomy presages. For some time people - have said, where will all this end? I as often replied, where - will it begin? It is now begun, with a dreadful overture; and - I tremble to think what the chorus may be! The sword reigns - at present, and saved the capital! What is to depose the - sword?--Is it not to be feared, on the other hand, that other - swords may be lifted up?--What probability that everything will - subside quietly into the natural channel?--Nay, how narrow will - that channel be, whenever the prospect is cleared by peace? - What a dismal fragment of an empire! yet would that moment were - come when we are to take a survey of our ruins! That moment - I probably shall not see. When I rose this morning, I found - the exertions I had made with such puny powers, had been far - beyond what I could bear; I was too sick to go on with dressing - myself. This evening I have been abroad, and you shall hear - no more of it. I have been with Lady Di, at Richmond, where - I found Lady Pembroke, Miss Herbert, and Mr. Brudenell. Lord - Herbert is arrived. They told me the melancholy position of - Lady Westmorland. She is sister of Lord George Gordon, and - wife of Colonel Woodford, who is forced to conceal himself, - having been the first officer who gave orders to the soldiers - to fire, on the attack of Lord Mansfield’s house. How many - still more deplorable calamities from the tragedy of this week - that one shall never hear of! I will change my style, and, like - an epilogue after a moving piece, divert you with a _bon-mot_ - of George Selwyn. He came to me yesterday morning from Lady - Townshend, who, terrified by the fires of the preceding night, - talked the language of the Court, instead of Opposition. He - said she put him in mind of removed tradesmen, who hang out a - board with, ‘Burnt out from over the way.’ Good-night, Madam, - till I receive your letter. - - “Monday morning, the 12th. - - “Disappointed! disappointed! not a line from your Ladyship; - I will not send away this till I hear from you. Last night, - at Hampton Court, I heard of two Popish chapels demolished - at Bath, and one at Bristol. My coachman has just been in - Twickenham, and says half Bath is burnt; I trust this is but - the natural progress of lies, that increase like a chairman’s - legs by walking. Mercy on us! we seem to be plunging into - the horrors of France, in the reigns of Charles VI. and - VII.!--yet, as extremes meet, there is at this moment amazing - insensibility. Within these four days I have received five - applications for tickets to see my house! One from a set of - company who fled from town to avoid the tumults and fires. I - suppose Æneas lost Creüsa by her stopping at Sadlers’ Wells. - - “13th. - - “The letter I have this moment received is so kind, Madam, - that it effaces all disappointment. Indeed, my impatience made - me forget that no post comes in here on Mondays. To-day’s - letters from town mention no disturbance at Bristol or anywhere - else. Every day gained is considerable, at least will be so - when there has been time for the history of last week to have - spread, and intelligence from the distant counties to be - returned. All I have heard to-day is of some alteration to be - made to the Riot Act, that Lord George cannot be tried this - month, and that the King will go to the House on Monday. I will - now answer what is necessary in your Ladyship’s and take my - leave, for, as you observe, the post arrives late, and I have - other letters that I must answer. Mr. Williams interrupted me, - and has added a curious anecdote,--and a horrible one, to my - collection of the late events. One project of the diabolical - incendiaries was to let loose the lions in the Tower, and the - lunatics in Bedlam. The latter might be from a fellow-feeling - in Lord George, but cannibals do not invite wild beasts to - their banquets. The Princess Daskiou will certainly communicate - the thought to her mistress and accomplice, the Legislatress of - Russia. - - “P.S. I like an ironic sentence in yesterday’s _London - Courant_, which says, all our grievances are _red-dressed_.” - -To complete the misfortunes of these years, Walpole lost his “blind old -woman” in the autumn of 1780. Under date October 9th, he writes from -Strawberry Hill to Mann: - - “I have heard from Paris of the death of my dear old friend - Madame du Deffand, whom I went so often thither to see. It - was not quite unexpected, and was softened by her great age, - eighty-four, which forbad distant hopes; and, by what I dreaded - more than her death, her increasing deafness, which, had it - become, like her blindness, total, would have been living after - death. Her memory only _began_ to impair; her amazing sense and - quickness, not at all. I have written to her once a week for - these last fifteen years, as correspondence and conversation - could be her only pleasures. You see that I am the most - faithful letter-writer in the world--and, alas! never see those - I am so constant to! One is forbidden common-place reflections - on these misfortunes, because they _are_ common-place; but is - not that, because they are natural? But your never having known - that dear old woman is a better reason for not making you the - butt of my concern.” - -Three weeks later we have the following from London to Lady Ossory: - - “As I have been returned above a fortnight, I should have - written had I had a syllable to tell you; but what could I tell - you from that melancholy and very small circle at Twickenham - Park, almost the only place I do go to in the country, - partly out of charity, and partly as I have scarce any other - society left which I prefer to it; for, without entering - on too melancholy a detail, recollect, Madam, that I have - outlived most of those to whom I was habituated, Lady Hervey, - Lady Suffolk, Lady Blandford--my dear old friend [Madame du - Deffand], I should probably never have seen again--yet that - is a deeper loss, indeed! She has left me all her MSS.--a - compact between us--in one word I had, at her earnest request, - consented to accept them, on condition she should leave me - nothing else. She had, indeed, intended to leave me her little - all, but I declared I would never set foot in Paris again - (this was ten years ago) if she did not engage to retract that - destination. To satisfy her, I at last agreed to accept her - papers, and one thin gold box with the portrait of her dog. I - have written to beg her dog itself, which is so cross, that I - am sure nobody else would treat it well; and I have ordered - her own servant, who read all letters to her, to pick out all - the letters of living persons, and restore them to the several - writers without my seeing them.” - -Walpole’s liking for accomplished French women like Madame du Deffand -was equalled by his dislike of the English “Blue-stockings.” At the -beginning of 1781, he seems to have been a good deal in company with -the latter, and we have some amusing passages: “I met Mrs. Montagu -t’other night at a visit. She said she had been alone the whole -preceding day, _quite hermetically sealed_--I was very glad she was -uncorked, or I might have missed that piece of learned nonsense.… I was -much diverted with your setting Mrs. Montagu on her head, which indeed -she does herself without the help of Hermes. She is one of my principal -entertainments at Mrs. Vesey’s, who collects all the graduates and -candidates for fame, where they vie with one another, till they are as -unintelligible as the good folks at Babel.” - - “Mr. Gilpin[83] talks of my researches, which makes me smile; I - know, as Gray would have said, how little I have _researched_, - and what slender pretensions are mine to so pompous a term. - Apropos to Gray, Johnson’s ‘Life,’ or rather criticism on his - Odes, is come out; a most wretched, dull, tasteless, _verbal_ - criticism--yet, timid too. But he makes amends, he admires - Thomson and Akenside, and Sir Richard Blackmore, and has - reprinted Dennis’s ‘Criticism on Cato,’ to save time, and swell - his pay. In short, as usual, he has proved that he has no more - ear than taste. Mrs. Montagu and all her Mænades intend to tear - him limb from limb for despising their moppet Lord Lyttelton.” - - * * * * * - - “I saw Dr. Johnson last night at Lady Lucan’s, who had - assembled a _blue-stocking_ meeting in imitation of Mrs. - Vesey’s Babels. It was so blue, it was quite Mazarine-blue. - Mrs. Montagu kept aloof from Johnson, like the West from the - East. There were Soame Jenyns, _Persian_ Jones, Mr. Sherlocke, - the new court with Mr. Courtenay, besides the out-pensioners of - Parnassus. Mr. Wraxall[84] was not, I wonder why, and so will - he, for he is popping into every spot where he can make himself - talked of, by talking of himself; but I hear he will come to an - untimely beginning in the House of Commons.” - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - Walpole in his Sixty-fourth Year.--The Royal - Academy.--Tonton.--Charles Fox.--William Pitt.--Mrs. Hobart’s - _Sans Souci_.--Improvements at Florence.--Walpole’s Dancing - Feats.--No Feathers at Court.--Highwaymen.--Loss of the _Royal - George_.--Mrs. Siddons.--Peace.--Its Social Consequences.--The - Coalition.--The Rivals.--Political Excitement.--The Westminster - Election.--Political Caricatures.--Conway’s Retirement.--Lady - Harrington.--Balloons.--Illness.--Recovery. - - -“I never remonstrate against the behests of Dame Prudence, though a -lady I never got acquainted with till near my grand climacteric.” -So wrote Horace soon after passing the mystic period, compounded of -seven and nine, which was once regarded as the topmost round in the -ladder of human life. He would have his correspondents believe that -his attention to the dame’s commands was not very regular at first. -In the spring of 1781, he is able to report to Conway, “My health is -most flourishing for me.” Accordingly, he goes about a good deal, and -enjoys a sort of rejuvenescence. Of course, he visits the Exhibition of -the Royal Academy at Somerset House, where Reynolds’s picture of the -Ladies Waldegrave was shown. “The Exhibition,” he writes to Mason, “is -much inferior to last year’s;[85] nobody shines there but Sir Joshua -and Gainsborough. The head of the former’s Dido is very fine; I do -not admire the rest of the piece. His Lord Richard Cavendish is bold -and stronger than he ever coloured. The picture of my three nieces is -charming. Gainsborough has two pieces with land and sea, so free and -natural that one steps back for fear of being splashed. The back front -of the Academy is handsome, but like the other to the street, the -members are so heavy, that one cannot stand back enough to see it in -any proportion, unless in a barge moored in the middle of the Thames.” -The same day, May 6, he writes to Conway from Strawberry Hill: - - “Though it is a bitter north-east, I came hither to-day to look - at my lilacs, though _à la glace_; and to get from pharaoh, - for which there is a rage. I doated on it above thirty years - ago; but it is not decent to sit up all night now with boys and - girls. My nephew, Lord Cholmondeley, the banker _à la mode_, - has been demolished. He and his associate, Sir Willoughby - Aston, went early t’other night to Brooks’s, before Charles Fox - and Fitzpatrick, who keep a bank there, were come; but they - soon arrived, attacked their rivals, broke their bank, and - won above four thousand pounds. ‘There,’ said Fox, ‘so should - all usurpers be served!’ He did still better; for he sent for - his tradesmen, and paid as far as the money would go. In the - mornings he continues his war on Lord North, but cannot break - _that_ bank.… - - “I told you in my last that Tonton was arrived. I brought him - this morning to take possession of his new villa, but his - inauguration has not been at all pacific. As he has already - found out that he may be as despotic as at St. Joseph’s, - he began with exiling my beautiful little cat; upon which, - however, we shall not quite agree. He then flew at one of my - dogs, who returned it by biting his foot till it bled, but was - severely beaten for it. I immediately rung for Margaret to - dress his foot; but in the midst of my tribulation could not - keep my countenance; for she cried, ‘Poor little thing, he does - not understand my language!’ I hope she will not recollect, - too, that he is a Papist!” - -[Illustration: _Sir Joshua Reynolds. Pinx._ _A. Dawson. Ph. Sc._ _S. W. -Reynolds. Sc._ - -_Sir Joshua Reynolds._] - -We have a further anecdote of Charles Fox told a few days later, also -in a letter to Conway: - - “I had been to see if Lady Aylesbury was come to town: as - I came up St. James’s Street, I saw a cart and porters at - Charles’s door; coppers and old chests of drawers loading. In - short, his success at faro has awakened his host of creditors; - but unless his bank has swelled to the size of the Bank of - England, it could not have yielded a sop apiece for each. - Epsom, too, had been unpropitious; and one creditor has - actually seized and carried off his goods, which did not seem - worth removing. As I returned full of this scene, whom should - I find sauntering by my own door but Charles? He came up, and - talked to me at the coach-window on the Marriage Bill,[86] - with as much _sang-froid_ as if he knew nothing of what had - happened. I have no admiration for insensibility to one’s own - faults, especially when committed out of vanity. Perhaps the - whole philosophy consisted in the commission. If _you_ could - have been as much to blame, the last thing you would bear well - would be your own reflections. The more marvellous Fox’s parts - are, the more one is provoked at his follies, which comfort so - many rascals and blockheads, and make all that is admirable and - amiable in him only matter of regret to those who like him as I - do.[87] - - “I did intend to settle at Strawberry on Sunday; but must - return on Thursday, for a party made at Marlborough House for - Princess Amelia. I am continually tempted to retire entirely; - and should, if I did not see how very unfit English tempers are - for living quite out of the world. We grow abominably peevish - and severe on others, if we are not constantly rubbed against - and polished by them. I need not name friends and relations of - yours and mine as instances. My prophecy on the short reign - of faro is verified already. The bankers find that all the - calculated advantages of the game do not balance pinchbeck - _parolis_ and debts of honourable women. The bankers, I think, - might have had a previous and more generous reason, the very - bad air of holding a bank:--but this country is as hardened - against the _petite morale_, as against the greater.--What - should I think of the world if I quitted it entirely?” - -Again a few days, and we come upon an early mention of the youthful -William Pitt: “The young William Pitt has again displayed paternal -oratory. The other day, on the Commission of Accounts, he answered Lord -North, and tore him limb from limb. If Charles Fox could feel, one -should think such a rival, with an unspotted character, would rouse -him. What if a Pitt and Fox should again be rivals!” Some time later, -Walpole asks Lady Ossory: “Apropos of _bon-mots_, has our lord told -you that George Selwyn calls Mr. Fox and Mr. Pitt ‘the idle and the -industrious apprentices’? If he has not, I am sure you will thank me, -Madam.” - -In the summer of 1781, Horace has a touch of rheumatism, but still he -keeps up his juvenile tone. Witness the two following letters to Lady -Ossory: - - “Strawberry Hill, July 7, 1781. - - “You must be, or will be, tired of my letters, Madam; every one - is a contradiction to the last; there is alternately a layer of - complaints, and a layer of foolish spirits. To-day the wind is - again in the dolorous corner. For these four days I have been - confined with a pain and swelling in my face. The apothecary - says it is owing to the long drought; but as I should not eat - grass were there ever such plenty, and as my cows, though - starving, have no swelled cheeks, I do not believe him. I - humbly attribute my frequent disorders to my longevity, and to - that Proteus the gout, who is not the less himself for being - incog. Excuses I have worn out, and, therefore, will not make - any for not obeying your kind invitation again to Ampthill. I - can only say, I go nowhere, even when Tonton is invited--except - to balls--and yet though I am the last Vestris that has - appeared, Mrs. Hobart did not invite me to her _Sans Souci_ - last week, though she had all my other juvenile contemporaries, - Lady Berkeley, Lady Fitzroy, Lady Margaret Compton, and Mrs. - French, etc. Perhaps you do not know that the lady of the - _fête_, having made as many conquests as the King of Prussia, - has borrowed the name of that hero’s villa for her hut on Ham - Common, where she has built two large rooms of timber under a - cabbage. Her field officers, General French, General Compton, - etc., were sweltered in the ball-room, and then frozen at - supper in tents on the grass. She herself, as intrepid as King - Frederic, led the ball, though dying of the toothache, which - she had endeavoured to drown in laudanum; but she has kept her - bed ever since the campaign ended. - - “This is all I know in the world, for the war seems to have - taken laudanum too, and to keep its bed. - - “I have received a letter to-day from Sir Horace Mann, who - tells me the Great-Duke has been making _wondrous improvements_ - at Florence. He has made a passage through the Tribune, and - built a brave new French room of stucco in white and gold, - and placed the Niobe in it; but as everybody is tired of her - telling her old story, she and all the Master and Miss Niobes - are orderly disposed round the chamber, and if anybody asks - who they are, I suppose they answer, Francis Charles Ferdinand - Ignatius Neopomucenus, or Maria Theresa Christina Beatrice, - etc. Well, Madam, have I any cause to sigh that the pictures at - Houghton are transported to the North Pole, if the Tribune at - Florence is demolished by Vandals, and Niobe and her progeny - dance a _cotillon_? O sublunary grandeur, short-lived as a - butterfly! We smile at a clown who graves the initials of his - name, or the shape of his shoe, on the leads of a church, in - hopes of being remembered, and yet he is as much known as king - I don’t know whom, who built the Pyramids to eternise his - memory. Methinks Anacreon was the only sensible philosopher. - If I loved wine, and should look well in a chaplet of roses, - I would crown myself with flowers, and go tipsy to bed every - night _sans souci_. - - “July 25, 1781. - - “Poor human nature, what a contradiction it is! to-day it is - all rheumatism and morality, and sits with a death’s head - before it: to-morrow it is dancing!--Oh! my Lady, my Lady, - what will you say, when the next thing you hear of me after - my last letter is, that I have danced three country-dances - with a whole set, forty years younger than myself! Shall not - you think I have been chopped to shreds and boiled in Medea’s - kettle? Shall not you expect to see a print of Vestris teaching - me?--and Lord Brudenell dying with envy? You may stare with all - your expressive eyes, yet the fact is true. Danced--I do not - absolutely say, _danced_--but I swam down three dances very - gracefully, with the air that was so much in fashion after - the battle of Oudenarde, and that was still taught when I was - fifteen, and that I remember General Churchill practising - before a glass in a gouty shoe. - - “To be sure you die with impatience to know the particulars. - You must know then--for all my revels must out--I not only - went five miles to Lady Aylesford’s ball last Friday, but my - nieces, the Waldegraves, desired me there to let them come to - me for a few days, as they had been disappointed about a visit - they were to make at another place; but that is neither here - nor there. Well, here they are, and last night we went to Lady - Hertford at Ditton. Soon after, Lady North and her daughters - arrived, and besides Lady Elizabeth and Lady Bell Conways, - there were their brothers Hugh and George. All the _jeunesse_ - strolled about the garden. We ancients, with the Earl and - Colonel Keene, retired from the dew into the drawing-room. Soon - after, the two youths and seven nymphs came in, and shut the - door of the hall. In a moment, we heard a burst of laughter, - and thought we distinguished something like the scraping of a - fiddle. My curiosity was raised, I opened the door, and found - four couples and a half standing up, and a miserable violin - from the ale-house. ‘Oh,’ said I, ‘Lady Bell shall not want a - partner;’ I threw away my stick, and _me voilà dansant comme un - charme_! At the end of the third dance, Lord North and his son, - in boots, arrived. ‘Come,’ said I, ‘my Lord, you may dance, if - I have’--but it ended in my _resigning my place_ to his son. - - “Lady North has invited us for to-morrow, and I shall reserve - the rest of my letter for the second volume of my regeneration; - however, I declare I will not _dance_. I will not make myself - too cheap; I should have the Prince of Wales sending for me - three or four times a week to hops in Eastcheap. As it is, I - feel I shall have some difficulty to return to my old dowagers, - at the Duchess of Montrose’s, and shall be humming the - Hempdressers, when they are scolding me for playing in flush. - - “Friday, the 27th. - - “I am not only a prophet, but have more command of my passions - than such impetuous gentry as prophets are apt to have. We - found the fiddles as I foretold; and yet I kept my resolution - and did _not_ dance, though the Sirens invited me, and though - it would have shocked the dignity of old Tiffany Ellis, who - would have thought it an indecorum. The two younger Norths and - Sir Ralph Payne supplied my place. I played at cribbage with - the matrons, and we came away at midnight. So if I now and then - do cut a colt’s tooth, I have it drawn immediately. I do not - know a paragraph of news--the nearer the minister, the farther - from politics. - - “P.S. My next jubilee dancing shall be with Lady Gertrude.” - -Not long after the date of these letters, Mann sends news of further -improvements at Florence. Walpole answers: - - “The decree[88] you sent me against high heads diverted me. - It is as necessary here, but would not have such expeditious - effect. The Queen has never admitted feathers at Court; but, - though the nation has grown excellent courtiers, Fashion - remained in opposition, and not a plume less was worn anywhere - else. Some centuries ago, the Clergy preached against monstrous - head-dresses; but Religion had no more power than our Queen. It - is better to leave the Mode to its own vagaries; if she is not - contradicted, she seldom remains long in the same mood. She is - very despotic; but, though her reign is endless, her laws are - repealed as fast as made.” - -The frequency of highway robberies only a century ago sounds surprising -to the present generation. Horace recounts to Lady Ossory an adventure -of this kind which befell him and his friend and neighbour, Lady -Browne, in the autumn of this jovial 1781: - - “The night I had the honour of writing to your Ladyship last, I - was robbed--and, as if I were a sovereign or a nation, have had - a discussion ever since whether it was not a _neighbour_ who - robbed me--and should it come to the ears of the newspapers, it - might produce as ingenious a controversy amongst our anonymous - wits as any of the noble topics I have been mentioning. - _Voici le fait._ Lady Browne and I were, as usual, going to - the Duchess of Montrose at seven o’clock. The evening was - very dark. In the close lane under her park-pale, and within - twenty yards of the gate, a black figure on horseback pushed - by between the chaise and the hedge on my side. I suspected - it was a highwayman, and so I found did Lady Browne, for she - was speaking and stopped. To divert her fears, I was just - going to say, Is not that the apothecary going to the Duchess? - when I heard a voice cry ‘Stop!’ and the figure came back to - the chaise. I had the presence of mind, before I let down the - glass, to take out my watch and stuff it within my waistcoat - under my arm. He said, ‘Your purses and watches!’ I replied, - ‘I have no watch.’ ‘Then your purse!’ I gave it to him; it - had nine guineas. It was so dark that I could not see his - hand, but felt him take it. He then asked for Lady Browne’s - purse, and said, ‘Don’t be frightened; I will not hurt you.’ - I said, ‘No; you won’t frighten the lady?’ He replied, ‘No; I - give you my word I will do you no hurt.’ Lady Browne gave him - her purse, and was going to add her watch, but he said, ‘I am - much obliged to you! I wish you good-night!’ pulled off his - hat, and rode away. ‘Well,’ said I, ‘Lady Browne, you will - not be afraid of being robbed another time, for you see there - is nothing in it.’ ‘Oh! but I am,’ said she, ‘and now I am in - terrors lest he should return, for I have given him a purse - with only bad money that I carry on purpose.’ ‘He certainly - will not open it directly,’ said I, ‘and at worst he can only - wait for us at our return; but I will send my servant back for - a horse and a blunderbuss,’ which I did. The next distress was - not to terrify the Duchess, who is so paralytic and nervous. I - therefore made Lady Browne go into the parlour, and desired one - of the Duchess’s servants to get her a glass of water, while I - went into the drawing-room to break it to the Duchess. ‘Well,’ - said I, laughing to her and the rest of the company, ‘you won’t - get much from us to-night.’ ‘Why,’ said one of them, ‘have you - been robbed?’ ‘Yes, a little,’ said I. The Duchess trembled; - but it went off. Her groom of the chambers said not a word, but - slipped out, and Lady Margaret and Miss Howe having servants - there on horseback, he gave them pistols and despatched them - different ways. This was exceedingly clever, for he knew the - Duchess would not have suffered it, as lately he had detected - a man who had robbed her garden, and she would not allow him - to take up the fellow. These servants spread the story, and - when my footman arrived on foot, he was stopped in the street - by the ostler of the ‘George,’ who told him the highwayman’s - horse was then in the stable; but this part I must reserve - for the second volume, for I have made this no story so long - and so tedious that your Ladyship will not be able to read - it in a breath; and the second part is so much longer and so - much less, contains so many examinations of witnesses, so many - contradictions in the depositions, which I have taken myself, - and, I must confess, with such abilities and shrewdness that - I have found out nothing at all, that I think to defer the - prosecution of my narrative till all the other inquisitions on - the anvil are liquidated, lest your Ladyship’s head, strong as - it is, should be confounded, and you should imagine that Rodney - or Ferguson was the person who robbed us in Twickenham Lane. I - would not have detailed the story at all, if you were not in a - forest, where it will serve to put you to sleep as well as a - newspaper full of lies; and I am sure there is as much dignity - in it as in the combined fleet, and ours, popping in and out - alternately, like a man and woman in a weather-house.” - -A few months later he writes to his Countess: - - “Strawberry Hill, Aug. 31, 1782. - - “It is very strange indeed, Madam, that you should make me - excuses for writing, or think that I have anything better, or - even more urgent, to do than to read your letters. It is very - true that the Duchess de la Vallière, in a hand which I could - not decypher, has recommended Count Soltikoff and his wife to - me: but, oh! my shame, I have not yet seen them. I did mean to - go to town to-day on purpose, but I have had the gout in my - right eyelid, and it was swelled yesterday as big as a walnut; - being now shrunk to less than a pistachio, I propose in two - or three days to make my appearance. Luckily the Countess was - born in England, the daughter of the former Czernichew, and she - is in such terrors of highwaymen, that I shall be quit for a - breakfast; so it is an ill highwayman that blows nobody good. - In truth, it would be impossible, in this region, to amass a - set of company for dinner to meet them. The Hertfords, Lady - Holdernesse, and Lady Mary Coke did dine here on Thursday, but - were armed as if going to Gibraltar; and Lady Cecilia Johnston - would not venture even from Petersham--for in the town of - Richmond they rob even before dusk--to such perfection are all - the arts brought! Who would have thought that the war with - America would make it impossible to stir from one village to - another? yet so it literally is. The Colonies took off all our - commodities down to highwaymen. Now being forced to mew, and - then turn them out, like pheasants, the roads are stocked with - them, and they are so tame that they even come into houses. - - “I have just been reading a most entertaining book, which I - will recommend to you, as you are grown antiquaries: I don’t - know whether it is published yet, for the author sent it to me. - Part was published some time ago in the ‘Archæologia,’ and is - almost the only paper in that mass of rubbish that has a grain - of common sense. It is ‘Mr. E. King on ancient Castles.’ You - will see how comfortably and delectably our potent ancestors - lived, when in the constant state of war to which we are - coming. Earls, barons, and their fair helpmates lived pell-mell - in dark dungeons with their own soldiers, as the poorest - cottagers do now with their pigs. I shall repent decking - Strawberry so much, if I must turn it into a garrison. - - “Mr. Vernon was your Ladyship’s informant about the Soltikoffs; - but he gave me more credit for my intended civilities than - I deserved. The French do not conceive, when they address - strangers to us, that we do not at all live in their style. - It is no trouble to them, who have miscellaneous dinners or - suppers, to ask one or two more; nor are they at any expense - in language, as everybody speaks French. In the private way - in which I live, it is troublesome to give a formal dinner to - foreigners, and more so to find company for them in a circle - of dowagers, who would only jabber English scandal out of the - _Morning Post_.… - - “Just this moment I hear the shocking loss of the _Royal - George_! Admiral Kempenfelt is a loss indeed; but I confess I - feel more for the hundreds of poor babes who have lost their - parents! If one grows ever so indifferent, some new calamity - calls one back to this deplorable war! If one is willing to - content one’s self, in a soaking autumn, with a match broken, - or with the death of a Prince Duodecimus, a clap of thunder - awakens one, and one hears that Britain herself has lost an arm - or a leg. I have been expecting a deluge, and a famine, and - such casualties as enrich a Sir Richard Baker; but we have all - King David’s options at once! and what was his option before he - was anointed, freebooting too? - - “Drowned as we are, the country never was in such beauty; the - herbage and leafage are luxurious. The Thames gives itself - Rhone airs, and almost foams; it is none of your home-brewed - rivers that Mr. Brown makes with a spade and a watering-pot. - Apropos, Mr. Duane,[89] like a good housewife, in the middle - of his grass-plot, has planted a pump and a watering-trough - for his cow, and I suppose on Saturdays dries his towels and - neckcloths on his orange-trees; but I must have done, or the - post will be gone.” - -At the end of 1782, Mrs. Siddons was the talk of the town. Prejudiced -as Walpole was apt to be in his judgments of actors, as of authors, his -impressions of this famous actress will be read with interest: - - “I have been for two days in town, and seen Mrs. Siddons. She - pleased me beyond my expectation, but not up to the admiration - of the _ton_, two or three of whom were in the same box with - me.… Mr. Crawford asked me if I did not think her the best - actress I ever saw? I said, ‘By no means; we old folks were - apt to be prejudiced in favour of our first impressions.’ She - is a good figure, handsome enough, though neither nose nor chin - according to the Greek standard, beyond which both advance a - good deal. Her hair is either red, or she has no objection to - its being thought so, and had used red powder. Her voice is - clear and good; but I thought she did not vary its modulations - enough, nor ever approach enough to the familiar--but this - may come when more habituated to the awe of the audience of - the capital. Her action is proper, but with little variety; - when without motion, her arms are not genteel. Thus you see - all my objections are very trifling; but what I really wanted, - but did not find, was originality, which announces genius, - and without both which I am never intrinsically pleased. All - Mrs. Siddons did, good sense or good instruction might give. - I dare to say, that were I one-and-twenty, I should have - thought her marvellous; but alas! I remember Mrs. Porter and - the Dumesnil--and remember every accent of the former in the - very same part. Yet this is not entirely prejudice: don’t - I equally recollect the whole progress of Lord Chatham and - Charles Townshend, and does it hinder my thinking Mr. Fox a - prodigy?--Pray don’t send him this paragraph too.” - -Again: - - “Mrs. Siddons continues to be the mode, and to be modest and - sensible. She declines great dinners, and says her business - and the cares of her family take up her whole time. When Lord - Carlisle carried her the tribute-money from Brooks’s, he said - she was not _maniérée_ enough. ‘I suppose she was grateful,’ - said my niece, Lady Maria. Mrs. Siddons was desired to play - ‘Medea’ and ‘Lady Macbeth.’--‘No,’ she replied ‘she did not - look on them as female characters.’ She was questioned about - her transactions with Garrick: she said, ‘He did nothing but - put her out; that he told her she moved her right hand when it - should have been her left. In short,’ said she, ‘I found I must - not shade the tip of his nose.’” - -The war was now over. Lord North had fallen; his successor, Lord -Rockingham, was dead; and Lord Shelburne, who had grasped the helm in -spite of Fox, had to meet the demands of the victorious Colonists and -their French allies, with the certainty that whatever he arranged would -be distasteful to his countrymen, and bitterly opposed by the partisans -both of his rival and of North. With the first weeks of 1783 came news -of peace. Horace writes about it, in almost the same words, to Mann -and Lady Ossory, his two chief correspondents at this time: “Peace is -arrived. I cannot express how glad I am. I care not a straw what the -terms are, which I believe I know more imperfectly than anybody in -London. I am not apt to love details--my wish was to have peace, and -the next to see America secure of its liberty. Whether it will make -good use of it, is another point. It has an opportunity that never -occurred in the world before, of being able to select the best parts of -every known constitution; but I suppose it will not, as too prejudiced -against royalty to adopt it, even as a corrective of aristocracy and -democracy.” He anticipates that highway robberies will grow more daring -on the disbanding of troops, and that there will be an inundation of -French visitors. In less than six months he was able to boast that both -his prophecies had been fulfilled. In June, he describes how, on a dark -and rainy night, Strawberry Hill was invaded by the French Ambassador -at the head of a large party: - - “Of all houses upon earth, mine, from the painted glass and - over-hanging trees, wants the sun the most; besides the Star - Chamber and passage being obscured on purpose to raise the - Gallery. They ran their foreheads against Henry VII., and - took the grated door of the Tribune for the dungeon of the - castle. I mustered all the candlesticks in the house, but - before they could be lighted up, the young ladies, who, by the - way, are extremely natural, agreeable, and civil, were seized - with a panic of highwaymen, and wanted to go. I laughed, and - said, I believed there was no danger, for that I had not been - robbed these two years. However, I was not quite in the right; - they were stopped in Knightsbridge by two footpads, but Lady - Pembroke having lent them a servant besides their own, they - escaped.” - -Shortly afterwards he writes to Mann: - - “We have swarms of French daily; but they come as if they had - laid wagers that there is no such place as England, and only - wanted to verify its existence, or that they had a mind to - dance a minuet on English ground; for they turn on their heel - the moment after landing. Three came to see this house last - week, and walked through it literally while I wrote eight lines - of a letter; for I heard them go up the stairs, and heard - them go down, exactly in the time I was finishing no longer a - paragraph. It were happy for me had nobody more curiosity than - a Frenchman; who is never struck with anything but what he has - seen every day at Paris. I am tormented all day and every day - by people that come to see my house, and have no enjoyment of - it in summer. It would be even in vain to say that the plague - is here. I remember such a report in London when I was a child, - and my uncle, Lord Townshend, then Secretary of State, was - forced to send guards to keep off the crowd from the house in - which the plague was said to be; they would go and _see_ the - plague!” - -Walpole apologises to his diplomatic correspondent for dwelling on -such trifling topics. “The Peace,” he says, “has closed the chapter -of important news, which was all our correspondence lived on.” The -period of dulness and inaction, however, came to an end with the close -of the Parliamentary vacation. The Coalition Government of Fox and -Lord North, which had superseded Lord Shelburne in the spring, was now -fairly brought to the bar of public opinion. Walpole, who had offended -Fox’s adherents by the part he had played in the intrigues[90] -which followed on the death of Lord Rockingham, sought to retrieve -his character by an eager support of the new Administration. He was -loud in his praises of Fox’s masterly eloquence and strong sense. -He now disparages Fox’s chief opponent. “His competitor, Mr. Pitt,” -says Horace, “appears by no means an adequate rival. Just like their -fathers, Mr. Pitt has brilliant language, Mr. Fox solid sense; and such -luminous powers of displaying it clearly, that mere Eloquence is but -a Bristol stone, when set by the diamond Reason.” The country at this -moment was agitated by the debates on Fox’s celebrated India Bill. -This measure was being carried by triumphant majorities through the -Lower House, and, as Walpole thought, the Opposition did not expect -to succeed even in the House of Lords. He goes so far as to add, “Mr. -Pitt’s reputation is much sunk; nor, though he is a much more correct -logician than his father, has he the same firmness and perseverance. -It is no wonder that he was dazzled by his own premature fame; yet -his late checks may be of use to him, and teach him to appreciate his -strength better, or to wait till it is confirmed. Had he listed under -Mr. Fox, who loved and courted him, he would not only have discovered -modesty, but have been more likely to succeed him, than by commencing -his competitor.” This was written on the 5th of December, 1783. Ten -days later the India Bill was defeated in the House of Lords; the King -at once dismissed the Coalition; and before the end of the year Pitt -was installed as head of the Government, a position which he retained -for the rest of Walpole’s life. The struggle which the new Ministry had -to maintain for several weeks against an adverse majority in the House -of Commons is matter of familiar history which needs not here be dwelt -upon. - -The intense excitement which these events created throughout the -country is faithfully reflected in Walpole’s correspondence. We find -them producing a rupture between him and his correspondent of many -years’ standing, the poet Mason, which was not healed till shortly -before the deaths of the parties. And in writing to Mann, Walpole -several times refers to the general ferment. Thus he says: “Politics -have engrossed all conversation, and stifled other events, if any -have happened. Indeed our ladies, who used to contribute to enliven -correspondence, are become politicians, and, as Lady Townley says, -‘squeeze a little too much lemon into conversation.’ They have been -called back a little to their own profession--dress, by a magnificent -ball which the Prince of Wales gave two nights ago to near six hundred -persons, to which the Amazons of both parties were invited; and not a -scratch was given or received.” Again, in announcing the dissolution -of Parliament: “All the island will be a scene of riot, and probably -of violence. The parties are not separated in gentle mood: there will, -they say, be contested elections everywhere: consequently vast expense -and animosities.… We have no private news at all. Indeed, politics are -all in all. I question whether any woman will have anything to do with -a man of a different party. Little girls say, ‘Pray, Miss, of which -side are you?’ I heard of one that said, ‘Mama and I cannot get Papa -over to our side!’… To the present drama, Elections, I shall totally -shut my ears. I hated elections forty years ago; and, when I went to -White’s, preferred a conversation on Newmarket to one on elections: for -the language of the former I did not understand, and, consequently, -did not listen to; the other, being uttered in common phrase, made me -attend, whether I would or not. When such subjects are on the tapis, -they make me a very insipid correspondent. One cannot talk of what one -does not care about; and it would be jargon to you, if I did: however, -do not imagine but I allow a sufficient quantity of dulness to my time -of life. I have kept up a correspondence with you with tolerable spirit -for three-and-forty years together, without our once meeting. Can you -wonder that my pen is worn to the stump? You see it does not abandon -you; nor, though conscious of its own decay, endeavour to veil it by -silence. The Archbishop of Gil Blas has long been a lesson to me to -watch over my own ruins; but I do not extend that jealousy of vanity -to commerce with an old friend. You knew me in my days of folly and -riotous spirit; why should I hide my dotage from you, which is not -equally my fault and reproach?” - -[Illustration: _Sir Joshua Reynolds. Pinx._ _A. Dawson. Ph. Sc._ _G. -Keating. Sc._ - -_The Duchess of Devonshire._] - -In the middle of the elections, Horace writes once more: - - “The scene is wofully changed for the Opposition, though - not half the new Parliament is yet chosen. Though they - still contest a very few counties and some boroughs, they - own themselves totally defeated. They reckoned themselves - sure of two hundred and forty members; they probably will - not have an hundred and fifty; and, amongst them, not some - capital leaders,--perhaps not the Commander-in-Chief, Mr. Fox, - certainly not the late Commander-in-Chief of the Army, General - Conway. In short, between the industry of the Court and the - India Company, and that momentary frenzy that sometimes seizes - a whole nation, as if it were a vast animal, such aversion to - the Coalition and such a detestation of Mr. Fox have seized - the country, that, even where omnipotent gold retains its - influence, the elected pass through an ordeal of the most - virulent abuse. The great Whig families, the Cavendishes, - Rockinghams, Bedfords, have lost all credit in their own - counties; nay, have been tricked out of seats where the whole - property was their own; and in some of those cases a _royal_ - finger has too evidently tampered, as well as singularly and - revengefully towards Lord North and Lord Hertford; the latter - of whom, however, is likely to have six of his own sons[91] - in the House of Commons--an extraordinary instance. Such a - proscription, however, must have sown so deep resentment as it - was not wise to provoke; considering that permanent fortune is - a jewel that in no crown is the most to be depended upon! - - “When I have told you these certain truths, and when you must - be aware that this torrent of unpopularity broke out in the - capital, will it not sound like a contradiction if I affirm - that Mr. Fox himself is still struggling to be chosen for - Westminster, and maintains so sturdy a fight, that Sir Cecil - Wray, his antagonist, is not yet three hundred ahead of him, - though the Court exerts itself against him in the most violent - manner, by mandates, arts, etc.--nay, sent at once a body - of two hundred and eighty of the Guards to give their votes - as householders, which _is_ legal, but which my father in - the most quiet seasons would not have dared to do! At first, - the contest threatened to be bloody: Lord Hood[92] being the - third candidate, and on the side of the Court, a mob of three - hundred sailors undertook to drive away the opponents; but - the Irish chairmen,[93] being retained by Mr. Fox’s party, - drove them back to their element, and cured the tars of their - ambition of a naval victory. In truth, Mr. Fox has all the - popularity in Westminster; and, indeed, is so amiable and - winning, that, could he have stood in person all over England, - I question whether he would not have carried the Parliament. - The beldams hate him; but most of the pretty women in London - are indefatigable in making interest for him, the Duchess of - Devonshire in particular.[94] I am ashamed to say how coarsely - she has been received by some worse than tars! But me nothing - has shocked so much as what I heard this morning: at Dover they - roasted a poor _fox_ alive by the most diabolic allegory!--a - savage meanness that an Iroquois would not have committed. - Base, cowardly wretches! How much nobler to have hurried to - London and torn Mr. Fox himself piecemeal! I detest a country - inhabited by such stupid barbarians. I will write no more - to-night; I am in a passion!” - -A fortnight later he adds: - - “Most elections are over; and, if they were not, neither you - nor I care about such details. I have no notion of filling - one’s head with circumstances of which, in six weeks, one is to - discharge it for ever. Indeed, it is well that I live little - in the world, or I should be obliged to provide myself with - that viaticum for common conversation. Our ladies are grown - such vehement politicians, that no other topic is admissible; - nay, I do not know whether _you_ must not learn our politics - for the _conversationi_ at Florence,--at least, if Paris gives - the _ton_ to Italy, as it used to do. There are as warm - parties for Mr. Fox or Mr. Pitt at Versailles and Amsterdam - as in Westminster. At the first, I suppose, they exhale in - epigrams; are expressed at the second by case-knives; at the - last they vent themselves in deluges of satiric prints,[95] - though with no more wit than there is in a case-knife. I was - told last night that our engraved pasquinades for this winter, - at twelvepence or sixpence a-piece, would cost six or seven - pounds.” - -In the result, Fox was returned, but Conway lost his seat. Walpole -congratulates the latter on his retirement from public life: - - “Berkeley Square, Wednesday, May 5, 1784. - - “Your cherries, for aught I know, may, like Mr. Pitt, be half - ripe before others are in blossom; but at Twickenham, I am - sure, I could find dates and pomegranates on the quickset - hedges, as soon as a cherry in swaddling-clothes on my walls. - The very leaves on the horse-chesnuts are little things, that - cry and are afraid of the north wind, and cling to the bough - as if _old poker_ was coming to take them away. For my part, - I have seen nothing like spring but a chimney-sweeper’s - garland; and yet I have been three days in the country--and the - consequence was, that I was glad to come back to town. - - “I do not wonder that you feel differently; anything is warmth - and verdure when compared to poring over memorials. In truth, - I think you will be much happier for being out of Parliament. - You could do no good there; you have no views of ambition to - satisfy; and when neither duty nor ambition calls (I do not - condescend to name avarice, which never is to be satisfied, - nor deserves to be reasoned with, nor has any place in your - breast), I cannot conceive what satisfaction an elderly man - can have in listening to the passions or follies of others: - nor is eloquence such a banquet, when one knows that, whoever - the cooks are, whatever the sauces, one has eaten as good - beef or mutton before, and, perhaps, as well dressed. It is - surely time to live for one’s self, when one has not a vast - while to live; and you, I am persuaded, will live the longer - for leading a country life. How much better to be planting, - nay, making experiments on smoke[96] (if not too dear), than - reading applications from officers, a quarter of whom you - could not serve, nor content three quarters! You had not time - for necessary exercise; and, I believe, would have blinded - yourself. In short, if you will live in the air all day, be - totally idle, and not read or write a line by candle-light, - and retrench your suppers, I shall rejoice in your having - nothing to do but that dreadful punishment, pleasing yourself. - Nobody has any claims on you; you have satisfied every point of - honour; you have no cause for being particularly grateful to - the Opposition; and you want no excuse for living for yourself. - Your resolutions on economy are not only prudent, but just; - and, to say the truth, I believe that if you had continued at - the head of the Army, you would have ruined yourself. You have - too much generosity to have curbed yourself, and would have had - too little time to attend to doing so. I know by myself how - pleasant it is to have laid up a little for those I love, for - those that depend on me, and for old servants.… - - “You seem to think that I might send you more news. So I might, - if I would talk of elections; but those, you know, I hate, as, - in general, I do all details. How Mr. Fox has recovered such a - majority I do not guess; still less do I comprehend how there - could be so many that had not voted, after the poll had lasted - so long.[97] Indeed, I should be sorry to understand such - mysteries.… - - “P.S. The summer is come to town, but I hope gone into the - country too.” - -The new Parliament having met, and disclosed a majority of more than -two to one in favour of the Government, Walpole dismisses politics and -returns to lighter topics. He writes to Conway: - - “Strawberry Hill, June 30, 1784. - - “Instead of coming to you, I am thinking of packing up and - going to town for winter, so desperate is the weather! I found - a great fire at Mrs. Clive’s this evening, and Mr. Raftor - hanging over it like a smoked ham. They tell me my hay will be - all spoiled for want of cutting; but I had rather it should - be destroyed by standing than by being mowed, as the former - will cost me nothing but the crop, and ’tis very dear to make - nothing but a water-souchy of it. - - “You know I have lost a niece, and found another nephew: he - makes the fifty-fourth, reckoning both sexes. We are certainly - an affectionate family, for of late we do nothing but marry one - another. Have not YOU felt a little twinge in a remote corner - of your heart on Lady Harrington’s death?[98] She dreaded death - so extremely that I am glad she had not a moment to be sensible - of it. I have a great affection for sudden deaths; they save - one’s self and everybody else a deal of ceremony. - - “The Duke and Duchess of Marlborough breakfasted here on - Monday, and seemed much pleased, though it rained the whole - time with an Egyptian darkness. I should have thought there had - been deluges enough to destroy all Egypt’s other plagues: but - the newspapers talk of locusts; I suppose relations of your - beetles, though probably not so fond of green fruit; for the - scene of their campaign is Queen Square, Westminster, where - there certainly has not been an orchard since the reign of - Canute. - - “I have, at last, seen an air-balloon; just as I once did see a - tiny review, by passing one accidentally on Hounslow Heath. I - was going last night to Lady Onslow at Richmond, and over Mr. - Cambridge’s field I saw a bundle in the air not bigger than - the moon, and she herself could not have descended with more - composure if she had expected to find Endymion fast asleep. It - seemed to ’light on Richmond Hill; but Mrs. Hobart was going - by, and her _coiffure_ prevented my seeing it alight. The - papers say, that a balloon has been made at Paris representing - the castle of Stockholm, in compliment to the King of Sweden; - but that they are afraid to let it off: so, I suppose, it - will be served up to him in a dessert. No great progress, - surely, is made in these airy navigations, if they are still - afraid of risking the necks of two or three subjects for the - entertainment of a visiting sovereign. There is seldom a _feu - de joie_ for the birth of a Dauphin that does not cost more - lives. I thought royalty and science never haggled about the - value of blood when experiments are in the question. - - “I shall wait for summer before I make you a visit. Though I - dare to say that you have converted your smoke-kilns into a - manufactory of balloons, pray do not erect a Strawberry castle - in the air for my reception, if it will cost a pismire a hair - of its head. Good-night! I have ordered my bed to be heated as - hot as an oven, and Tonton and I must go into it.” - -The recent invention of balloons was at this time exciting general -interest. “This enormous capital,” says Walpole, “that must have -some occupation, is most innocently amused with those philosophic -playthings, air-balloons. An Italian, one Lunardi, is the first -_airgonaut_ that has mounted into the clouds in this country. He is -said to have bought three or four thousand pounds in the stocks, -by exhibiting his person, his balloon, and his dog and cat, at the -Pantheon for a shilling each visitor. Blanchard, a Frenchman, is his -rival; and I expect that they will soon have an air-fight in the -clouds, like a stork and a kite.” - -This year ended for our author with a severe attack of gout. He replies -to inquiries from Lady Ossory: - - “Berkeley Square, Dec. 27, 1784. - - “I am told that I am in a prodigious fine way; which, being - translated into plain English, means that I have suffered - more sharp pain these two days than in all the moderate fits - together that I have had for these last nine years: however, - Madam, I have one great blessing, there is drowsiness in all - the square hollows of the red-hot bars of the gridiron on - which I lie, so that I scream and fall asleep by turns, like - a babe that is cutting its first teeth. I can add nothing to - this exact account, which I only send in obedience to your - Ladyship’s commands, which I received just now: I did think on - Saturday that the worst was over.” - -On his recovery, he writes: - - “I am always thanking you, Madam, I think, for kind inquiries - after me; but it is not my fault that I am so often - troublesome! I would it were otherwise!--however, I do not - complain. I have attained another resurrection, and was so - glad of my liberty, that I went out both Saturday and Sunday, - though so snowy a day and so rainy a day never were invented. - Yet I have not ventured to see Mrs. Jordan,[99] nor to skate - in Hyde Park. We had other guess winters in my time!--fine - sunny mornings, with now and then a mild earthquake, just - enough to wake one, and rock one to sleep again comfortably. - My recoveries surprise me more than my fits; but I am quite - persuaded now that I know exactly how I shall end: as I am a - statue of chalk, I shall crumble to powder, and then my inside - will be blown away from my terrace, and hoary-headed Margaret - will tell the people that come to see my house,-- - - ‘One morn we miss’d him on the ’custom’d hill.’ - - When that is the case, Madam, don’t take the pains of - inquiring more; as I shall leave no _body_ to return to, even - Cagliostro would bring me back to no purpose.” - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - Lady Correspondents.--Madame de Genlis.--Miss Burney and Hannah - More.--Deaths of Mrs. Clive and Sir Horace Mann.--Story of - Madame de Choiseul.--Richmond.--Queensberry House.--Warren - Hastings.--Genteel Comedy.--St. Swithin.--Riverside - Conceits.--Lord North.--The Theatre again.--Gibbon’s - History.--Sheridan.--Conway’s Comedy.--A Turkish War.--Society - Newspapers.--The Misses Berry.--Bonner’s Ghost.--The Arabian - Nights.--King’s College Chapel.--Richmond Society.--New - Arrivals.--The Berrys visit Italy.--A Farewell Letter. - - -No one who has looked through Walpole’s published letters can have -failed to observe that the great majority of those which belong to -the last twelve or thirteen years of the writer’s life are addressed -to female correspondents. This is not an accidental circumstance. It -is clear that, as his old friends dropped off, Horace supplied their -places, in almost every instance, with women. The antiquary Pinkerton -succeeds to the antiquary Cole,[100] but Montagu and Mason, Sir -Horace Mann[101] and Lord Strafford,[102] had no successors of their -own sex. Except when literary topics were on the carpet, Walpole, in -his latter days, shrank from engaging in discussion with younger -and more vigorous men. In several passages of his correspondence, he -acknowledges this feeling of reserve and shyness. But with ladies of -every class he was always at home and at ease. Old or young, grave or -gay, English or French, they found him their devoted servant, full of -nicely adjusted gallantry, never too busy to entertain with gossip -and letters, ever ready to assist with advice, and, when occasion -required, with the contents of a well-stocked purse. Thus, from the -year 1785 onwards, we have him generally in correspondence with ladies, -and as often as not, about ladies. During the first part of this -period especially, sketches of well-known women meet us, thrown off at -frequent intervals by his practised pen. Here is an account of a visit -from Madame de Genlis in July, 1785: - - “You surprise me, Madam, by saying the newspapers mention my - disappointment of seeing Madame de Genlis. How can such arrant - trifles spread? It is very true, that as the hill would not - go to see Madame de Genlis, she has come to see the hill. Ten - days ago Mrs. Cosway sent me a note that _Madame_ desired a - ticket for Strawberry Hill. I thought I could not do less than - offer her a breakfast, and named yesterday se’nnight. Then came - a message that she must go to Oxford and take her Doctor’s - degree; and then another, that I should see her yesterday, - when she did arrive with Miss Wilkes and Pamela, whom she did - not even present to me, and whom she has educated to be very - like herself in the face. I told her I could not attribute - the honour of her visit but to my late dear friend Madame du - Deffand. It rained the whole time, and was dark as midnight, so - that she could scarce distinguish a picture; but you will want - an account of her, and not of what she saw or could not see. - Her person is agreeable, and she seems to have been pretty. - Her conversation is natural and reasonable, not _précieuse_ - and affected, and searching to be eloquent, as I had expected. - I asked her if she had been pleased with Oxford, meaning the - buildings, not the wretched oafs that inhabit it. She said she - had had little time; that she had wished to learn their plan - of education, which, as she said sensibly, she supposed was - adapted to our Constitution. I could have told her that it is - directly repugnant to our Constitution, and that nothing is - taught there but drunkenness and prerogative, or, in their - language, Church and King. I asked if it is true that the - new edition of Voltaire’s works is prohibited: she replied, - severely,--and then condemned those who write against religion - and government, which was a little unlucky before her friend - _Miss Wilkes_. She stayed two hours, and returns to France - to-day _to her duty_. I really do not know whether the Duc de - Chartres is in England or not. She did lodge in his house in - Portland Place; but at Paris, I think, has an hotel where she - educates his daughters.” - -A little later, he reports: “Dr. Burney and his daughter, -Evelina-Cecilia, have passed a day and a half with me.[103] He is -lively and agreeable; she half-and-half sense and modesty, which -possess her so entirely, that not a cranny is left for affectation or -pretension. Oh! Mrs. Montagu, you are not above half as accomplished.” -This was an unusual tribute from the fastidious Horace. - -Here, too, we must introduce the name of another literary lady, whose -acquaintance with our author, begun some time previously, ripened about -this date into an occasional exchange of letters. Hannah More,[104] -then one of the Vesey coterie in Clarges Street, which, however, she -presently quitted, ranked, we conceive, in Walpole’s estimation, -about midway between Mrs. Montagu and Miss Burney. Writing to Hannah, -not long after her retirement from London, he says: “The last time I -saw her,” that is Mrs. Vesey, “Miss Burney passed the evening there, -looking quite recovered and well, and so cheerful and agreeable, that -the Court seems only to have improved the ease of her manner, instead -of stamping more reserve on it, as I feared: but what slight graces -it can give, will not compensate to us and the world for the loss of -her company and her writings. Not but that _some young ladies_ who can -write, can stifle their talent as much as if they were under lock and -key in the royal library. I do not see but _a cottage_ is as pernicious -to genius as the Queen’s waiting-room.” - -Walpole had laughed at the “Blue-stockings,” but he bows graciously to -the authors of “Cecilia” and “Percy,” and marks by an altered style of -address his sense of the difference between the tone of these ladies -and that of the Lady Ossorys and Kitty Clives with whom his youth and -middle life had been spent. Poor Kitty’s old age of cards came to an -end before the close of 1785, and Cliveden, which she had occupied for -more than thirty years, stood for awhile untenanted. Horace lamented -the loss of his old friend and neighbour, but she was several years -senior to himself, and her death was not unexpected. The pair had lived -so much together that probably few letters passed between them: none -have been preserved, and the removal of the lady makes no gap in the -gentleman’s correspondence. It is otherwise with the next name which -was struck from Walpole’s list of old familiar acquaintances. Shortly -after losing a friend from whom he was never long parted, he lost -the friend whom he never met. No long time had elapsed since Walpole -had written to Mann: “Shall we not be very venerable in the annals -of friendship? What Orestes and Pylades ever wrote to each other for -four-and-forty years without meeting? A correspondence of near half -a century is not to be paralleled in the annals of the Post Office.” -Again, about the time of Mrs. Clive’s death: “_Now_ I think we are like -Castor and Pollux; when one rises, t’other sets; when you can write, I -cannot. I have got a very sharp attack of gout in my right hand.… Your -being so well is a great comfort to me.” Despite this congratulation, -however, the Ambassador was very near to his final setting. He died at -Florence on the 16th of November, 1786, after a long illness, during -the latter part of which he was apparently not in a condition to -receive letters. Walpole’s last letter to him is dated June 22, 1786. -It makes the eight hundred and ninth in the collection, as printed, of -Walpole’s part of the correspondence between them. - -But we must not suppose that Lady Ossory’s gazetteer is all this time -forgetful of his Countess. Here is an anecdote which he sends her in -the early part of 1786: - - “How do you like, Madam, the following story? A young Madame - de Choiseul is inloved with by Monsieur de Coigny and Prince - Joseph of Monaco. She longed for a parrot that should be a - miracle of eloquence: every other shop in Paris sells mackaws, - parrots, cockatoos, &c. No wonder one at least of the rivals - soon found a Mr. Pitt, and the bird was immediately declared - the nymph’s first minister: but as she had two passions as - well as two lovers, she was also enamoured of General Jackoo - at Astley’s. The unsuccessful candidate offered Astley ingots - for his monkey, but Astley demanding a _terre_ for life, - the paladin was forced to desist, but fortunately heard of - another miracle of parts of the Monomotapan race, who was not - in so exalted a sphere of life, being only a _marmiton_ in a - kitchen, where he had learnt to pluck fowls with an inimitable - dexterity. This dear animal was not invaluable, was bought, and - presented to Madame de Choiseul, who immediately made him the - _secretaire de ses commandemens_. Her caresses were distributed - equally to the animals, and her thanks to the donors. The - first time she went out, the two former were locked up in her - bed-chamber. Ah! I dread to tell the sequel. When the lady - returned and flew to her chamber, Jackoo the second received - her with all the _empressement_ possible--but where was - Poll?--found at last under the bed, shivering and cowering--and - without a feather, as stark as any Christian. Poll’s presenter - concluded that his rival had given the monkey with that very - view, challenged him, they fought, and both were wounded; and - an heroic adventure it was!” - -Mrs. Clive being dead, and another sister-in-loo, Lady Browne, whom -he often called his better-half, having left Twickenham, Walpole, -when at Strawberry Hill, began to look across the water for society. -He was attracted to Richmond by George Selwyn, who was now at times -domesticated there with the Duke of Queensberry, the “Old Q” of the -caricaturists. In December, 1786, Horace writes: - - “I went yesterday to see the Duke of Queensberry’s palace at - Richmond, under the conduct of George Selwyn, the _concierge_. - You cannot imagine how noble it looks now all the Cornbury - pictures from Amesbury are hung up there. The great hall, the - great gallery, the eating-room, and the corridor, are covered - with whole and half-lengths of royal family, favourites, - ministers, peers, and judges, of the reign of Charles I.--not - one an original, I think, at least not one fine, yet altogether - they look very respectable; and the house is so handsome, and - the views so rich, and the day was so fine, that I could only - have been more pleased if (for half an hour) I could have seen - the real palace that once stood on that spot, and the persons - represented walking about!--A visionary holiday in old age, - though it has not the rapture of youth, is a sedate enjoyment - that is more sensible because one attends to it and reflects - upon it at the time; and as new tumults do not succeed, the - taste remains long in one’s memory’s mouth.” - -Walpole was late this year in removing to Berkeley Square. The -political topic of the London season was the debates in the House of -Commons on the charges against Warren Hastings; the social topic, in -our author’s circle at any rate, appears to have been some theatrical -performances at the Duke of Richmond’s house in Whitehall. Horace seems -to have interested himself a good deal more in the latter subject than -the former. Lady Ossory having urged him to read a pamphlet in favour -of Mr. Hastings, he replies: - - “The pamphlet I have read, Madam; but cannot tell you what - would have been my opinion of it, because my opinion was - influenced before I saw it. A lady-politician ordered me to - read it, and to admire it, as the _chef-d’œuvre_ of truth, - eloquence, wit, argument, and impartiality; and she assured - me that the _reasonings_ in it were unanswerable. I believe - she meant the _assertions_, for I know she uses those words as - synonymous. I promised to obey her, as I am sure that ladies - understand politics better than I do, and I hold it as a rule - of faith-- - - “That all that they admire is sweet, - And all is sense that they repeat. - - “How much ready wit they have! I can give you an instance, - Madam, that I heard last night. After the late execution of - the _eighteen_ malefactors, a female was hawking an account of - them, but called them _nineteen_. A gentleman said to her, ‘Why - do you say _nineteen_? there were but _eighteen_ hanged.’ She - replied, ‘Sir, I did not know _you_ had been reprieved.’” - -A week later, he writes again: - - “Berkeley Square, Feb. 9, 1787. - - “Though I sigh for your Ladyship’s coming to town, I do not - know whether I shall not be a loser, for what news don’t you - send me? That Lord Salisbury is a poet is nothing to your - intelligence that _I_ am going to turn player; nay, perhaps - I should, if I were not too young for the company!--You tell - me, too, that I snub and sneer; I protest, I thought I was the - snubee.… - - “For sneering, Heaven help me! I was guiltless. Every day I - meet with red-hot politicians in petticoats, and told your - Ladyship how I had been schooled by one of them, and how docile - I was. If you yourself have any zeal for making converts, I - should be very ready to be a proselyte, if I could get anything - by it. It is very creditable, honourable, and fashionable; but, - alas! I am so insignificant that I fear nobody would buy me; - and one should look sillily to put one’s self up to sale and - not find a purchaser. - - “In short, I doubt I shall never make my fortune by turning - courtier or comedian; and therefore I may as well adhere to - my old principles, as I have always done, since you yourself, - Madam, would not be flattered in a convert that nobody would - take off your hands. If you could bring over Mr. Sheridan, he - would do something: he talked for five hours and a half on - Wednesday, and turned everybody’s head. One heard everybody - in the streets raving on the wonders of that speech; for my - part, I cannot believe it was so supernatural as they say--do - you believe it was, Madam? I will go to my oracle, who told - me of the marvels of the pamphlet, which assures us that Mr. - Hastings is a prodigy of virtue and abilities; and, as you - think so too, how should such a fellow as Sheridan, who has no - diamonds to bestow, fascinate all the world?--Yet witchcraft, - no doubt, there has been, for when did simple eloquence ever - convince a majority? Mr. Pitt and 174 other persons found Mr. - Hastings guilty last night,[105] and only sixty-eight remained - thinking with _the pamphlet_ and your Ladyship, that he is as - white as snow. Well, at least there is a new crime, sorcery, to - charge on the Opposition! and, till they are cleared of that - charge, I will never say a word in their favour, nor think on - politics more, which I would not have mentioned but in answer - to your Ladyship’s questions; and therefore I hope we shall - drop the subject, and meet soon in Grosvenor Place in a perfect - neutrality of good humour.” - -His remarks on the Duke’s Theatre are contained in the following -letter, written after his early return to Twickenham. - - “Strawberry Hill, June 14, 1787. - - “Though your Ladyship _gave me law_ (a very proper synonyme for - delay), I should have answered your letter incontinently, but I - have had what is called a _blight_ in one of my eyes, and for - some days was forced to lie fallow, neither reading nor writing - a line; which is a little uncomfortable when quite alone. I - do begin to creep about my house, but have not recovered my - feet enough to compass the whole circuit of my garden. Monday - last was pleasant, and Tuesday very warm; but we are relapsed - into our east windhood, which has reigned ever since I have - been here for this _green winter_, which, I presume, is the - highest title due to this season, which in southern climes is - positive _summer_, a name imported by our travellers, with - grapes, peaches, and tuberoses. However, most of my senses - have enjoyed themselves--my sight with verdure, my smell by - millions of honeysuckles, my hearing by nightingales, and my - feeling with good fires: tolerable luxury for an old cavalier - in the north of Europe! Semiramis of Russia is not of my taste, - or she would not travel half round the arctic circle; unless - she means to conquer the Turks, and transfer the seat of her - empire to Constantinople, like its founder. The ghost of Irene - will be mighty glad to see her there, though a little surprised - that the Grand Duke, her son, is still alive. I hear she has - carried her grandchildren with her as hostages, or she might be - dethroned, and not hear of it for three months. - - “I am very far from tired, Madam, of encomiums on the - performance at Richmond House, but I, by no means, agree with - the criticism on it that you quote, and which, I conclude, - was written by some player, from envy. Who should act genteel - comedy perfectly, but people of fashion that have sense? Actors - and actresses can only guess at the tone of high life, and - can_not_ be inspired with it. Why are there so few genteel - comedies, but because most comedies are written by men not of - that sphere? Etherege, Congreve, Vanbrugh, and Cibber wrote - genteel comedy, because they lived in the best company; and - Mrs. Oldfield played it so well, because she not only followed, - but often set, the fashion. General Burgoyne has written the - best modern comedy, for the same reason; and Miss Farren[106] - is as excellent as Mrs. Oldfield, because she has lived with - the best style of men in England: whereas Mrs. Abington - can never go beyond _Lady Teazle_, which is a second-rate - character, and that rank of women are always aping women of - fashion, without arriving at the style. Farquhar’s plays talk - the language of a marching regiment in country quarters: - Wycherley, Dryden, Mrs. Centlivre, etc., wrote as if they had - only lived in the ‘Rose Tavern;’[107] but then the Court lived - in Drury Lane, too, and Lady Dorchester and Nell Gwyn were - equally good company. The Richmond Theatre, I imagine, will - take root. I supped with the Duke at Mrs. Damer’s, the night - before I left London, and they were talking of improvements on - _the local_, as the French would say.” - -A few weeks later, he has dismissed the talk of London, and is occupied -with his neighbours on the Thames. The following is a letter to Lord -Strafford: - - “Strawberry Hill, July 28, 1787. - - “Saint Swithin is no friend to correspondence, my dear Lord. - There is not only a great sameness in his own proceedings, but - he makes everybody else dull--I mean in the country, where one - frets at its raining every day and all day. In town he is no - more minded than the proclamation against vice and immorality. - Still, though he has all the honours of the quarantine, I - believed it often rained for forty days long before St. Swithin - was born, if ever born he was; and the proverb was coined - and put under his patronage, because people observed that it - frequently does rain for forty days together at this season. - I remember Lady Suffolk telling me, that Lord Dysart’s great - meadow at Ham had never been mowed but once in forty years - without rain. I said, ‘All that that proved was, that rain was - good for hay,’ as I am persuaded the climate of a country and - its productions are suited to each other. Nay, rain is good for - haymakers too, who get more employment the oftener the hay is - made over again. I do not know who is the saint that presides - over thunder; but he has made an unusual quantity in this chill - summer, and done a great deal of serious mischief, though not a - fiftieth part of what Lord George Gordon did seven years ago, - and happily he is fled. - - “Our little part of the world has been quiet as usual. The Duke - of Queensberry has given a sumptuous dinner to the Princesse - de Lamballe--_et voilà tout_. I never saw her, not even in - France. I have no particular _penchant_ for sterling princes - and princesses, much less for those of French plate. - - “The only entertaining thing I can tell your Lordship from our - district is, that old Madam French, who lives close by the - bridge at Hampton Court, where, between her and the Thames, - she has nothing but one grass-plot of the width of her house, - has paved that whole plot with black and white marble in - diamonds, exactly like the floor of a church; and this curious - metamorphosis of a garden into a pavement has cost her three - hundred and forty pounds:--a tarpaulin she might have had for - some shillings, which would have looked as well, and might - easily have been removed. To be sure, this exploit, and Lord - Dudley’s obelisk _below_ a hedge, with his canal at right - angles with the Thames, and a sham bridge no broader than that - of a violin, and _parallel_ to the river, are not preferable to - the monsters in clipt yews of our ancestors. On the contrary, - Mrs. Walsingham is making her house at Ditton (now baptized - Boyle Farm[108]) very orthodox. Her daughter Miss Boyle, who - has real genius, has carved three tablets in marble with boys, - designed by herself. Those sculptures are for a chimney-piece; - and she is painting panels in grotesque for the library, with - pilasters of glass in black and gold. Miss Crewe, who has taste - too, has decorated a room for her mother’s house at Richmond, - which was Lady Margaret Compton’s, in a very pretty manner. - How much more amiable the old women of the next age will be, - than most of those we remember, who used to tumble at once from - gallantry to devout scandal and cards, and revenge on the young - of their own sex the desertion of ours! Now they are ingenious, - they will not want amusement.” - -In the autumn, he pays a visit to Lord North: - - “I dined last Monday at Bushy (for you know I have more - _penchant_ for Ministers that are out than when they are in) - and never saw a more interesting scene. Lord North’s spirits, - good humour, wit, sense, drollery, are as perfect as ever--the - unremitting attention of Lady North and his children, most - touching. Mr. North leads him about, Miss North sits constantly - by him, carves meat, watches his every motion, scarce puts a - bit into her own lips; and if one cannot help commending her, - she colours with modesty and sorrow till the tears gush into - her eyes. If ever loss of sight could be compensated, it is by - so affectionate a family.” - -Not long after this, Walpole repeats a good-humoured jest of the blind -old man on receiving a call from his _quondam_ opponent, Colonel Barré, -whose sight also was nearly gone. Lord North said: “Colonel Barré, -nobody will suspect us of insincerity, if we say that we should always -be overjoyed to see each other.” - -With the return of winter, the theatre comes up again. There was a -stage at Ampthill as well as at Whitehall: - - “Berkeley Square, Jan. 15, 1788. - - “All joy to your Ladyship on the success of your theatric - campaign. I do think the representation of plays as - entertaining and ingenious, as choosing king and queen, and - the gambols and mummeries of our ancestors at Christmas; or - as making one’s neighbours and all their servants drunk, and - sending them home ten miles in the dark with the chance of - breaking their necks by some comical overturn. I wish I could - have been one of the audience; but, alas! I am like the African - lamb, and can only feed on the grass and herbs that grow within - my reach. - - “I can make no returns yet from the theatre at Richmond House; - the Duke and Duchess do not come till the birthday, and I have - been at no more rehearsals, being satisfied with two of the - play. Prologue or epilogue there is to be none, as neither the - plays nor the performers, in general, are new. The ‘Jealous - Wife’ is to succeed for the exhibition of Mrs. Hobart, who - could have no part in ‘The Wonder.’ - - “My histrionic acquaintance spreads. I supped at Lady Dorothy - Hotham’s with Mrs. Siddons, and have visited and been visited - by her, and have seen and liked her much, yes, very much, in - the passionate scenes of ‘Percy;’ but I do not admire her in - cool declamation, and find her voice very hollow and defective. - I asked her in which part she would most wish me to see her? - She named Portia in the ‘Merchant of Venice;’ but I begged to - be excused. With all my enthusiasm for Shakespeare, it is one - of his plays that I like the least. The story of the caskets - is silly, and, except the character of Shylock, I see nothing - beyond the attainment of a mortal: Euripides, or Racine, or - Voltaire, might have written all the rest. Moreover, Mrs. - Siddons’s warmest devotees do not hold her above a demigoddess - in comedy. I have chosen ‘Athenais,’ in which she is to appear - soon; her scorn is admirable.… - - “Puppet-shows are coming on, the birth-day, the Parliament, and - the trial of Hastings and his imp, Elijah. They will fill the - town, I suppose.” - -Walpole was as severe on professional authors as on professional -actors. “Except,” he says, “for such a predominant genius as -Shakespeare and Milton, I hold authors cheap enough: what merit is -there in pains, and study, and application, compared with the extempore -abilities of such men as Mr. Fox, Mr. Sheridan, or Mr. Pitt?” But he -made a further exception in favour of Gibbon. The following extract, -besides an estimate of Gibbon’s History, contains a reference to the -celebrated Begum Speech delivered by Sheridan in Westminster Hall on -the trial of Warren Hastings: - - “I finished Mr. Gibbon a full fortnight ago, and was extremely - pleased. It is a most wonderful mass of information, not only - on history, but almost on all the ingredients of history, - as war, government, commerce, coin, and what not. If it has - a fault, it is in embracing too much, and consequently in - not detailing enough, and in striding backwards and forwards - from one set of princes to another, and from one subject - to another; so that, without much historic knowledge, and - without much memory, and much method in one’s memory, it is - almost impossible not to be sometimes bewildered: nay, his own - impatience to tell what he knows, makes the author, though - commonly so explicit, not perfectly clear in his expressions. - The last chapter of the fourth volume, I own, made me recoil, - and I could scarcely push through it. So far from being - Catholic or heretic, I wished Mr. Gibbon had never heard of - Monophysites, Nestorians, or any such fools! But the sixth - volume made ample amends; Mahomet and the Popes were gentlemen - and good company. I abominate fractions of theology and - reformation. - - “Mr. Sheridan, I hear, did not quite satisfy the passionate - expectation that had been raised; but it was impossible he - could, when people had worked themselves into an enthusiasm - of offering fifty--ay, _fifty_ guineas for a ticket to hear - him. Well, we are sunk and deplorable in many points, yet not - absolutely gone, when history and eloquence throw out such - shoots! I thought I had outlived my country; I am glad not to - leave it desperate!” - -The next letter contains further references to the Begum Speech. It -is addressed to Lord Strafford, and is one of the latest of Walpole’s -letters to that nobleman which have been preserved: - - “Strawberry Hill, Tuesday night, June 17, 1788. - - “I guess, my dear Lord, and only guess, that you are arrived - at Wentworth Castle. If you are not, my letter will lose none - of its bloom by waiting for you; for I have nothing fresh to - tell you, and only write because you enjoined it. I settled - in my Liliputian towers but this morning. I wish people would - come into the country on May-day, and fix in town the first - of November. But as they will not, I have made up my mind; and - having so little time left, I prefer London, when my friends - and society are in it, to living here alone, or with the weird - sisters of Richmond and Hampton. I had additional reason now, - for the streets are as green as the fields: we are burnt to the - bone, and have not a lock of hay to cover our nakedness: oats - are so dear, that I suppose they will soon be eaten at Brooks’s - and fashionable tables as a rarity. Though not resident till - now, I have flitted backwards and forwards, and last Friday - came hither to look for a minute at a ball at Mrs. Walsingham’s - at Ditton; which would have been very pretty, for she had stuck - coloured lamps in the hair of all her trees and bushes, if the - east wind had not danced a reel all the time by the side of the - river. - - “Mr. Conway’s play,[109] of which your Lordship has seen - some account in the papers, has succeeded delightfully, - both in representation and applause. The language is most - genteel, though translated from verse; and both prologue and - epilogue are charming. The former was delivered most justly - and admirably by Lord Derby, and the latter with inimitable - spirit and grace by Mrs. Damer. Mr. Merry and Mrs. Bruce played - excellently too. But General Conway, Mrs. Damer, and everybody - else are drowned by Mr. Sheridan, whose renown has engrossed - all Fame’s tongues and trumpets. Lord Townshend said he should - be sorry were he forced to give a vote directly on Hastings, - before he had time to cool; and one of the Peers saying the - speech had not made the same impression on him, the Marquis - replied, A seal might be finely cut, and yet not be in fault - for making a bad impression. - - “I have, you see, been forced to send your Lordship what scraps - I brought from town. The next four months, I doubt, will reduce - me to my old sterility; for I cannot retail French Gazettes, - though as a good Englishman bound to hope they will contain - a civil war. I care still less about the double imperial - campaign, only hoping that the poor dear Turks will heartily - beat both Emperor and Empress. If the first Ottomans could be - punished, they deserve it, but the present possessors have as - good a prescription on their side as any people in Europe. - We ourselves are Saxons, Danes, Normans; our neighbours are - Franks, not Gauls; who the rest are, Goths, Gepidæ, Heruli, Mr. - Gibbon knows; and the Dutch usurped the estates of herrings, - turbots, and other marine indigenæ. Still, though I do not wish - the hair of a Turk’s beard to be hurt, I do not say that it - would not be amusing to have Constantinople taken, merely as - a lusty event; for neither could I live to see Athens revive, - nor have I much faith in two such bloody-minded vultures, cock - and hen, as Catherine and Joseph, conquering for the benefit of - humanity; nor does my Christianity admire the propagation of - the Gospel by the mouth of cannon. What desolation of peasants - and their families by the episodes of forage and quarters! Oh! - I wish Catherine and Joseph were brought to Westminster Hall - and worried by Sheridan! I hope, too, that the poor Begums are - alive to hear of his speech: it will be some comfort, though I - doubt nobody thinks of restoring them a quarter of a lac!” - -We must now find place for a letter to Miss More: - - “Strawberry Hill, July 4, 1788. - - “I am soundly rejoiced, my dear Madam, that the present summer - is more favourable to me than the last; and that, instead of - not answering my letters in three months, you open the campaign - first. May not I flatter myself that it is a symptom of your - being in better health? I wish, however, you had told me so in - positive words, and that all your complaints have left you. - Welcome as is your letter, it would have been ten times more - welcome bringing me that assurance; for don’t think I forget - how ill you was last winter. As letters, you say, now keep - their coaches, I hope those from Bristol will call often at my - door.[110] I promise you I will never be denied to them. - - “No botanist am I; nor wished to learn from _you_, of all the - Muses, that _piping_ has a new signification. I had rather that - _you_ handled an oaten pipe than a carnation one; yet setting - layers, I own, is preferable to reading newspapers, one of the - chronical maladies of this age. Everybody reads them, nay, - quotes them, though everybody knows they are stuffed with lies - or blunders. How should it be otherwise? If any extraordinary - event happens, who but must hear it before it descends through - a coffee-house to the runner of a daily paper? They who are - always wanting news, are wanting to hear they don’t know what. - A lower species, indeed, is that of the scribes you mention, - who every night compose a journal for the satisfaction of such - _illiterati_, and feed them with all the vices and misfortunes - of every private family; nay, they now call it a _duty_ - to publish all those calamities which decency to wretched - relations used in compassion to suppress, I mean self-murder in - particular. Mr. Hesse’s was detailed at length; and to-day that - of Lord Saye and Sele. The pretence is, _in terrorem_, like the - absurd stake and highway of our ancestors; as if there were a - precautionary potion for madness, or the stigma of a newspaper - were more dreadful than death. Daily journalists, to be sure, - are most respectable magistrates! Yes, much like the cobblers - that Cromwell made peers. - - “I do lament your not going to Mr. Conway’s play: both the - author and actors deserved such an auditor as you, and you - deserved to hear them. However, I do not pity _good_ people who - out of virtue lose or miss any pleasures. Those pastimes fleet - as fast as those of the wicked; but, when gone, you saints can - sit down and feast on your self-denial, and drink bumpers of - satisfaction to the health of your own merit. So truly I don’t - pity you. - - “You say you hear no news, yet you quote Mr. Topham;[111] - therefore why should I tell you that the King is going to - Cheltenham? or that the Baccelli lately danced at the Opera at - Paris with a blue bandeau on her forehead, inscribed, _Honi - soit qui mal y pense_! - - “Well! would we committed nothing but follies! What do we not - commit when the abolition of slavery hitches! Adieu! - - “Though Cato died, though Tully spoke, - Though Brutus dealt the godlike stroke, - Yet perish’d fated Rome. - - “_You_ have written; and I fear that even, if Mr. Sheridan - speaks, trade, the modern religion, will predominate. Adieu!” - -Our next extract contains an account of an incident which proved more -fortunate for the writer than anything that happened to him during -the remainder of his life. It is from a letter to Lady Ossory, dated -Strawberry Hill, October 11, 1788. Horace writes: - - “I am sorry, for the third time of this letter, that I have - no new village anecdotes to send your Ladyship, since they - divert you for a moment. I have one, but some months old. Lady - Charleville, my neighbour, told me three months ago, that, - having some company with her, one of them had been to see - Strawberry. ‘Pray,’ said another, ‘who is that Mr. Walpole?’ - ‘Who!’ cried a third, ‘don’t you know the great epicure, Mr. - Walpole?’ ‘Pho!’ said the first, ‘great epicure! you mean the - antiquarian.’ There, Madam, surely this anecdote may take its - place in the chapter of local fame. If I have picked up no - recent anecdotes on our Common, I have made a much more, to - me, precious acquisition. It is the acquaintance of two young - ladies of the name of Berry, whom I first saw last winter, - and who accidentally took a house here with their father for - the season. Their story is singular enough to entertain you. - The grandfather,[112] a Scot, had a large estate in his own - country, £5,000 a year it is said; and a circumstance I shall - tell you makes it probable. The oldest son married for love a - woman with no fortune. The old man was enraged, and would not - see him. His wife died and left these two young ladies. The - grandfather wished for an heir male, and pressed the widower - to remarry, but could not prevail; the son declaring he would - consecrate himself to his daughters and their education. - The old man did not break with him again, but, much worse, - totally disinherited him, and left all to his second son, who - very handsomely gave up £800 a year to his elder brother. Mr. - Berry has since carried his daughters for two or three years - to France and Italy, and they are returned the best-informed - and the most perfect creatures I ever saw at their age. They - are exceedingly sensible, entirely natural and unaffected, - frank, and, being qualified to talk on any subject, nothing is - so easy and agreeable as their conversation, nor more apposite - than their answers and observations. The eldest, I discovered - by chance, understands Latin and is a perfect Frenchwoman in - her language. The younger draws charmingly, and has copied - admirably Lady Di’s gipsies, which I lent, though for the first - time of her attempting colours. They are of pleasing figures. - Mary, the eldest, sweet, with fine dark eyes, that are very - lively when she speaks, with a symmetry of face that is the - more interesting from being pale; Agnes, the younger, has an - agreeable sensible countenance, hardly to be called handsome, - but almost. She is less animated than Mary, but seems, out of - deference to her sister, to speak seldomer, for they dote on - each other, and Mary is always praising her sister’s talents. - I must even tell you they dress within the bounds of fashion, - though fashionably; but without the excrescences and balconies - with which modern hoydens overwhelm and barricade their - persons. In short, good sense, information, simplicity, and - ease characterise the Berrys; and this is not particularly - mine, who am apt to be prejudiced, but the universal voice of - all who know them. The first night I met them I would not be - acquainted with them, having heard so much in their praise that - I concluded they would be all pretension. The second time, in a - very small company, I sat next to Mary, and found her an angel - both inside and out. Now, I do not know which I like best; - except Mary’s face, which is formed for a sentimental novel, - but it is ten times fitter for a fifty times better thing, - genteel comedy. This delightful family comes to me almost every - Sunday evening, as our region is too _proclamatory_ to play at - cards on the seventh day. I forgot to tell you that Mr. Berry - is a little merry man, with a round face, and you would not - suspect him of so much feeling and attachment. I make no excuse - for such minute details; for, if your Ladyship insists on - hearing the humours of my district, you must for once indulge - me with sending you two pearls that I found in my path.” - -At the date of the above extract, Mary Berry was in her twenty-sixth -year, Agnes Berry in her twenty-fifth. The notice taken by Walpole of -these ladies gave them a position in the best London society, which -they enjoyed for upwards of sixty years; but this patronage, and any -other benefits which he bestowed upon them, were much more than repaid -by the grateful attention with which they sacrificed themselves to -promote the comfort of his last years. The new acquaintance advanced -rapidly. Here is one of the earliest of Walpole’s letters to the -sisters which has been published. Like many others of the series, it is -addressed to the two jointly. - - “February 2, 17-71[113] [1789]. - - “I am sorry, in the sense of that word before it meant, like a - Hebrew word, glad or sorry, that I am engaged this evening; and - I am at your command on Tuesday, as it is always my inclination - to be. It is a misfortune that words are become so much the - current coin of society, that, like King William’s shillings, - they have no impression left; they are so smooth, that they - mark no more to whom they first belonged than to whom they - do belong, and are not worth even the twelvepence into which - they may be changed: but if they mean too little, they may - seem to mean too much too, especially when an old man (who is - often synonymous for a miser) parts with them. I am afraid of - protesting how much I delight in your society, lest I should - seem to affect being gallant; but if two negatives make an - affirmative, why may not two ridicules compose one piece of - sense? and therefore, as I am in love with you both, I trust it - is a proof of the good sense of your devoted H. Walpole.” - -A few months later we have the following letter to Miss More: - - “Strawberry Hill, June 23, 1789. - - “MADAM HANNAH, - - “You are an errant reprobate, and grow wickeder and wickeder - every day. You deserve to be treated like a _nègre_; and - your favourite Sunday, to which you are so partial, that you - treat the other poor six days of the week as if they had no - souls to be saved, should, if I could have my will, ‘shine no - Sabbath-day for you.’ Now, don’t simper, and look as innocent - as if virtue would not melt in your mouth. Can you deny the - following charges?--I lent you the ‘Botanic Garden,’ and you - returned it without writing a syllable, or saying where you - were, or whither you was going; I suppose for fear I should - know how to direct to you. Why, if I did send a letter after - you, could not you keep it three months without an answer, as - you did last year? - - “In the next place, you and your _nine_ accomplices, who, by - the way, are too good in keeping you company, have clubbed the - prettiest Poem imaginable,[114] and communicated it to Mrs. - Boscawen, with injunctions not to give a copy of it; I suppose - because you are ashamed of having written a panegyric. Whenever - you _do_ compose a satire, you are ready enough to publish it; - at least, whenever you do, you will din one to death with it. - But now, mind your perverseness: that very pretty novel poem, - and I must own it is charming, have you gone and spoiled, - flying in the faces of your best friends the Muses, and keeping - no _measures_ with them. I’ll be shot if they dictated two of - the best lines with two syllables too much in each--nay, you - have weakened one of them, - - “‘Ev’n Gardiner’s mind’ - - is far more expressive than _steadfast_ Gardiner’s; and, - as Mrs. Boscawen says, whoever knows anything of Gardiner, - could not want that superfluous epithet; and whoever does - not, would not be the wiser for your foolish insertion--Mrs. - Boscawen did not call it foolish, but I do. The second line, as - Mesdemoiselles the Muses handed it to you, Miss, was, - - “‘Have all be free and saved--’ - - not, ‘All be free and all be saved:’ the second _all be_ is a - most unnecessary tautology. The poem was perfect and faultless, - if you could have let it alone. I wonder how your mischievous - flippancy could help maiming that most new and beautiful - expression, ‘sponge of sins;’ I should not have been surprised, - as you love verses too full of feet, if you had changed it to - ‘that scrubbing-brush of sins.’ - - “Well! I will say no more now: but if you do not order me a - copy of ‘Bonner’s Ghost’ incontinently, never dare to look my - printing-house in the face again. Or come, I’ll tell you what; - I will forgive all your enormities if you will let me print - your poem. I like to filch a little immortality out of others, - and the Strawberry press could never have a better opportunity. - I will not haggle for the public; I will be content with - printing only two hundred copies, of which you shall have - half and I half. It shall cost you nothing but a yes. I only - propose this in case you do not mean to print it yourself. - Tell me sincerely which you like. But as to not printing it at - all, charming and unexceptionable as it is, you cannot be so - preposterous. - - “I by no means have a thought of detracting from your own - share in your own poem; but, as I do suspect that it caught - some inspiration from your perusal of ‘The Botanic Garden,’ so - I hope you will discover that _my_ style is much improved by - having lately studied ‘Bruce’s Travels.’ There I dipped, and - not in St. Giles’s Pound, where one would think this author had - been educated. Adieu! Your friend, or mortal foe, as you behave - on the present occasion.” - -Before the date of the last, the Misses Berry had set out on a summer -excursion. The following is in answer to a letter from the elder: - - “Strawberry Hill, June 30, 1789. - - “Were there any such thing as sympathy at the distance of two - hundred miles, you would have been in a mightier panic than I - was; for, on Saturday se’nnight, going to open the glass case - in the Tribune, my foot caught in the carpet, and I fell with - my whole weight (_si_ weight _y a_) against the corner of the - marble altar on my side, and bruised the muscles so badly, that - for two days I could not move without screaming. I am convinced - I should have broken a rib, but that I fell on the cavity - whence two of my ribs were removed that are gone to Yorkshire. - I am much better both of my bruise and of my lameness, and - shall be ready to dance at my own wedding when my wives return. - And now to answer your letter. - - “If you grow tired of the ‘Arabian Nights,’ you have no more - taste than Bishop Atterbury, who huffed Pope for sending him - them (or the ‘Persian Tales’), and fancied he liked Virgil - better, who had no more imagination than Dr. Akenside. Read - ‘Sinbad the Sailor’s Voyages,’ and you will be sick of Æneas’s. - What woful invention were the nasty poultry that spoiled - his dinner, and ships on fire turned into Nereids! A barn - metamorphosed into a cascade in a pantomime is full as sublime - an effort of genius. I do not know whether the ‘Arabian Nights’ - are of Oriental origin or not: I should think not, because I - never saw any other Oriental composition that was not bombast - without genius, and figurative without nature; like an Indian - screen, where you see little men on the foreground, and larger - men hunting tigers above in the air, which they take for - perspective. I do not think the Sultaness’s narratives very - natural or very probable, but there is a wildness in them that - captivates. However, if you could wade through two octavos[115] - of Dame Piozzi’s _though’s_ and _so’s_ and _I trow’s_, and - cannot listen to seven volumes of Scheherezade’s narrations, I - will sue for a divorce _in foro Parnassi_, and Boccalini shall - be my proctor. The cause will be a counterpart to the sentence - of the Lacedæmonian, who was condemned for breach of the peace, - by saying in three words what he might have said in two. - - “So, you was not quite satisfied, though you ought to have been - transported, with King’s College Chapel, because it has no - aisles, like every common cathedral. I suppose you would object - to a bird of paradise, because it has no legs, but shoots to - heaven in a trail, and does not rest on earth. Criticism and - comparison spoil many tastes. You should admire all bold and - unique essays that resemble nothing else; the ‘Botanic Garden,’ - the ‘Arabian Nights,’ and King’s Chapel are above all rules: - and how preferable is what no one can imitate, to all that is - imitated even from the best models! Your partiality to the - pageantry of popery I do approve, and I doubt whether the world - would not be a loser (in its visionary enjoyments) by the - extinction of that religion, as it was by the decay of chivalry - and the proscription of the heathen deities. Reason has no - invention; and as plain sense will never be the legislator of - human affairs, it is fortunate when taste happens to be regent.” - -During the absence of his young favourites, he amuses himself with -visiting his neighbours, and grumbling at his “customers,” as he called -the strangers who came to view his villa and grounds: - - “Richmond is in the first request this summer. Mrs. Bouverie - is settled there with a large court. The Sheridans are there, - too, and the Bunburys. I have been once with the first; with - the others I am not acquainted. I go once or twice a week - to George Selwyn late in the evening, when he comes in from - walking:--about as often to Mrs. Ellis here, and to Lady - Cecilia Johnston at Hampton; but all together cannot contribute - to an entertaining letter, and it is odd to say that, though - my house is all the morning full of company, nobody lives so - much alone. I have already this season had between seventy and - fourscore companies to see my house; and half my time passes - in writing tickets or excuses. I wish I could think as an old - sexton did at King’s College. One of the fellows told him he - must get a great deal of money by showing it: ‘Oh, no! master,’ - replied he; ‘everybody has seen it now.’ _My_ companies, it - seems, are more prolific, and every set begets one or two more.” - -About the same date, he writes to Mary and Agnes: - - “Strawberry Hill, Thursday evening, Aug. 27, 1789. - - “I jumped for joy; that is, my heart did, which is all the - remains of me that is _in statu jumpante_, at the receipt - of your letter this morning, which tells me you approve - of the house at Teddington. How kind you was to answer so - incontinently! I believe you borrowed the best steed from the - races. I have sent to the landlord to come to me to-morrow: - but I could not resist beginning my letter to-night, as I am - at home alone, with a little pain in my left wrist; but the - right one has no brotherly feeling for it, and would not be - put off so. You ask how you have deserved such attentions? - Why, by deserving them; by every kind of merit, and by that - superlative one to me, your submitting to throw away so much - time on a forlorn antique; you two, who, without specifying - particulars, (and you must at least be conscious that you are - not two frights) might expect any fortune and distinctions, and - do delight all companies. On which side lies the wonder? Ask me - no more such questions, or I will cram you with reasons.… - - “Friday. - - “Well! I have seen him, and nobody was ever so accommodating! - He is as courteous as a candidate for a county. You may stay - in his house till Christmas if you please, and shall pay but - twenty pounds; and if more furniture is wanting, it shall be - supplied.” - - “Don’t bring me a pair of scissors from Sheffield. I am - determined nothing shall cut our loves, though I should live - out the rest of Methusalem’s term, as you kindly wish, and as - I can believe, though you are my wives; for I am persuaded my - Agnes wishes so too.--Don’t you?” - -The French Revolution was now in full progress: the Bastile had -been stormed and demolished; anarchy reigned in Paris; châteaux -in the provinces were being plundered and burnt by the peasants; -refugees, in terrified crowds, were pouring over to England. Some of -the exiles presently found their way into Walpole’s neighbourhood. -“Madame de Boufflers,” he tells Lady Ossory, “and the Comtesse Emilie, -her daughter-in-law, I hear, are come to London; and Woronzow, the -Russian Minister, who has a house at Richmond, is to lend it to her -for the winter, as her fortune has received some considerable blow in -the present commotions.” Besides these foreigners, other important -personages had come or were coming into the district. The Duke of -Clarence had a house in the middle of Richmond “with nothing but -a green short apron to the river, a situation only fit for an old -gentlewoman who has put out her knee-pans and loves cards. The Prince -of Wales has taken a somewhat better place at Roehampton, and enters -upon it at Christmas.” “My Straw-Berries,” he adds, “are not yet -returned, but I expect them next week, and have found a house for them -at Teddington very near me.” A little later, he writes, “My neighbour, -the Duke of Clarence, is so popular, that if Richmond were a borough, -and he had not attained his title, but still retained his idea of -standing candidate, he would certainly be elected there. He pays his -bills regularly himself, locks up his doors at night, that his servants -may not stay out late, and never drinks but a few glasses of wine. -Though the value of crowns is mightily fallen of late at market, it -looks as if his Royal Highness thought they were still worth waiting -for; nay, it is said that he tells his brothers that he shall be king -before either--that is fair at least.”[116] - -In July, 1790, Walpole is alarmed by the intelligence that the Berrys -have arranged to make a long visit to Italy. He writes to Miss Berry, -then at the sea with her sister: - - “I feel all the kindness of your determination of coming - to Twickenham in August, and shall certainly say no more - against it, though I am certain that I shall count every day - that passes; and when _they are passed_, they will leave a - melancholy impression on Strawberry, that I had rather have - affixed to London. The two last summers were infinitely the - pleasantest I ever passed here, for I never before had an - agreeable neighbourhood. Still I loved the place, and had - no comparisons to draw. Now, the neighbourhood will remain, - and will appear ten times worse; with the aggravation of - remembering _two months_ that may have some transient roses, - but, I am sure, lasting thorns. You tell me I do not write with - my usual spirits: at least I will suppress, as much as I can, - the want of them, though I am a bad dissembler.” - -The months pass, and we have the following farewell letter: - - “Sunday, Oct. 10, 1790. The day of your departure. - - “Is it possible to write to my beloved friends, and refrain - from speaking of my grief for losing you; though it is but the - continuation of what I have felt ever since I was stunned by - your intention of going abroad this autumn? Still I will not - tire you with it often. In happy days I smiled, and called you - my dear wives: now I can only think on you as darling children - of whom I am bereaved! As such I have loved and do love you; - and, charming as you both are, I have had no occasion to - remind myself that I am past seventy-three. Your hearts, your - understandings, your virtues, and the cruel injustice of your - fate,[117] have interested me in everything that concerns you; - and so far from having occasion to blush for any unbecoming - weakness, I am proud of my affection for you, and very proud of - your condescending to pass so many hours with a very old man, - when everybody admires you, and the most insensible allow that - your good sense and information (I speak of both) have formed - you to converse with the most intelligent of our sex as well as - your own; and neither can tax you with airs of pretension or - affectation. Your simplicity and natural ease set off all your - other merits--all these graces are lost to me, alas! when I - have no time to lose. - - “Sensible as I am to my loss, it will occupy but part of my - thoughts, till I know you safely landed, and arrived safely - at Turin. Not till you are there, and I learn so, will my - anxiety subside and settle into steady, selfish sorrow. I - looked at every weathercock as I came along the road to-day, - and was happy to see everyone point north-east. May they do so - to-morrow! - - “I found here the frame for Wolsey,[118] and to-morrow morning - Kirgate[119] will place him in it; and then I shall begin - pulling the little parlour to pieces, that it may be hung anew - to receive him. I have also obeyed Miss Agnes, though with - regret; for, on trying it, I found her Arcadia would fit the - place of the picture she condemned, which shall therefore be - hung in its room; though the latter should give way to nothing - else, nor shall be laid aside, but shall hang where I shall - see it almost as often. I long to hear that its dear paintress - is well; I thought her not at all so last night. You will tell - me the truth, though she in her own case, and in that alone, - allows herself mental reservation. - - “Forgive me for writing nothing to-night but about you two and - myself. Of what can I have thought else? I have not spoken - to a single person but my own servants since we parted last - night. I found a message here from Miss Howe[120] to invite me - for this evening. Do you think I have not preferred staying - at home to write to you, as this must go to London to-morrow - morning by the coach to be ready for Tuesday’s post? My future - letters shall talk of other things, whenever I know anything - worth repeating; or perhaps any trifle, for I am determined - to forbid myself lamentations that would weary you; and the - frequency of my letters will prove there is no forgetfulness. - If I live to see you again, you will then judge whether I am - changed; but a friendship so rational and so pure as mine - is, and so equal for both, is not likely to have any of the - fickleness of youth, when it has none of its other ingredients. - It was a sweet consolation to the short time that I may have - left, to fall into such a society; no wonder then that I am - unhappy at that consolation being abridged. I pique myself on - no philosophy, but what a long use and knowledge of the world - had given me--the philosophy of indifference to most persons - and events. I do pique myself on not being ridiculous at this - very late period of my life; but when there is not a grain of - passion in my affection for you two, and when you both have - the good sense not to be displeased at my telling you so, - (though I hope you would have despised me for the contrary,) I - am not ashamed to say that your loss is heavy to me; and that - I am only reconciled to it by hoping that a winter in Italy, - and the journeys and sea air, will be very beneficial to two - constitutions so delicate as yours. Adieu! my dearest friends. - It would be tautology to subscribe a name to a letter, every - line of which would suit no other man in the world but the - writer.” - - - - -CHAPTER X. - - Walpole’s love of English Scenery.--Richmond Hill.--Burke on - the French Revolution.--The Berrys at Florence.--Death of - George Selwyn.--London Solitude.--Repairs at Cliveden.--Burke - and Fox.--The Countess of Albany.--Journal of a Day.--Mrs. - Hobart’s Party.--Ancient Trade with India.--Lady Hamilton.--A - Boat Race.--Return of the Berrys.--Horace succeeds to the - Peerage.--Epitaphium Vivi Auctoris.--His Wives.--Mary - Berry.--Closing Years.--Love of Moving Objects.--Visit - from Queen Charlotte.--Death of Conway.--Final Illness of - Horace.--His Last Letter. - - -It cannot, we fear, be said with truth that Walpole had much eye for -the greater beauties of nature. When he recalls the travels of his -youth, it is on the Gallery at Florence and the Fair of Reggio that -his memory dwells, rather than on his ride to the Grande Chartreuse -or his visit to Naples. But of the modest charms of English scenery -he had a real and thorough enjoyment. The enthusiasm expressed in his -Essay on “Modern Gardening” has a more genuine ring about it than is -often found in his writings. In reading it, one does not doubt that -his praises of “the rich blue prospects of Kent, the Thames-watered -views in Berkshire, and the magnificent scale of nature in Yorkshire,” -were something more than compliments to friends who happened to have -seats in those districts. Yet there was one spot which he admired more -than even these captivating scenes. At the bottom of his heart, he -was persuaded that no stream in the world could compare with his own -reaches of the Thames, nor any mountain or hill with Richmond Hill. -And what he believed in his heart, he was not always slow to proclaim -with mouth and pen. Thus in describing the effects of a tempest, he -writes: “The greatest ruin is at my nephew Dysart’s at Ham, where -five-and-thirty of the old elms are blown down. I think it is no -loss, as I hope now one shall see the river from the house. He never -would cut a twig to see the most beautiful scene upon earth.” Again, -after visiting Oatlands, then recently purchased by the Duke of York, -Horace says: “I am returned to my own Thames with delight, and envy -none of the princes of the earth.” He sneers bitterly at Mr. Gilpin, -who “despised the richness, verdure, amenity of Richmond Hill, when -he had seen rocks and lakes in the north; for size and distance of -place add wonderfully to loveliness.” And when he is trying to coax -his Straw-Berries home from Florence, he tells them there is not an -acre on the banks of the Thames that should vail the bonnet to Boboli. -With the exception of an occasional visit paid during the absence of -these ladies to Conway at Henley, the six last summers and autumns -of Walpole’s life seem to have been spent almost uninterruptedly at -Twickenham. Some little time after Mrs. Clive’s death, Cliveden, or -Little Strawberry Hill, was let for a short time to Sir Robert Goodere; -but it seems that, before his young friends left England, Horace had -determined, on their return, to give Miss Berry and her sister this -house for their lives, that he might have them constantly near him. -The design succeeded. Mary and Agnes became attached to the place; it -continued to be their country residence for many years; and when, after -surviving their aged admirer for more than half a century, they died, -both unmarried, within a few months of each other, they were buried -in one grave in Petersham churchyard, opposite Twickenham, “amidst -scenes,” as their epitaph records, “which in life they had frequented -and loved.” - -After despatching the farewell letter given at the end of our last -chapter, Walpole lingered at Strawberry Hill, consoling himself -with the society of Richmond, and with Burke’s “Reflections on the -Revolution in France.” The shock of that earthquake had already made -him half a Tory, and he welcomed the great orator’s declamation with -delight. “His pamphlet,” he tells Miss Berry, “came out this day -se’nnight, and is far superior to what was expected, even by his -warmest admirers. I have read it twice, and though of three hundred -and fifty pages, I wish I could repeat every page by heart. It is -sublime, profound, and gay. The wit and satire are equally brilliant; -and the whole is wise, though in some points he goes too far; yet in -general there is far less want of judgment than could be expected from -_him_. If it could be translated, which, from the wit and metaphors and -allusions, is almost impossible, I should think it would be a classic -book in all countries, except in _present_ France. To their tribunes it -speak daggers; though, unlike them, it uses none. Seven thousand copies -have been taken off by the booksellers already, and a new edition is -preparing. I hope you will see it soon.” In a subsequent letter to -both his favourites, dated Strawberry Hill, Nov. 27, 1790, he says: “I -am still here: the weather, though very rainy, is quite warm; and I -have much more agreeable society at Richmond, with small companies and -better hours, than in town, and shall have till after Christmas, unless -great cold drives me thither.” Two days later, having heard of the -arrival of the Berrys at Florence, he writes to Agnes: - - “Though I write to both at once, and reckon your letters to - come equally from both, yet I delight in seeing your hand with - a pen as well as with a pencil, and you express yourself as - well with the one as with the other. Your part in that which I - have been so happy as to receive this moment, has singularly - obliged me, by your having saved me the terror of knowing you - had a torrent to cross after heavy rain. No cat is so afraid - of water for herself, as I am grown to be for you. That panic, - which will last for many months, adds to my fervent desire - of your returning early in the autumn, that you may have - neither fresh water nor the ‘silky’ ocean to cross in winter. - Precious as our insular situation is, I am ready to wish with - the Frenchman, that you could somehow or other get to it by - land,--‘Oui, c’est une isle toujours, je le sçais bien; mais, - par exemple, en allant d’alentour, n’y auroit-il pas moyen d’y - arriver par terre?’… - - “Richmond, my metropolis, flourishes exceedingly. The Duke - of Clarence arrived at his palace there last night, between - eleven and twelve, as I came from Lady Douglas. His eldest - brother and Mrs. Fitzherbert dine there to-day with the Duke - of Queensberry, as his Grace, who called here this morning, - told me, on the very spot where lived Charles the First, - and where are the portraits of his principal courtiers from - Cornbury. Queensberry has taken to that palace at last, and has - frequently company and music there in an evening. I intend to - go.” - -He was detained in the country longer than he had intended by an attack -of gout; on his return to town he announces his recovery to Lady Ossory. - - “Berkeley Square, Jan. 28, 1791. - - “You and Lord Ossory have been so very good to me, Madam, that - I must pay you the first tribute of my poor reviving fingers--I - believe they never will be their own men again; but as they - have lived so long in your Ladyship’s service, they shall show - their attachment to the last, like Widdrington on his stumps. - I have had another and grievous memento, the death of poor - Selwyn! His end was lovely, most composed and rational. From - eight years old I had known him intimately without a cloud - between us; few knew him so well, and consequently few knew - so well the goodness of his heart and nature. But I will say - no more--_Mon Chancelier vous dira le reste._[121]--No, my - chancellor shall put an end to the session, only concluding, as - Lord Bacon would have done for King James, with an apologue, - ‘His Majesty’s recovery has turned the corner, and exceeding - the old fable, has proved that the stomach can do better - without the limbs than they could without him.’” - -About the same date he describes his life in London to the Berrys: - - “I wish that complaining of people for abandoning me were an - infallible recipe for bringing them _back_! but I doubt it - will not do in acute cases. To-day, a few hours after writing - the latter part of this, appeared Mr. Batt.[122] He asked many - pardons, and I easily forgave him; for the _mortification_ - was not begun. He asked much after you both. I had a crowd - of visits besides; but they all come past two o’clock, and - sweep one another away before any can take root. My evenings - are solitary enough, for I ask nobody to come; nor, indeed, - does anybody’s evening begin till I am going to bed. I have - outlived daylight as well as my contemporaries. What have I - not survived? The Jesuits and the monarchy of France! and - both without a struggle! Semiramis seems to intend to add - Constantinople to the mass of revolutions; but is not her - permanence almost as wonderful as the contrary explosions! I - wish--I wish we may not be actually flippancying ourselves - into an embroil with that Ursa-major of the North Pole. What - a vixen little island are we, if we fight with the Aurora - Borealis and Tippoo Saib at the end of Asia at the same time! - You, damsels, will be like the end of the conundrum, - - “‘You’ve seen the man who saw these wondrous sights.’ - - “I cannot finish this with my own hand, for the gout has - returned a little into my right arm and wrist, and I am not - quite so well as I was yesterday; but I had said my say, and - have little to add. The Duchess of Gordon, t’other night, - coming out of an assembly, said to Dundas, ‘Mr. Dundas, you are - used to speak in public; will you call my servant?’… Adieu! I - will begin to write again myself as soon as I can.” - -In the middle of March he wrote from Strawberry Hill to Miss Berry: -“As I have mended considerably for the last four days, and as we have -had a fortnight of soft warm weather, and a south-west wind to-day, I -have ventured hither for a change of air, and to give orders about some -repairs at Cliveden; which, by the way, Mr. Henry Bunbury, two days -ago, proposed to take off my hands for his life. I really do not think -I accepted his offer.” All the spring he vibrates between London and -Twickenham. He writes again from the latter place to Miss Berry towards -the end of April: - - “To-day, when the town is staring at the sudden resignation of - the Duke of Leeds,[123] asking the reason, and gaping to know - who will succeed him, I am come hither with an indifference - that might pass for philosophy; as the true cause is not known, - which it seldom is. Don’t tell Europe; but I really am come - to look at the repairs of Cliveden, and how they go on; not - without an eye to the lilacs and the apple-blossoms: for even - _self_ can find a corner to wriggle into, though friendship may - fit out the vessel. Mr. Berry may, perhaps, wish I had more - political curiosity; but as I must return to town on Monday for - Lord Cholmondeley’s wedding, I may hear before the departure of - the post, if the seals are given.” - -Among the letters written to Miss Berry from town during this season, -one gives an account of the famous quarrel between Burke and Fox in the -House of Commons: - - “Mr. Fox had most imprudently thrown out a panegyric on the - French Revolution. His most considerable friends were much - hurt, and protested to him against such sentiments. Burke went - much farther, and vowed to attack these opinions. Great pains - were taken to prevent such altercation, and the Prince of Wales - is said to have written a dissuasive letter to Burke; but he - was immovable; and on Friday, on the Quebec Bill, he broke out, - and sounded a trumpet against the plot, which he denounced - as carrying on here. Prodigious clamours and interruption - arose from Mr. Fox’s friends; but he, though still applauding - the French, burst into tears and lamentations on the loss of - Burke’s friendship, and endeavoured to make atonement; but - in vain, though Burke wept too. In short, it was the most - affecting scene possible; and undoubtedly an _unique_ one, for - both the commanders were earnest and _sincere_.[124] Yesterday, - a second act was expected; but mutual friends prevailed, that - the contest should not be renewed: nay, on the same Bill, Mr. - Fox made a profession of his faith, and declared he would - venture his life in support of the _present_ constitution by - Kings, Lords, and Commons. In short, I never knew a wiser - dissertation, if the newspapers deliver it justly; and I think - all the writers in England cannot give more profound sense to - Mr. Fox than he possesses. I know no more particulars, having - seen nobody this morning yet.” - -Another refers to the trial of Hastings, and sundry matters of public -interest: - - “After several weeks spent in search of precedents for - trials[125] ceasing or not on a dissolution of Parliament, - the Peers on Monday sat till three in the morning on the - report; when the Chancellor and Lord Hawkesbury fought for the - cessation, but were beaten by a large majority; which showed - that Mr. Pitt has more weight (at present) in that House too, - than--the diamonds of Bengal. Lord Hawkesbury protested. The - trial recommences on Monday next, and has already cost the - public fourteen thousand pounds; the accused, I suppose, much - more. - - “The Countess of Albany[126] is not only in England, in - London, but at this very moment, I believe, in the palace of - St. James’s--not restored by as rapid a revolution as the - French, but, as was observed last night at supper at Lady - Mount-Edgcumbe’s, by that topsy-turvy-hood that characterises - the present age. Within these two months the Pope has been - burnt at Paris; Madame du Barry, mistress of Louis Quinze, - has dined with the Lord Mayor of London, and the Pretender’s - widow is presented to the Queen of Great Britain! She is to be - introduced by her great-grandfather’s niece, the young Countess - of Aylesbury. That curiosity should bring her hither, I do - not quite wonder--still less, that she abhorred her husband; - but methinks it is not very well-bred to his family, nor very - sensible; but a new way of _passing eldest_.[127] - - “Thursday night. - - “Well! I have had an exact account of the interview of the - two Queens, from one who stood close to them. The Dowager was - announced as Princess of Stolberg. She was well-dressed, and - not at all embarrassed. The King talked to her a good deal; - but about her passage, the sea, and general topics: the Queen - in the same way, but less. Then she stood between the Dukes of - Gloucester and Clarence, and had a good deal of conversation - with the former; who, perhaps, may have met her in Italy. Not - a word between her and the Princesses; nor did I hear of the - Prince; but he was there, and probably spoke to her. The Queen - looked at her earnestly. To add to the singularity of the day, - it is the Queen’s birth-day. Another odd accident: at the Opera - at the Pantheon, Madame d’Albany was carried into the King’s - box, and sat there. It is not of a piece with her going to - Court, that she seals with the royal arms.… - - “Boswell has at last published his long-promised ‘Life of Dr. - Johnson,’ in two volumes in quarto. I will give you an account - of it when I have gone through it. I have already perceived, - that in writing the history of Hudibras, Ralpho has not forgot - himself--nor will others, I believe, forget _him_!” - -The next is also to Miss Berry: - - “Berkeley Square, May 26, 1791. - - “I am rich in letters from you: I received that by Lord Elgin’s - courier first, as you expected, and its elder the next day. You - tell me mine entertain you; _tant mieux_. It is my wish, but - my wonder; for I live so little in the world, that I do not - know the present generation by sight: for, though I pass by - them in the streets, the hats with valences, the folds above - the chin of the ladies, and the dirty shirts and shaggy hair - of the young men, who have levelled nobility almost as much as - the mobility of France have, have confounded all individuality. - Besides, if I did go to public places and assemblies, which - my going to roost earlier prevents, the bats and owls do not - begin to fly abroad till far in the night, when they begin to - see and be seen. However, one of the empresses of fashion, - the Duchess of Gordon, uses fifteen or sixteen hours of her - four-and-twenty. I heard her journal of last Monday. She first - went to Handel’s music in the Abbey; she then clambered over - the benches, and went to Hastings’s trial in the Hall; after - dinner, to the play; then to Lady Lucan’s assembly; after that - to Ranelagh, and returned to Mrs. Hobart’s faro-table; gave a - ball herself in the evening of that morning, into which she - must have got a good way; and set out for Scotland the next - day. Hercules could not have achieved a quarter of her labours - in the same space of time.” - -Before the middle of June he is settled at Twickenham. He condoles with -the Berrys: - - “Strawberry Hill, June 14, 1791. - - “I pity you! what a dozen or fifteen uninteresting letters - are you going to receive! for here I am, unlikely to have - anything to tell you worth sending. You had better come back - incontinently--but pray do not prophesy any more; you have - been the death of our summer, and we are in close mourning for - it in coals and ashes. It froze hard last night: I went out - for a moment to look at my haymakers, and was starved. The - contents of an English June are, hay and ice, orange-flowers - and rheumatisms! I am now cowering over the fire. Mrs. Hobart - had announced a rural breakfast at Sans-Souci last Saturday; - nothing being so pastoral as a fat grandmother in a row of - houses on Ham Common. It rained early in the morning: she - despatched post-boys, for want of Cupids and zephyrs, to stop - the nymphs and shepherds who tend their flocks in Pall Mall and - St. James’s Street; but half of them missed the couriers and - arrived. Mrs. Montagu was more splendid yesterday morning, and - breakfasted seven hundred persons on opening her great room, - and the room with the hangings of feathers.[128] The King and - Queen had been with her last week. I should like to have heard - the orations she had prepared on the occasion. I was neither - City-mouse nor Country-mouse. I did dine at Fulham on Saturday - with the Bishop of London [Porteus]. Mrs. Boscawen, Mrs. - Garrick, and Hannah More were there; and Dr. Beattie, whom I - had never seen. He is quiet, simple, and cheerful, and pleased - me. There ends my tale, this instant Tuesday! How shall I fill - a couple of pages more by Friday morning! Oh! ye ladies on the - Common, and ye uncommon ladies in London, have pity on a poor - gazetteer, and supply me with eclogues or royal panegyrics! - Moreover--or rather more under--I have had no letter from you - these ten days, though the east wind has been as constant as - Lord Derby.[129] I say not this in reproach, as you are so - kindly punctual; but as it stints me from having a single - paragraph to answer. I do not admire specific responses to - every article; but they are great resources on a dearth. - - “Madame de Boufflers is ill of a fever, and the Duchesse de - Biron goes next week to Switzerland;--_mais qu’est que cela - vous fait?_” - - “June 23, 1791. - - “Woe is me! I have not an atom of news to send you, but that - the second edition of Mother Hubbard’s Tale [Mrs. Hobart’s - party] was again spoiled on Saturday last by the rain; yet - she had an ample assemblage of company from London and the - neighbourhood. The late Queen of France, Madame du Barry, was - there; and the late Queen of England, Madame d’Albany, was not. - The former, they say, is as much altered as her kingdom, and - does not retain a trace of her former powers. I saw her on a - throne in the chapel of Versailles; and though then pleasing in - face and person, I thought her _un peu passée_. - - “What shall I tell you more? that Lord Hawkesbury is added to - the Cabinet-Council--_que vous importe_? and that Dr. Robertson - has published a ‘Disquisition into the Trade of the Ancients - with India;’ a sensible work--but that will be no news to you - till you return. It was a peddling trade in those days. They - now and then picked up an elephant’s tooth, or a nutmeg, or one - pearl, that served Venus for a pair of pendants, when Antony - had toasted Cleopatra in a bumper of its fellow; which shows - that a couple was imported: but, alack! the Romans were so - ignorant, that waiters from the Tres Tabernæ, in St. Apollo’s - Street, did not carry home sacks of diamonds enough to pave the - Capitol--I hate exaggerations, and therefore I do not say, to - pave the Appian Way. One author, I think, does say, that the - wife of Fabius Pictor, whom he sold to a Proconsul, did present - Livia[130] with an ivory bed, inlaid with Indian gold; but, - as Dr. Robertson does not mention it, to be sure he does not - believe the fact well authenticated.” - -[Illustration: _Sir Joshua Reynolds. Pinx._ _A. Dawson. Ph. Sc._ _J. -Raphael Smith. Sc._ - -_Mrs. Montagu._] - -In one of our last extracts, Walpole refers to some of the French -exiles, who were now assembled in large numbers at Richmond. Shortly -afterwards came the news of the escape and recapture of the French -King and Queen. Horace writes, “I have been very much with the wretched -fugitives at Richmond. To them it is perfect despair; besides trembling -for their friends at Paris!” Nevertheless, their distresses did not -prevent them from taking part in the gaieties of Richmond: - - “Berkeley Square, Tuesday, Aug. 23, 1791. - - “On Saturday evening I was at the Duke of Queensberry’s - (at Richmond, _s’entend_) with a small company: and there - were Sir William Hamilton and Mrs. Harte;[131] who, on the - 3rd of next month, previous to their departure, is to be - made Madame l’Envoyée à Naples, the Neapolitan Queen having - promised to receive her in that quality. Here she cannot be - presented, where only such over-virtuous wives as the Duchess - of Kingston and Mrs. Hastings--who could go with a husband in - each hand--are admitted. Why the Margravine of Anspach, with - the same pretensions, was not, I do not understand; perhaps - she did not attempt it. But I forget to retract, and make - _amende honorable_ to Mrs. Harte. I had only heard of her - attitudes; and those, in dumb show, I have not yet seen. Oh! - but she sings admirably; has a very fine, strong voice; is an - excellent buffa, and an astonishing tragedian. She sung Nina in - the highest perfection; and there her attitudes were a whole - theatre of grace and various expressions. - - “The next evening I was again at Queensberry House, where - the Comtesse Emilie de Boufflers played on her harp, and - the Princesse di Castelcigala, the Neapolitan minister’s - wife, danced one of her country dances, with castanets, very - prettily, with her husband. Madame du Barry was there too, and - I had a good deal of frank conversation with her about Monsieur - de Choiseul; having been at Paris at the end of his reign and - at the beginning of hers, and of which I knew so much by my - intimacy with the Duchesse de Choiseul. - - “On Monday was the boat-race. I was in the great room at - the Castle, with the Duke of Clarence, Lady Di, Lord Robert - Spencer, and the House of Bouverie, to see the boats start - from the bridge to Thistleworth, and back to a tent erected on - Lord Dysart’s meadow, just before Lady Di’s windows; whither - we went to see them arrive, and where we had breakfast. For - the second heat, I sat in my coach on the bridge; and did not - stay for the third. The day had been coined on purpose, with - my favourite south-east wind. The scene, both up the river and - down, was what only Richmond upon earth can exhibit. The crowds - on those green velvet meadows and on the shores, the yachts, - barges, pleasure and small boats, and the windows and gardens - lined with spectators, were so delightful, that when I came - home from that vivid show, I thought Strawberry looked as dull - and solitary as a hermitage. At night there was a ball at the - Castle, and illuminations, with the Duke’s cypher, etc., in - coloured lamps, as were the houses of his Royal Highness’s - tradesmen. I went again in the evening to the French ladies on - the Green, where there was a bonfire; but, you may believe, not - to the ball.” - -At the end of September, Walpole writes to Hannah More: - - “I thank you most cordially for your inquiry after _my_ wives. - I am in the utmost perplexity of mind about them; torn between - hopes and fears. I believe them set out from Florence on their - return since yesterday se’ennight, and consequently feel - all the joy and impatience of expecting them in five or six - weeks: but then, besides fears of roads, bad inns, accidents, - heats and colds, and the sea to cross in November at last, - all my satisfaction is dashed by the uncertainty whether - they come through Germany or France. I have advised, begged, - implored, that it may not be through those Iroquois, Lestryons, - Anthropophagi, the Franks; and then, hearing passports were - abolished, and the roads more secure, I half consented, as they - wished it, and the road is much shorter; and then I repented, - and have contradicted myself again. And now I know not which - route they will take; nor shall enjoy any comfort from the - thoughts of their return, till they are returned safe. - - “I am happy at and honour Miss Burney’s resolution in casting - away golden, or rather gilt chains: others, out of vanity, - would have worn them till they had eaten into the bone. On - that charming young woman’s chapter[132] I agree with you - perfectly.” - -Shortly after the date of the last letter, the Berrys were back in -England. Their stay in Italy, which had been determined partly by -motives of economy, was shortened in consequence of Walpole’s eagerness -for their return. In his anxiety, he entreated them to draw on his -bankers in case of any financial difficulty; and in November, 1791, -he had the satisfaction of installing them at Little Strawberry Hill. -This was not accomplished without some vexation both to him and them. -An ill-natured rumour, which found its way into the newspapers, -attributing the attachment shown by the Berry family for Walpole to -interested motives, aroused the indignation of Miss Berry, and for -the moment threatened to produce an estrangement. The cloud, however, -blew over: the intimacy was resumed, and in a subsequent letter to the -sisters, the old man expresses his gratitude at finding that they could -bear to pass half their time with an antediluvian without discovering -any ennui or disgust. - -Almost immediately after he had recovered the Berrys, Walpole became -Earl of Orford by the death of his nephew. He refers to this event, and -his feelings respecting it, in the following letter to Lady Ossory: - - “Berkeley Square, Dec. 10, 1791. - - “Your Ladyship has so long accustomed me to your goodness - and partiality, that I am not surprised at your being kind - on an occasion that is generally productive of satisfaction. - That is not quite the case with me. Years ago, a title would - have given me no pleasure, and at any time the management of - a landed estate, which I am too ignorant to manage, would - have been a burthen. That I am now to possess, should it - prove a considerable acquisition to my fortune, which I much - doubt, I would not purchase at the rate of the three weeks - of misery which I have suffered, and which made me very ill, - though I am now quite recovered. It is a story much too full - of circumstances, and too disagreeable to me to be couched - in a letter; some time or other I may perhaps be at leisure - and composed enough to relate in general.--At present I have - been so overwhelmed with business that I am now writing these - few lines as fast as I can, to save the post, as none goes - to-morrow, and I should be vexed not to thank your Ladyship and - Lord Ossory by the first that departs. As, however, I owe it to - you and to my poor nephew, I will just say that I am perfectly - content. He has given me the whole Norfolk estate, heavily - charged, I believe, but that is indifferent. I had reason - to think that he had disgraced, by totally omitting me--but - unhappy as his intellects often were, and beset as he was by - miscreants, he has restored me to my birth-right, and I shall - call myself obliged to him, and be grateful to his memory, as - I am to your Ladyship, and shall be, as I have so long been, - your devoted servant, by whatever name I may be forced to call - myself.” - -This letter has no signature. The writer for some time rarely used -his new title when he could avoid it. Some of his letters after his -succession to the peerage are signed “the late H. W.,” and some, “the -uncle of the late Earl of Orford.” In 1792, he wrote the following -“Epitaphium vivi Auctoris:” - - “An estate and an earldom at seventy-four! - Had I sought them or wished them ’twould add one fear more, - That of making a countess when almost fourscore. - But Fortune, who scatters her gifts out of season, - Though unkind to my limbs, has still left me my reason, - And whether she lowers or lifts me I’ll try, - In the plain simple style I have lived in, to die: - For ambition too humble, for meanness too high.” - -He could not escape the suspicion of having meditated the folly -referred to in these lines. His much talked of devotion to his “sweet -damsels” rendered this impossible. There is a tradition, handed down -by the Lord Lansdowne of the last generation, that he would have gone -through the ceremony of marriage with either sister, to make sure of -their society, and confer rank and fortune on the family; as he had -the power of charging the Orford estate with a jointure of £2,000 a -year. There is just so much evidence in support of this story that he -does appear to have avowed in society his readiness to do this for -Mary Berry, who was clearly the object of his preference. But he does -not seem to have ever made any such proposal to her, nor even to have -spoken to her on the subject. In a letter to a friend written at the -time, Miss Berry says: “Although I have no doubt that Lord Orford said -to Lady D. every word that she repeated--for last winter, at the time -the C’s.[133] talked about the matter, he went about saying all this -and more to everybody that would hear him--but I always thought it -rather to frighten and punish them than seriously wishing it himself. -And why should he? when, without the ridicule or the trouble of a -marriage, he enjoys almost as much of my society, and every comfort -from it, that he could in the nearest connexion?” Walpole was almost -certainly of the same opinion as Miss Berry. He would have shrunk from -the lasting stigma of a marriage, though he was content to bear passing -jests which, perhaps, the attention of his young friends rendered even -agreeable. In May, 1792, he writes to Lady Ossory: - - “I am indeed much obliged for the transcript of the letter - on my ‘Wives.’ Miss Agnes has a _finesse_ in her eyes and - countenance that does not propose itself to you, but is very - engaging on observation, and has often made herself preferred - to her sister, who has the most exactly fine features, and - only wants colour to make her face as perfect as her graceful - person; indeed neither has good health nor the air of it. Miss - Mary’s eyes are grave, but she is not so herself; and, having - much more application than her sister, she converses readily, - and with great intelligence, on all subjects. Agnes is more - reserved, but her compact sense very striking, and always to - the purpose. In short, they are extraordinary beings, and I am - proud of my partiality for them; and since the ridicule can - only fall on me, and not on them, I care not a straw for its - being said that I am in love with one of them--people shall - choose which: it is as much with both as either, and I am - infinitely too old to regard the _qu’en dit on_.” - -Nothing could be more sentimental than Walpole’s language to and about -these ladies, but his admiration and regard for them were rational -enough. There was no dotage in the praises he lavished on their -attractions and accomplishments. However much of their first social -success may have been due to him, they proved able to perpetuate -and extend it by their personal qualities alone, without the aid -of large fortune or family connexion. And the tenor of his latest -letters seems to show that this old man of the world derived benefit -as well as amusement from their conversation. Their refinement and -unpresuming moral worth were perhaps the highest influences to which -his worn brain and heart were susceptible. One cannot help remarking -that the respect with which he treats Mary Berry is a much stronger -feeling than that which he displays for Hannah More. Though a good -deal younger, Miss Berry had travelled more, and seen more of society, -than the excellent schoolmistress from the West of England; and -with this more varied experience came wider sympathies and larger -toleration. Madam Hannah’s fervent desires for the improvement of -her friends, though always manifest, were not always accompanied by -skill to make her little homilies acceptable. Her letters to Walpole -betray some consciousness of a deficiency in this respect, and her -embarrassment was not lost upon “the pleasant Horace,” as she called -her correspondent. He complained of the too great civility and cold -complimentality of her style. The lady of Cowslip Green, who dedicated -small poems to him, adorned her letters with literary allusions, and -dropped occasional hints for his benefit, was always, in his eyes, -a blue-stocking; and this the ladies of Cliveden never were. He was -incessantly divided between his wish to treat the elder lady with -deference, and a mischievous inclination to startle her notions of -propriety. When he is tempted to transgress, he checks himself in some -characteristic phrase: “I could titter _à plusieurs reprises_; but I -am too old to be improper, and you are too modest to be _impropered_ -to.” But the temptation presently returns. In short, Walpole subscribed -to Miss More’s charities, echoed her denunciations of the slave-trade, -applauded her Cheap Repository Tracts, and was ever Saint Hannah’s most -sincere friend and humble servant; but he could not help indemnifying -himself now and then by a smile at her effusive piety and bustling -benevolence. On the other hand, the entire and unqualified respect -which Lord Orford entertained for Miss Berry’s abilities and character -was shown, not merely by the particular expressions of affection and -esteem so profusely scattered through his letters to her, and by -the whole tone of the correspondence between them, but still more -decisively by the circumstance that he entrusted to her the care of -preparing a posthumous edition of his works, and bequeathed to her -charge all necessary papers for that purpose. This he did in fact, for -though in his will he appointed her father[134] as his editor, it was -well understood that that was merely a device to avoid the publication -of her name, and the task was actually performed by her alone. - -During the rest of Walpole’s life, three-fourths of each year were -spent by him in constant association with the Berrys either at -Twickenham or in London. The months which they employed in visits -to other friends or to watering-places, he passed for the most part -at Strawberry Hill, sending forth constant letters to Yorkshire, -Cheltenham, Broadstairs, or where-ever else his wives might be staying. -He laughs at his own assiduity. “I put myself in mind of a scene in -one of Lord Lansdowne’s plays, where two ladies being on the stage, -and one going off, the other says, ‘Heaven, she is gone! Well, I must -go and write to her.’ This was just my case yesterday.” The postman at -Cheltenham complained of being broken down by the continual arrival -of letters from Twickenham. At other times, Walpole’s pen was now -comparatively idle. When in town, he beguiled the hours as best he -could with the customers who still resorted to his coffee-house to -discuss the news of the day. But he generally preferred his villa till -quite the end of autumn. “What could I do with myself in London?” he -asks Miss Berry. “All my playthings are here, and I have no playfellows -left there! Reading composes little of my pastime either in town or -country. A catalogue of books and prints, or a dull history of a -county, amuse me sufficiently; for now I cannot open a French book, as -it would keep alive ideas that I want to banish from my thoughts.” At -Strawberry, accordingly, he remained, trifling with his endless store -of medals and engravings, and watching from his windows the traffic up -and down the Thames. He has expressed his fondness for moving objects -in a passage dated in December, 1793: - - “I am glad Lord and Lady Warwick are pleased with their new - villa [at Isleworth]: it is a great favourite with me. In my - brother’s time [Sir Edward W.’s] I used to sit with delight - in the bow-window in the great room, for besides the lovely - scene of Richmond, with the river, park, and barges, there - is an incessant ferry for foot passengers between Richmond - and Isleworth, just under the Terrace; and on Sundays Lord - Shrewsbury pays for all the Catholics that come to his chapel - from the former to the latter, and Mrs. Keppel has counted - an hundred in one day, at a penny each. I have a passion for - seeing passengers, provided they do pass; and though I have - the river, the road, and two foot-paths before my Blue Room - at Strawberry, I used to think my own house dull whenever I - came from my brother’s. Such a partiality have I for moving - objects, that in advertisements of country-houses I have - thought it a recommendation when there was a N.B. of _three - stage-coaches pass by the door every day_. On the contrary, I - have an aversion to a park, and especially for a walled park, - in which the capital event is the coming of the cows to water. - A park-wall with ivy on it and fern near it, and a back parlour - in London in summer, with a dead creeper and a couple of sooty - sparrows, are my strongest ideas of melancholy solitude. _A - pleasing melancholy_ is a very august personage, but not at all - good company.” - -This love of life and society clung to him till the end. -Notwithstanding his crippled condition, he entertained the Duchess of -York at Strawberry Hill in the autumn of 1793, and received a visit -from Queen Charlotte there as late as the summer of 1795. He was -probably honest in disclaiming all vanity at being the poorest Earl in -England. When pressed by Lady Ossory to take his seat in the House of -Peers, he replied: “I know that having determined never to take that -unwelcome seat, I should only make myself ridiculous by fancying it -could _signify_ a straw whether I take it or not. If I have anything of -character, it must dangle on my being consistent. I quitted and abjured -Parliament near twenty years ago: I never repented, and I will not -contradict myself now.” If, however, there was any occasion on which -his earldom gave him pleasure, it was undoubtedly when the Seneschal -of Strawberry Castle was to do homage to Royal guests. Referring to -Macaulay’s taunt that Walpole had the soul of a gentleman usher, Miss -Berry remarks that the critic only repeated what Lord Orford often said -of himself, that from his knowledge of old ceremonials and etiquettes -he was sure that in a former state of existence he must have been a -gentleman usher about the time of Elizabeth. Walpole sends Conway a -brief account of the Queen’s visit: - - “Strawberry Hill, July 2, 1795. - - “As you are, or have been, in town, your daughter [Mrs. Damer] - will have told you in what a bustle I am, preparing, not to - visit, but to receive an invasion of royalties to-morrow; - and cannot even escape them, like Admiral Cornwallis, though - seeming to make a semblance; for I am to wear a sword, and have - appointed two aides-de-camp, my nephews, George and Horace - Churchill. If I _fall_, as ten to one but I do, to be sure - it will be a superb tumble, at the feet of a Queen and eight - daughters of Kings: for, besides the six Princesses, I am to - have the Duchess of York and the Princess of Orange! Woe is me, - at seventy-eight, and with scarce a hand and foot to my back! - Adieu! - - “Yours, etc., - - “A POOR OLD REMNANT.” - - “July 7, 1795. - - “I am not dead of fatigue with my Royal visitors, as I - expected to be, though I was on my poor lame feet three whole - hours. Your daughter, who kindly assisted me in doing the - honours, will tell you the particulars, and how prosperously I - succeeded. The Queen was uncommonly condescending and gracious, - and deigned to drink my health when I presented her with the - last glass, and to thank me for all my attentions. Indeed, - my memory _de la vieille cour_ was but once in default. As I - had been assured that her Majesty would be attended by her - Chamberlain, yet was not, I had no glove ready when I received - her at the step of her coach; yet she honoured me with her - hand to lead her upstairs; nor did I recollect my omission - when I led her down again. Still, though gloveless, I did not - squeeze the royal hand, as Vice-Chamberlain Smith did to Queen - Mary.”[135] - -Conway died suddenly two days after the date of the last letter. He -had received the truncheon of a Field-Marshall less than two years -before. Like his old friend Horace, he attained the last distinction -of his life when he was too old to enjoy it. Horace lingered on twenty -months longer in constantly increasing debility. In the latter part of -December, 1796, he was seen to be sinking, and his friends prevailed -on him to remove from Strawberry Hill to Berkeley Square, to be nearer -assistance in case of any sudden seizure. The account of his last -days is thus given by Miss Berry: “When not immediately suffering -from pain, his mind was tranquil and cheerful. He was still capable -of being amused, and of taking some part in conversation; but during -the last weeks of his life, when fever was superadded to his other -ills, his mind became subject to the cruel hallucination of supposing -himself neglected and abandoned by the only persons to whom his memory -clung, and whom he always desired to see. In vain they recalled to -his recollection how recently they had left him, and how short had -been their absence; it satisfied him for the moment, but the same idea -recurred as soon as he had lost sight of them. At last nature, sinking -under the exhaustion of weakness, obliterated all ideas but those of -mere existence, which ended without a struggle on the 2nd of March, -1797.” - -Horace Walpole’s last letter was addressed, as was fitting, to Lady -Ossory, then almost the sole survivor of his early friends: - - “Jan. 15, 1797. - - “MY DEAR MADAM,-- - - “You distress me infinitely by showing my idle notes, which I - cannot conceive can amuse anybody. My old-fashioned breeding - impels me every now and then to reply to the letters you honour - me with writing, but in truth very unwillingly, for I seldom - can have anything particular to say; I scarce go out of my own - house, and then only to two or three private places, where I - see nobody that really knows anything, and what I learn comes - from newspapers, that collect intelligence from coffee-houses; - consequently what I neither believe nor report. At home I see - only a few charitable elders, except about four-score nephews - and nieces of various ages, who are each brought to me about - once a year, to stare at me as the Methusaleh of the family, - and they can only speak of their own contemporaries, which - interest me no more than if they talked of their dolls, or bats - and balls. Must not the result of all this, Madam, make me a - very entertaining correspondent? And can such letters be worth - showing? or can I have any spirit when so old, and reduced to - dictate? - - “Oh! my good Madam, dispense with me from such a task, and - think how it must add to it to apprehend such letters being - shown. Pray send me no more such laurels, which I desire no - more than their leaves when decked with a scrap of tinsel, - and stuck on twelfth-cakes that lie on the shop-boards of - pastrycooks at Christmas. I shall be quite content with a sprig - of rosemary thrown after me, when the parson of the parish - commits my dust to dust. Till then, pray, Madam, accept the - resignation of your - - “Ancient Servant, - - “ORFORD.” - -Besides numerous portraits of Horace Walpole, we have two pen-and-ink -sketches of him, one by Miss Hawkins, the other by Pinkerton. The -lady describes[136] him as she knew him before 1772: “His figure was -not merely tall, but more properly long and slender to excess; his -complexion, and particularly his hands, of a most unhealthy paleness. -His eyes were remarkably bright and penetrating, very dark and lively; -his voice was not strong, but his tones were extremely pleasant.… I do -not remember his common gait; he always entered a room in that style of -affected delicacy which fashion had then made almost natural: _chapeau -bas_ between his hands, as if he wished to compress it, or under his -arm; knees bent, and feet on tiptoe, as if afraid of a wet floor. His -dress in visiting was most usually, in summer, when I most saw him, -a lavender suit, the waistcoat embroidered with a little silver, or -of white silk worked in the tambour; partridge silk stockings, and -gold buckles; ruffles and frill, generally lace. I remember, when a -child, thinking him very much under-dressed, if at any time, except -in mourning, he wore hemmed cambric. In summer no powder, but his wig -combed straight, and showing his very smooth, pale forehead, and -queued behind; in winter, powder.” - -Miss Hawkins, who was recording in her old age the impressions of -her girlhood, is clearly mistaken as to the height of Walpole’s -figure. Pinkerton paints him as he was at a later period, and adds -several details of his domestic habits. We give the main part of -the antiquary’s description,[137] and generally in his own words: -The person of Horace Walpole was short and slender, but compact and -neatly formed. When viewed from behind, he had somewhat of a boyish -appearance, owing partly to the simplicity of his dress. His laugh was -forced and uncouth, and his smile not the most pleasing. His walk was -enfeebled by the gout, which not only affected his feet, but attacked -his hands to such a degree that his fingers were always swelled and -deformed, and discharged large chalk-stones once or twice a year. -When at Strawberry Hill, he generally rose about nine o’clock, and -appeared in the breakfast-room, his favourite Blue Room overlooking -the Thames. His approach was proclaimed, and attended, by a favourite -little dog, the legacy of the Marquise du Deffand; and which ease and -attention had rendered so fat that it could hardly move. The dog had -a liberal share of his breakfast; and as soon as the meal was over, -Walpole would mix a large basinful of bread and milk, and throw it -out of the window for the squirrels, who presently came down from the -high trees to enjoy their allowance. Dinner was served in the small -parlour, or large dining-room, as it happened; in winter, generally -the former. His valet supported him downstairs; and he ate most -moderately of chicken, pheasant, or any light food. Pastry he disliked, -as difficult of digestion, though he would taste a morsel of venison -pie. Never but once that he drank two glasses of white wine,[138] -did Pinkerton see him taste any liquor, except ice-water. A pail of -ice was placed under the table, in which stood a decanter of water, -from which he supplied himself with his favourite beverage. If his -guests liked even a moderate quantity of wine, they must have called -for it during dinner, for almost instantly after he rang the bell to -order coffee upstairs. Thither he would pass about five o’clock; and -generally resuming his place on the sofa, would sit till two o’clock in -the morning, in miscellaneous chit-chat, full of singular anecdotes, -strokes of wit, and acute observations, occasionally sending for books -or curiosities, or passing to the library, as any reference happened -to arise in conversation. After his coffee he tasted nothing; but the -snuff-box of _tabac d’étrennes_, from Fribourg’s, was not forgotten, -and was replenished from a canister lodged in an ancient marble urn -of great thickness, which stood in the window-seat, and served to -secure its moisture and rich flavour. Such was a private rainy day of -Horace Walpole. The forenoon quickly passed in roaming through the -numerous apartments of the house, in which, after twenty visits, -still something new would occur; and he was indeed constantly adding -fresh acquisitions. Sometimes a walk in the grounds would intervene, -on which occasions he would go out in his slippers through a thick -dew; and he never wore a hat.[139] He said that, on his first visit -to Paris, he was ashamed of his effeminacy, when he saw every little -meagre Frenchman, whom even he could have thrown down with a breath, -walking without a hat, which he could not do without a certainty of -that disease which the Germans say is endemical in England, and is -termed by the nation _le catch-cold_. The first trial cost him a slight -fever, but he got over it, and never caught cold afterwards: draughts -of air, damp rooms, windows open at his back, all situations were alike -to him in this respect. He would even show some little offence at any -solicitude expressed by his guests on such an occasion; and would say, -with a half smile of seeming crossness, “My back is the same with my -face, and my neck is like my nose.” - -THE END. - -BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD AND LONDON. - - - - -FOOTNOTES - - -[1] “The Letters of Horace Walpole, Earl of Orford, edited by Peter -Cunningham.” - -[2] A second edition was published in 1866. - -[3] _E.g._, in Jesse’s “Memoirs of George III.” - -[4] Or in 1732, if the dates of some letters published in _Notes and -Queries_, 4th Series, vol. iii., p. 2, can be trusted. But as the -second of these letters, the date of which is given as Sep. 18, 1732, -refers to the death of Walpole’s mother, and as we know, from his own -statement, that Lady Walpole died Aug. 20, 1737, there seems to be an -error. - -[5] The story that Horace was of Hervey blood was first published in -some Introductory Anecdotes prefixed to the later editions of the -works of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu. These anecdotes were contributed -by Lady Louisa Stuart, daughter of Lord Bute, the Prime Minister, -and grand-daughter of Lady Mary. Her statement about Walpole, though -generally accepted, has perhaps received more credit than it deserves, -but _se non è vero, è ben trovato_. The similarity, both in matter and -composition, between the memoirs of Lord Hervey and those of Horace -Walpole is certainly remarkable. - -[6] Born in July, 1719. He was second son of the first Lord Conway -by his third wife, Charlotte Shorter, sister of Lady Walpole. He was -Secretary in Ireland during the vice-royalty of William, fourth Duke -of Devonshire; then Groom of the Bedchamber to George II. and to -George III.; became Secretary of State in 1765; Lieutenant-General of -the Ordnance in 1770; Commander-in-Chief in 1782; and was created a -Field-Marshal in 1793. He married the Dowager Countess of Aylesbury, by -whom he had an only child, Mrs. Damer, the sculptor, to whom Walpole -left Strawberry Hill. - -[7] One of his papers in _The World_ contains an account of an escape -which he had, in 1749, of being shot by highwaymen in Hyde Park. His -face was grazed by a ball from the pistol of one of his assailants, -which went off accidentally before aim had been taken. An allusion to -this adventure will be found in one of our extracts. - -[8] Letter to John Pinkerton, Dec. 26, 1791. - -[9] “I have been called a Republican; I never was quite that.”--Walpole -to Lady Ossory, July 7, 1782. - -[10] Letter to Mann, July 10, 1782. - -[11] Letter to Lady Ossory, July 7, 1782. - -[12] Miss Berry. - -[13] Letter to Sir Horace Mann. - -[14] Letter to Sir Horace Mann, July 1, 1762. - -[15] Son of Brigadier-General Edward Montagu, and nephew to the second -Earl of Halifax. He was member of Parliament for Northampton, usher of -the Black Rod in Ireland during the lieutenancy of the Earl of Halifax, -ranger of Salsey Forest, and private secretary to Lord North when -Chancellor of the Exchequer. - -[16] Had Chatterton appealed simply to Walpole’s charity, he would not -have been rejected. This was the opinion of those who knew Horace best. -But, apart from the imposture sought to be palmed on him, Walpole did -not profess to be a patron of literature or the arts. An artist has -pencils, he would say, and an author has pens, and the public must -reward them as it sees fit. - -[17] Thus described by Walpole in his account of the pictures at -Houghton: “The Virgin and Child, a most beautiful, bright, and capital -picture, by Dominichino: bought out of the Zambeccari Palace at Bologna -by Horace Walpole, junior.” - -[18] The Princess of Campoflorido. - -[19] Lord Orford’s successor as Chancellor of the Exchequer. - -[20] When he [Kilmarnock] beheld the fatal scaffold covered with black -cloth; the executioner, with his axe and his assistants; the saw-dust, -which was soon to be drenched with his blood; the coffin, prepared to -receive the limbs which were yet warm with life; above all, the immense -display of human countenances which surrounded the scaffold like a sea, -all eyes being bent on the sad object of the preparation,--his natural -feelings broke forth in a whisper to the friend on whose arm he leaned, -“Home, this is terrible!” No sign of indecent timidity, however, -affected his behaviour.--_Sir Walter Scott’s Tales of my Grandfather._ - -[21] Afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury. Walpole had a strong and -unreasonable prejudice against him. - -[22] Thomas Sherlock, Master of the Temple; first, Bishop of Salisbury, -and afterwards of London.--WALPOLE. - -[23] She was daughter of the Duke of Grafton. - -[24] His gait was so singular, that he was called Peter Shamble. - -[25] Mrs. Lloyd of Spring Gardens, to whom the Earl of Haddington was -married this year. - -[26] An Irish adventurer, whose fine person had induced the Dowager -Duchess of Manchester to marry him. He was afterwards created Earl of -Beaulieu. O’Brien, it seems, was even taller than Hussey. - -[27] Walpole had given this Chinese name to a pond of gold-fish at -Strawberry Hill. - -[28] It was written by Mrs. Halket of Wardlaw. Mr. Lockhart states, -that on the blank leaf of his copy of Allan Ramsay’s “Evergreen,” Sir -Walter Scott has written, “Hardyknute was the first poem that I ever -learnt, the last that I shall forget.” - -[29] The “Siege of Aquileia,” a tragedy, by John Home, produced at -Drury Lane, 21st February, 1760. - -[30] The living of Coxwold, in Yorkshire. - -[31] “My flatterers here are all mutes. The oaks, the beeches, the -chestnuts, seem to contend which best shall please the Lord of the -Manor. They cannot deceive, they will not lie.”--_Sir Robert Walpole to -General Churchill_, Houghton, June 24th, 1743. - -[32] “Queen Charlotte had always been if not ugly, at least ordinary, -but in her later years her want of personal charms became of course -less observable, and it used to be said that she was grown better -looking. I one day said something to this effect to Colonel Disbrowe, -her Chamberlain. ‘Yes,’ replied he, ‘I do think that the _bloom_ of her -ugliness is going off.’”--CROKER. - -[33] “The recluse life led here at Richmond, which is carried to such -an excess of privacy and economy, that the Queen’s friseur waits on -them at dinner, and that four pounds only of beef are allowed for their -soup, disgusts all sorts of people.”--_Walpole to Lord Hertford, Sep. -9, 1764._ - -[34] Walpole was thinking of an anecdote he had told in a previous -letter. “The old Maréchale de Villars gave a vast dinner [at Paris] to -the Duchess of Bedford. In the middle of the dessert, Madame de Villars -called out, ‘Oh dear! they have forgot! yet I bespoke them, and I am -sure they are ready; you English love hot rolls--bring the rolls.’ -There arrived a huge dish of hot rolls, and a sauce-boat of melted -butter.” - -[35] “The Duc de Nivernois [the French ambassador] called here the -other day in his way from Hampton Court; but, as the most sensible -French never have eyes to see anything, unless they see it every day -and see it in fashion, I cannot say he flattered me much, or was much -struck with Strawberry. When I carried him into the Cabinet, which I -have told you is formed upon the idea of a Catholic chapel, he pulled -off his hat, but perceiving his error, he said, ‘_Ce n’est pas une -chapelle pourtant_,’ and seemed a little displeased.”--_Walpole to -Mann, April 30, 1763._ - -[36] - - “Esher’s peaceful grove - Where Kent and Nature vie for Pelham’s love.”--_Pope._ - - “Esher’s groves, - Where, in the sweetest solitude, embraced - By the soft windings of the silent Mole, - From courts and senates Pelham finds repose.”--_Thomson._ - -[37] Mrs. Anne Pitt, sister of Lord Chatham. - -[38] Miss Chudleigh. - -[39] Afterwards Dukes of Gloucester and Cumberland. - -[40] The old Bedlam stood in Moorfields. - -[41] The substance of this petition, and the grave answer which the -King was advised to give to such a ludicrous appeal, are preserved in -the _Gentleman’s Magazine_ for 1765, p. 95; where also we learn that -Mr. Walpole’s idea of the Carpenters’ petition was put in practice, and -his Majesty was humbly entreated to wear a wooden leg himself, and to -enjoin all his servants to do the same. It may, therefore, be presumed -that this _jeu d’esprit_ was from the pen of Mr. Walpole. - -[42] “Their women are the first in the world in everything but beauty; -sensible, agreeable, and infinitely informed. The _philosophes_, except -Buffon, are solemn, arrogant, dictatorial coxcombs--I need not say -superlatively disagreeable.”--_Walpole to Mann._ - -[43] He alludes to his Roman Eagle at Strawberry Hill. - -[44] The installation of the Duke of Grafton as Chancellor of the -University of Cambridge. Gray wrote the Ode for the occasion. - -[45] The proceedings of the House of Commons against Wilkes had just -produced a Ministerial crisis. - -[46] Maria Walpole, Countess Dowager of Waldegrave, who had now -secretly married William Henry, Duke of Gloucester. - -[47] Sons of Francis, Earl of Hertford, Mr. Walpole’s cousin-german. - -[48] Mr. Walpole’s nephews. - -[49] The Pantheon. - -[50] In the comedy of “The Provoked Husband.” - -[51] Benjamin West, afterwards, at Sir Joshua’s death, President of the -Royal Academy of Arts. - -[52] Lady Anne Howard, daughter of Henry, fourth Earl, and sister of -Frederick, fifth Earl of Carlisle. - -[53] The Temple of Friendship, like the ruins in the Campo Vaccino, is -reduced to a single column at Stowe.--_Walpole to Crauford, 6th March, -1766._ - -[54] ‘He dropped me, partly from politics and partly from caprice, for -we never had any quarrel; but he was grown an excessive humourist, -and had shed almost all his friends as well as me. He had parts, and -infinite vivacity and originality till of late years; and it grieved -me much that he had changed towards me after a friendship of between -thirty and forty years.’ This is Walpole’s account written to Cole -the day after Montagu’s death. But Montagu’s last letter to Walpole, -dated October 6, 1770, is cordial and even affectionate in tone; while -in Walpole’s preceding letter there are some signs of pique, and the -letter from Horace which ends the correspondence is both short and cold. - -[55] He means Gloucester House. - -[56] ‘I went to the House of Commons the other day to hear Charles -Fox, contrary to a resolution I had made of never setting my foot -there again. It is strange how disuse makes one awkward. I felt a -palpitation, as if I were going to speak there myself. The object -answered: Fox’s abilities are amazing at so very early a period, -especially under the circumstances of such a dissolute life. He was -just arrived from Newmarket, had sat up drinking all night, and had not -been in bed. How such talents make one laugh at Tully’s rules for an -orator, and his indefatigable application! His laboured orations are -puerile in comparison with this boy’s manly reason.’--_Walpole to Mann, -April 9, 1772._ - -[57] Walpole’s playful name for Little Strawberry Hill, a cottage near -his villa, and belonging to him, which he gave to Mrs. Clive, the -actress, for her life. - -[58] Mrs. Clive’s brother, who lived with her. - -[59] A new singer who attained great celebrity. - -[60] A comedy by Hugh Kelly. - -[61] Lady Louisa Fitzpatrick, Lord Ossory’s sister, afterwards married -to the Earl of Shelburne. - -[62] The period of the year when Lady Ossory left Ampthill for Farming -Woods. - -[63] His quitting Parliament. - -[64] Lord Clive, in fact, cut his throat, as Walpole, correcting -himself, mentions in a postscript to this letter. - -[65] In 1760, Walpole wrote: “General Clive is arrived, all over -estates and diamonds. If a beggar asks charity, he says, ‘Friend, I -have no small brilliants about me.’” - -[66] They poisoned Pope Ganganelli.--WALPOLE. - -[67] “Who knows but that hereafter some traveller like myself will -sit down upon the banks of the Seine, the Thames, or the Zuyder Zee?… -Who knows but that he will sit down solitary amid silent ruins?” -etc.--Volney’s _Ruins_. - -“When London shall be an habitation of bitterns, when St. Paul’s and -Westminster Abbey shall stand, shapeless and nameless ruins, in the -midst of an unpeopled marsh; … some Transatlantic commentator will be -weighing … the respective merits of the Bells and the Fudges, and their -historians.”--Shelley, _Dedication to Peter Bell the Third_. - -The rest are still more remote. - -[68] Walpole, as well as Macaulay, repeats himself: “Nations at the -acme of their splendour, or at the eve of their destruction, are -worth observing. When they grovel in obscurity afterwards, they -furnish neither events nor reflections; strangers visit the vestiges -of the Acropolis, or may come to dig for capitals among the ruins -of St. Paul’s; but nobody studies the manners of the pedlars and -banditti that dwell in mud huts within the precincts of a demolished -temple.”--_Letter to Mason, dated May 12, 1778, first published in -1851._ - -[69] Thomas, second Lord Lyttelton; he had been at Florence. - -[70] Thomas Lennard Barret; his wife was sister of Lord Camden. - -[71] The lady’s dog, which, on her death, passed into the care of -Walpole. - -[72] This picture, by Sir Joshua Reynolds, was painted for Mr. Rigby. -The attitude of Miss Vernon is, as Walpole here says, affected. That of -Lord William Russell illustrates the genius of Sir Joshua. The story is -told, that the boy was unwilling to stand still for his portrait, and -running about the room, crouched in a corner to avoid it. Sir Joshua, -at once seizing the possibility of painting him so, said, “Well, stay -there, my little fellow,” and drew him in a natural position of fear at -the dragon.--R. VERNON SMITH (afterwards LORD LYVEDEN). - -[73] ‘I forgot to tell you that the town of Birmingham has petitioned -the Parliament to enforce the American Acts, that is, make war; for -they have a manufacture of swords and muskets.’--WALPOLE TO MANN, Jan. -27th, 1775. - -‘Is it credible that five or six of the great _trading_ towns have -presented addresses against the Americans?--SAME TO SAME, Oct. 10, -1775. The writer tries to persuade himself that these addresses were -procured by ‘those boobies, the country gentlemen.’ - -[74] The Lady Louisa Fitzpatrick before referred to.--_See p. 131._ - -[75] Horace’s nephew, the mad earl. - -[76] The Prince was now in his eighteenth year, having been born on the -12th of August, 1762. - -[77] The Duke was in disgrace with the King on account of his marriage. - -[78] Referring to a rumour that he had been appointed ambassador to -Spain. - -[79] An Act passed in 1778 relaxing the penal laws against Roman -Catholics. - -[80] Count Haslang, Minister from the Elector of Bavaria: he had been -here from the year 1740. - -[81] Mademoiselle Fagniani, Selwyn’s adopted daughter. - -[82] Walpole’s printer. - -[83] Author of an “Essay on Prints,” the third edition of which he -dedicated to Horace Walpole. - -[84] Afterwards Sir Nathaniel William Wraxall, Bart., known by his -“Memoirs of His Own Life.” - -[85] This was the second Exhibition at Somerset House. The first was in -May, 1780. - -[86] On the 7th of June, Mr. Fox moved for leave to bring in a bill to -amend the Act of the 26th of George II., for preventing clandestine -marriages. The bill passed the Commons, but was rejected by the Lords. - -[87] “Mr. Fox never had much intimate intercourse with Horace Walpole; -did not, I think, like him at all; had no opinion of his judgment or -conduct; probably had imbibed some prejudice against him, for his -ill-usage of his father; and certainly entertained an unfavourable, -and even unjust, opinion of his abilities as a writer.” So says -Lord Vassall-Holland in one of the passages from his pen printed in -Russell’s Memorials of Fox. See vol. i., p. 276. It may be mentioned -here, that Lord Holland’s Collections for the Life of Fox, which are -contained in the work just referred to, include numerous extracts from -manuscript papers of Horace Walpole. “These papers, the property of -Lord Waldegrave, were lent to me,” says Lord Holland, “and have been -long in my possession.” That the manuscripts to which Lord Holland -thus had access comprised the portion of Walpole’s correspondence with -Mann, which was first published in 1843, appears by several passages -which his lordship quotes from these letters. Is it possible that this -circumstance may furnish a solution of the ethnological question, to -which we have adverted on p. 141, as to the descent of Macaulay’s New -Zealander from Walpole’s Peruvian? From 1831 Macaulay had been an -_habitué_ of Holland House. Trevelyan’s “Life of Lord Macaulay,” vol. -i. p. 176, et seq. - -[88] An ordinance of the Great-Duke against high head-dresses. - -[89] A neighbour at Twickenham. - -[90] There can be no doubt that Horace about this time, as on former -occasions, had dreamed of seeing Conway in the position of Prime -Minister. The General had taken a prominent part in the last attacks -upon Lord North, and when the latter gave place to Lord Rockingham’s -second Administration, the services of the former were requited by the -office of Commander-in-Chief, with a seat in the Cabinet. But Walpole’s -illusion about his friend was finally dispelled when, in the search for -a leader which went on during and after Lord Rockingham’s last illness, -it appeared that Conway’s name occurred to no one but himself.--_See -Walpole to Mason, May 7, 1882, and to Mann, July 1, 1782._ - -[91] He did get but five of his sons into that Parliament.--WALPOLE. - -[92] Lord Hood was an admiral. - -[93] Almost all the hackney-chairmen in London were Irish. - -[94] “The fact of the Duchess having purchased the vote of a stubborn -butcher by a kiss, is, we believe, undoubted. It was probably during -the occurrence of these scenes that the well-known compliment was -paid to her by an Irish mechanic: ‘I could light my pipe at her -eyes.’”--_Jesse’s_ “Selwyn,” vol. iv., p, 118. - -[95] “Fox said that Sayers’s caricatures had done him more mischief -than the debates in Parliament, or the works of the press. The prints -of Carlo Khan, Fox running away with the India House, Fox and Burke -quitting Paradise when turned out of office, and many others of these -publications, had certainly a vast effect on the public mind.”--_Lord -Chancellor Eldon_, “Life of Twiss,” vol. i., p. 162. This very apt -quotation is made by Mr. P. Cunningham in his valuable edition of -Walpole’s Letters. - -[96] Alluding to some coke-ovens for which Conway obtained a patent. - -[97] Mr. Pitt says, in a letter to Mr. Wilberforce, on the 8th of -April, “Westminster goes on well, in spite of the Duchess of Devonshire -and the other women of the people; but when the poll will close is -uncertain.” At the close of it, on the 17th of May, the numbers were, -for Hood, 6,694; Fox, 6,223; Wray, 5,998. Walpole, whose delicate -health at this time confined him almost entirely to his house, went in -a sedan-chair to give his vote for Mr. Fox. - -[98] The Lady Caroline Petersham of the frolic at Vauxhall, related in -a former chapter. Conway in his youth had been enamoured of her. - -[99] At this time commencing her career as an actress. - -[100] Cole died 16th December, 1782. - -[101] See page 226. - -[102] Lord Strafford died 10th March, 1791. - -[103] Very shortly after this visit, Miss Burney was appointed one of -the Keepers of the Queen’s Robes in the room of Madame Haggerdorn, who -retired. - -[104] Born in 1745, at Stapleton, near Bristol, where her father had -the care of the Charity School. Early in life, she joined her sisters -in establishing a school for young ladies, which had great success. -In 1773 she published a pastoral drama, called “The Search after -Happiness,” and in 1774 a tragedy founded on the story of Regulus. -These works led to her introduction into London society. Her tragedy -“Percy” was produced at Covent Garden on the 10th of December, 1777, -and ran nineteen nights. About this time also she wrote “The Fatal -Falsehood,” and “Sacred Dramas.” In 1786, when she was forty years of -age, she withdrew from London, and settled at Cowslip Green, near her -native place, in which district she spent the remainder of her life, -devoting herself to works of charity, and the composition of religious -books. - -[105] That is, voted that the charge relating to the spoliation of the -Begums of Oude contained matter for impeachment. - -[106] Miss Elizabeth Farren, afterwards Countess of Derby. - -[107] A celebrated tavern adjoining Drury Lane Theatre. - -[108] Recently the seat of Lord St. Leonards. - -[109] A comedy called “False Appearances,” translated from “L’Homme du -Jour” of Boissy. It was first acted at the private theatre at Richmond -House, and afterwards at Drury Lane. - -[110] Meaning the establishment of the Mail-coach. Miss More, in her -last letter, had said,--“Mail-coaches, which come to others, come not -to me: letters and newspapers, now that they travel in coaches, like -gentlemen and ladies, come not within ten miles of my hermitage; and -while other fortunate provincials are studying the world and its ways, -and are feasting upon elopements, divorces, and suicides, tricked -out in all the elegancies of Mr. Topham’s phraseology, I am obliged -to be contented with village vices, petty iniquities, and vulgar -sins.”--_Memoirs_, vol. ii., p. 77. - -[111] Major Topham was the proprietor of the fashionable morning -paper entitled _The World_. “In this paper,” says Mr. Gifford, in his -preface to the “Baviad,” “were given the earliest specimens of those -unqualified and audacious attacks on all private character, which -the town first smiled at for their quaintness, then tolerated for -their absurdity; and--now that other papers equally wicked and more -intelligible have ventured to imitate it--will have to lament to the -last hour of British liberty.” - -[112] Walpole was mistaken here. It was their granduncle, not their -grandfather, from whom Mr. Berry had expected to inherit. - -[113] The date is thus put, alluding to his age, which, in 1789, was -seventy-one.--MARY BERRY. - -[114] “Bishop Bonner’s Ghost.” - -[115] Her “Observations and Reflections made in the course of a Journey -through France, Italy, and Germany,” honoured with a couplet in the -“Baviad”-- - - “See Thrale’s grey widow with a satchel roam, - And bring in pomp laborious nothings home.” - -[116] One half the prediction was fulfilled, since the Duke of Clarence -outlived the Duke of York, and came to the throne in 1830, on the death -of his eldest brother, at this time, 1789, the Prince of Wales. - -[117] This alludes to Miss Berry’s father having been disinherited by -an uncle, to whom he was heir-at-law, and a large property left to his -younger brother.--MARY BERRY. - -[118] A drawing by Miss Agnes Berry. - -[119] His secretary. - -[120] An unmarried sister of the first Earl Howe, who then lived at -Richmond. - -[121] Here begins Kirgate’s handwriting in the MS. - -[122] A friend of the Berrys. He was then one of the Commissioners for -Auditing the Public Accounts. - -[123] Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs. He was succeeded in the -office by Lord Grenville. - -[124] The following anecdote, connected with this memorable evening, -is related by Mr. Curwen, at that time member for Carlisle, in his -“Travels in Ireland:”--“The most powerful feelings were manifested on -the adjournment of the House. While I was waiting for my carriage, Mr. -Burke came to me and requested, as the night was wet, I would set him -down. As soon as the carriage-door was shut, he complimented me on my -being no friend to the revolutionary doctrines of the French; on which -he spoke with great warmth for a few minutes, when he paused to afford -me an opportunity of approving the view he had taken of those measures -in the House. At the moment I could not help feeling disinclined to -disguise my sentiments: Mr. Burke, catching hold of the check-string, -furiously exclaimed, ‘You are one of these people! set me down!’ With -some difficulty I restrained him;--we had then reached Charing Cross: a -silence ensued, which was preserved till we reached his house in Gerard -Street, when he hurried out of the carriage without speaking.” - -[125] He means impeachments. - -[126] Louisa Maximiliana de Stolberg Gœdern, wife of the Pretender. -After the death of Charles Edward in 1788, she travelled in Italy and -France, and lived with her favourite, the celebrated Alfieri, to whom -she is stated to have been privately married. She continued to reside -at Paris, until the progress of the revolution compelled her to take -refuge in England. - -[127] A loo phrase. - -[128] “There [at the opening of Hastings’s trial] were the -members of that brilliant society which quoted, criticised, and -exchanged repartees, under the rich peacock-hangings of Mrs. -Montagu.”--_Macaulay’s Essay on “Warren Hastings.”_ - -[129] To Miss Farren. - -[130] This alludes to the stories told at the time of an ivory bed, -inlaid with gold, having been presented to Queen Charlotte by Mrs. -Hastings, the wife of the Governor-General of India. - -[131] Shortly afterwards Lady Hamilton--Nelson’s Lady Hamilton. - -[132] Miss Burney had recently resigned her situation about the Queen’s -person. Madame d’Arblay (Miss Burney) has entered in her Diary the -following portion of a letter addressed to her by Walpole: - -“As this will come to you by my servant, give me leave to add a word on -your most unfounded idea that I can forget you, because it is almost -impossible for me ever to meet you. Believe me, I heartily regret that -privation, but would not repine, were your situation, either in point -of fortune or position, equal in any degree to your merit. But were -your talents given to be buried in obscurity? You have retired from -the world to a closet at Court--where, indeed, you will still discover -mankind, though not disclose it; for if you could penetrate its -characters, in the earliest glimpse of its superficies, will it escape -your piercing eye when it shrinks from your inspection, knowing that -you have the mirror of truth in your pocket? I will not embarrass you -by saying more, nor would have you take notice of, or reply to what I -have said: judge only, that feeling hearts reflect, not forget. Wishes -that are empty look like vanity; my vanity is to be thought capable -of esteeming you as much as you deserve, and to be reckoned, though a -very distant, a most _sincere_ friend,--and give me leave to say, dear -Madam, your most obedient humble servant, HOR. WALPOLE. - -“Strawberry Hill, October, ’90.” - -[133] The Cholmondeleys. - -[134] The weak and indolent character of Mr. Berry made him always and -everywhere a cipher. - -[135] Queen Mary asked some of her attendant ladies what a squeeze of -the hand was supposed to intimate. They said “Love.” “Then,” said the -Queen, “my vice-chamberlain must be violently in love with me, for he -always squeezes my hand.” - -[136] ‘Anecdotes,’ etc., by Lætitia Matilda Hawkins, 1822. - -[137] ‘Walpoliana,’ Preface. - -[138] As early as 1754 he wrote to Bentley: “You know I never drink -three glasses of any wine.” - -[139] “A hat, you know, I never wear, my breast I never button, nor -wear great coats, etc.”--Letter to Cole, Feb. 14, 1782. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Horace Walpole and his World, by Horace Walpole - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HORACE WALPOLE AND HIS WORLD *** - -***** This file should be named 53519-0.txt or 53519-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/5/1/53519/ - -Produced by Beginners Projects and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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Seeley. - </title> - - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - -<style type="text/css"> - -a { - text-decoration: none; -} - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - -h1,h2 { - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -hr { - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - clear: both; -} - -hr.tb { - width: 45%; - margin-left: 27.5%; - margin-right: 27.5%; -} - -hr.chap { - width: 65%; - margin-left: 17.5%; - margin-right: 17.5%; -} - -p { - margin-top: 0.5em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: 0.5em; - text-indent: 1em; -} - -.summary p { - padding-left: 2em; - text-indent: -2em; - font-size: 90%; -} - -table { - margin: 1em auto 1em auto; - max-width: 40em; -} - -td { - padding-left: 2.25em; - padding-right: 0.25em; - vertical-align: top; - text-indent: -2em; - text-align: justify; -} - -.blockquote, .summary { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; - margin-bottom: 1.5em; -} - -.caption-credit { - text-align: center; - margin-bottom: 1em; - font-size: 80%; - text-indent: 0em; -} - -.caption-center { - padding-left: 1em; - padding-right: 1em; -} - -.caption-main { - text-align: center; - margin-bottom: 1em; - font-size: 110%; - text-indent: 0em; -} - -.center { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; -} - -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -.footnotes { - margin-top: 1em; - border: dashed 1px; -} - -.footnote { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; - font-size: 0.9em; -} - -.footnote .label { - position: absolute; - right: 84%; - text-align: right; -} - -.fnanchor { - vertical-align: super; - font-size: .8em; - text-decoration: none; -} - -.noindent { - text-indent: 0em; -} - -.larger { - font-size: 150%; -} - -.pagenum { - position: absolute; - right: 4%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; - font-style: normal; -} - -.poetry-container { - text-align: center; - margin: 1em; -} - -.poetry { - display: inline-block; - text-align: left; - font-size: 90%; -} - -.poetry .verse { - text-indent: -3em; - padding-left: 3em; -} - -.poetry .indent5 { - text-indent: 2em; -} - -.poetry .indent9 { - text-indent: 6em; -} - -.poetry .indent10 { - text-indent: 7em; -} - -.poetry .indent14 { - text-indent: 11em; -} - -.right { - text-align: right; -} - -.smaller { - font-size: 90%; -} - -.smcap { - font-variant: small-caps; - font-style: normal; -} - -.smcapuc { - font-variant: small-caps; - font-style: normal; - text-transform: lowercase; -} - -.tdc { - text-align: center; - padding-top: 0.75em; - padding-bottom: 0.5em; -} - -.tdr { - text-align: right; - vertical-align: bottom; -} - -.titlepage { - text-align: center; - margin-top: 3em; - text-indent: 0em; -} - -@media handheld { - -img { - max-width: 100%; - width: auto; - height: auto; -} - -.poetry { - display: block; - margin-left: 1.5em; -} - -.blockquote { - margin-left: 5%; - margin-right: 5%; -} -} - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -Project Gutenberg's Horace Walpole and his World, by Horace Walpole - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Horace Walpole and his World - Select passages from his Letters - -Author: Horace Walpole - -Editor: L. B. Seeley - -Release Date: November 13, 2016 [EBook #53519] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HORACE WALPOLE AND HIS WORLD *** - - - - -Produced by Beginners Projects and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[i]</a></span></p> - -<p class="center larger">HORACE WALPOLE AND HIS WORLD</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[ii]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 490px;" id="frontispiece"> - -<img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" width="490" height="650" alt="" /> - -<p class="caption-credit"><i>Sir T. Laurence. Pinx.</i> <span class="caption-center"><i>A. Dawson. Ph. Sc.</i></span> <i>W. Evans. Sc.</i></p> - -<p class="caption-main"><i>Horace Walpole.</i></p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[iii]</a></span></p> - -<p class="titlepage"><span class="larger">HORACE WALPOLE</span><br /> -AND HIS WORLD</p> - -<p class="titlepage"><i>SELECT PASSAGES FROM HIS LETTERS</i></p> - -<p class="titlepage">EDITED BY<br /> -<span class="larger">L. B. SEELEY, M.A.</span><br /> -<i>Late Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge</i></p> - -<p class="titlepage"><i>WITH EIGHT ILLUSTRATIONS AFTER</i><br /> -<span class="smcap">Sir Joshua Reynolds and Sir Thomas Lawrence</span></p> - -<p class="titlepage">LONDON<br /> -SEELEY, JACKSON, AND HALLIDAY, 54, FLEET STREET<br /> -1884</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[iv]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> - -<table summary="Contents"> - <tr> - <td></td> - <td class="tdr smaller">PAGE</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER I.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Introduction—Birth and Parentage—Education—Appointments—Travels—Parliamentary - Career—Retirement—Fortune—Strawberry - Hill—Collections—Writings—Printing - Press—Accession to Title—Death—Character—Political - Conduct and Opinions—The Slave Trade—Strikes—Views - of Literature—Friendships—Charities—Chatterton—Letters</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">1</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER II.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Country Life—Ranelagh Gardens—The Rebel Lords—The - Earthquake—A Frolic at Vauxhall—Capture of a Housebreaker—Strawberry - Hill—The Beautiful Gunnings—Sterne</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">33</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER III.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>A new Reign—Funeral of the late King—Houghton revisited—Election - at Lynn—Marriage of George III.—His Coronation</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">62</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER IV.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>General Taste for Pleasure—Entertainments at Twickenham - and Esher—Miss Chudleigh’s Ball—Masquerade at Richmond - House—The Gallery at Strawberry Hill—Balls—The - Duchess of Queensberry—Petition of the Periwig-makers—Ladies’ - Head-gear—Almack’s—“The Castle of Otranto”—Plans - for a Bower—A late Dinner—Walpole’s Idle Life—Social - Usages</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">78</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span>CHAPTER V.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>The Gout—Visits to Paris—Bath—John Wesley—Bad - Weather—English Summers—Quitting Parliament—Madame - du Deffand—Human Vanity—The Banks of the - Thames—A Subscription Masquerade—Extravagance of the - Age—The Pantheon—Visiting Stowe with Princess Amelia—George - Montagu—The Countess of Ossory—Powder-Mills - Blown up at Hounslow—Distractions of Business and - Pleasure</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">99</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER VI.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Lord Nuneham—Madame de Sévigné—Charles Fox—Mrs. - Clive and Cliveden—Goldsmith and Garrick—Dearth of - News—Madame de Trop—A Bunch of Grapes—General - Election—Perils by Land and Water—Sir Horace Mann—Lord - Clive—The History of Manners—A Traveller from - Lima—The Sçavoir Vivre Club—Reflections on Life—The - Pretender’s Happiness—Paris Fashions—Madame du Deffand - ill—Growth of London—Sir Joshua Reynolds—Change - in Manners—Our Climate</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">124</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER VII.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>The American War—Irish Discontent—Want of Money—The - Houghton Pictures sold—Removal to Berkeley Square—Ill-health—A - Painting by Zoffani—The Rage for News—The - Duke of Gloucester—Wilkes—Fashions, Old and New—Mackerel - News—Pretty Stories—Madame de Sévigné’s - Cabinet—Picture of his Waldegrave Nieces—The Gordon - Riots—Death of Madame du Deffand—The Blue Stockings</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">151</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER VIII.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Walpole in his Sixty-fourth Year—The Royal Academy—Tonton—Charles - Fox—William Pitt—Mrs. Hobart’s <i lang="fr">Sans - Souci</i>—Improvements at Florence—Walpole’s Dancing - Feats—No Feathers at Court—Highwaymen—Loss of the - <i>Royal George</i>—Mrs. Siddons—Peace—Its Social Consequences—The - Coalition—The Rivals—Political Excitement—The - Westminster Election—Political Caricatures—Conway’s - Retirement—Lady Harrington—Balloons—Illness—Recovery</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">188</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span>CHAPTER IX.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Lady Correspondents—Madame de Genlis—Miss Burney and - Hannah More—Deaths of Mrs. Clive and Sir Horace Mann—Story - of Madame de Choiseul—Richmond—Queensberry - House—Warren Hastings—Genteel Comedy—St. Swithin—Riverside - Conceits—Lord North—The Theatre again—Gibbon’s - History—Sheridan—Conway’s comedy—A - Turkish War—Society Newspapers—The Misses Berry—Bonner’s - Ghost—The Arabian Nights—King’s College - Chapel—Richmond Society—New Arrivals—The Berrys - visit Italy—A Farewell Letter</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">221</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">CHAPTER X.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Walpole’s Love of English Scenery—Richmond Hill—Burke - on the French Revolution—The Berrys at Florence—Death - of George Selwyn—London Solitude—Repairs at Cliveden—Burke - and Fox—The Countess of Albany—Journal of a - Day—Mrs. Hobart’s Party—Ancient Trade with India—Lady - Hamilton—A Boat Race—Return of the Berrys—Horace - succeeds to the Peerage—Epitaphium Vivi Auctoris—His - Wives—Mary Berry—Closing Years—Love of Moving - Objects—Visit from Queen Charlotte—Death of Conway—Final - Illness of Horace—His last Letter</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">262</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span></p> - -<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.</h2> - -<table summary="List of Illustrations"> - <tr> - <td></td> - <td class="tdr smaller">PAGE</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Horace Walpole</span>, <i>after</i> Lawrence</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#frontispiece"><i>Frontispiece.</i></a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Lawrence Sterne</span>, <i>after</i> Reynolds</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#illus1">60</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Lady Gertrude Fitzpatrick</span>, <i>after</i> Reynolds</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#illus2">132</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Lady Caroline Montagu</span>, <i>after</i> Reynolds</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#illus3">148</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The three Ladies Waldegrave</span>, <i>after</i> Reynolds</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#illus4">168</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Sir Joshua Reynolds</span>, <i>after</i> Reynolds</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#illus5">188</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Duchess of Devonshire</span>, <i>after</i> Reynolds</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#illus6">213</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Mrs. Montagu</span>, <i>after</i> Reynolds</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#illus7">274</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> - -<h1>HORACE WALPOLE AND HIS WORLD.</h1> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</h2> - -<div class="summary"> - -<p>Introduction.—Birth and Parentage.—Education.—Appointments.—Travels.—Parliamentary -Career.—Retirement.—Fortune.—Strawberry -Hill.—Collections.—Writings.—Printing Press.—Accession -to Title.—Death.—Character.—Political Conduct and -Opinions.—The Slave-Trade.—Strikes.—Views of Literature.—Friendships.—Charities.—Chatterton.—Letters.</p> - -</div> - -<p>We offer to the general reader some specimens of -Horace Walpole’s correspondence. Students of history -and students of literature are familiar with this great -mine of facts and fancies, but it is too extensive to be -fully explored by those who have not both ample leisure -and strong inclination for such employment. Yet most -persons, we imagine, would be glad to have some acquaintance -with the prince of English letter-writers. -Many years have passed since Walter Scott pronounced -Walpole’s letters to be the best in our language, and -since Lord Byron declared them to be incomparable. -The fashion in style and composition has changed -during the interval almost as often as the fashion in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> -dress: other candidates, too, for fame in the same department -have come forward; but no one, we think, has -succeeded in setting aside the verdict given, in the -early part of our century, by the two most famous -writers of their time. Meanwhile, to the collections of -letters by Walpole that were known to Scott and -Byron have been added several others, no way inferior -to the first, which have been published at different -periods; besides numerous detached letters, which -have come to light from various quarters. In the -years 1857-9, appeared a complete edition of Walpole’s -letters in nine large octavo volumes.<a name="FNanchor_1" id="FNanchor_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> The editor of -this expressed his confidence that no additions of -moment would afterwards be made to the mass of -correspondence which his industry had brought together. -Yet he proved to be mistaken. In 1865 came out Miss -Berry’s Journals and Correspondence,<a name="FNanchor_2" id="FNanchor_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> containing a -large quantity of letters and parts of letters addressed -to her and her sister by Walpole, which had not -previously been given to the world, as well as several -interesting letters to other persons, the manuscripts of -which had passed into and remained in Miss Berry’s -possession. Other letters, too, have made their appearance, -singly and incidentally, in more recent publications.<a name="FNanchor_3" id="FNanchor_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> -The total number of Walpole’s published -letters cannot now fall much short of three thousand;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> -the earliest of these is dated in November, 1735,<a name="FNanchor_4" id="FNanchor_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> the -latest in January, 1797. Throughout the intervening -sixty years, the writer, to use his own phrase, lived -always in the big busy world; and whatever there -passed before him, his restless fingers, restless even -when stiffened by the gout, recorded and commented -on for the amusement of his correspondents and the -benefit of posterity. The extant results of his diligence -display a full picture of the period, distorted -indeed in many places by the prejudices of the artist, -but truthful on the whole, and enlivened everywhere -by touches of genius. From this mass of narratives -and descriptions, anecdotes and good-sayings, criticisms, -reflections and raillery, we shall endeavour to -make as representative a selection as our limits will -permit.</p> - -<p>It is hardly necessary to say that Horace Walpole -entered life as the son of the foremost Englishman of -his time. He was born on the 24th of September, 1717, -O.S., and was the youngest of the six children whom -Sir Robert Walpole’s first wife, Catherine Shorter, -brought to her illustrious husband. This family included -two other sons, Robert and Edward, and -two daughters, besides a fourth son, William, who -died in infancy. Horace, whose birth took place<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> -eleven years after that of the fifth child, bore no -resemblance, either in body or mind, to the robust -and hearty Sir Robert. He was of slight figure -and feeble constitution; his features lacked the -comeliness of the Walpole race; and his temperament -was of that fastidious, self-conscious, impressionable -cast which generally causes a man or boy to be -called affected. The scandalous, noting these things, -and comparing the person and character of Horace -Walpole with those of the Herveys, remembered that -Sir Robert and his first wife had been estranged from -one another in the later years of their union, and that -the lady had been supposed to be intimate with Carr -Lord Hervey, elder brother of Pope’s Sporus. Horace -himself has mentioned that this Carr was reckoned of -superior parts to the more known John Lord Hervey, -but nowhere in our author’s writings does it appear that -the least suspicion of spurious parentage<a name="FNanchor_5" id="FNanchor_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> had entered -his thoughts. Everywhere he exults in being sprung -from the great Prime Minister; everywhere he is devoted -to the memory of his mother, to whom he raised -a monument in Westminster Abbey, with an inscription<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> -from his own pen celebrating her virtue. And in the -concluding words of this epigraph, he repeated a -saying, which he has elsewhere recorded, of the poet -Pope, that Lady Walpole was “untainted by a Court.”</p> - -<p>Walpole tells us that, in the first years of his life, -being an extremely delicate child, he was much indulged -both by his mother and Sir Robert; and as an instance -of this, he relates the well-known story, how his longing -to see the King was gratified by his mother carrying -him to St. James’s to kiss the hand of George I. just -before his Majesty began his last journey to Hanover. -Shortly after this, the boy was sent to Eton, from -which period we hear no more of Lady Walpole, though -she survived till August, 1737. In 1735, young Horace -proceeded from Eton to King’s College, Cambridge, -where he resided, though with long intervals of absence, -until after he came of age. On quitting the University, -he was in possession of a handsome income arising -from the patent place of Usher of the Exchequer, to -which he had recently been appointed, and which was -then reckoned worth £900 a year, and from two other -small patent places in the Exchequer, those of Clerk of -the Escheats and Controller of the Pipe, producing -together about £300 a year, which had been held for -him during his minority. All these offices had been -procured for him by Sir Robert Walpole, and were -sinecures, or capable of being executed by deputy.</p> - -<p>Finding himself thus provided for and at leisure, the -fortunate youth set out on the continental tour which -was considered indispensable for a man of fashion.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> -He travelled, as he tells us, at his own expense; and -being well able to afford the luxury of a companion, he -took with him Thomas Gray the poet, who had been -his associate at Eton and Cambridge. The pair -visited together various parts of France and Italy, -making a stay of some duration at several places. -After a few weeks spent in Paris, they settled at -Rheims for three months to study French. They -lived here with their former school-mate, Henry -Seymour Conway,<a name="FNanchor_6" id="FNanchor_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> Walpole’s maternal cousin; and -here appears to have been cemented the lifelong friendship -between Conway and Walpole which forms -perhaps the most honourable feature in the history of -the latter. At Florence, Walpole resided for more than -twelve months in the house of Horace Mann, British -Envoy to the Court of Tuscany, with whom he formed -an intimacy, which was maintained, from the time of -his leaving Italy until the death of Mann forty-five -years after, by correspondence only, without the parties -ever meeting again. Gray remained with Walpole at -Florence, and accompanied him in visits which he -made thence to Rome, Naples, and other places; but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> -at Reggio a dissension arose between them, and they -parted to return home by different routes. Walpole -subsequently took the blame of this dispute upon himself. -“It arose,” he says, “from Gray being too serious -a companion. Gray was for antiquities, I was for perpetual -balls and plays; the fault was mine.” According -to another account, Walpole had opened a letter addressed -to Gray. Whatever was the cause of the -breach, it was repaired three years later, and during -the rest of the poet’s life he continued on friendly -terms with his early companion.</p> - -<p>Walpole reached England in September, 1741, just -before the meeting of a new Parliament, and at the -commencement of the Session took his seat as member -for Callington, in Cornwall, for which place he had -been elected during his absence. Sir Robert’s Government -was at that time in the midst of the difficulties -which soon afterwards caused its downfall. In February, -1742, the defeated Minister resigned, and was created -Earl of Orford. Horace, as was to be expected, took -no prominent part in the struggle. His maiden speech -was delivered in March, 1742, on a motion for an inquiry -into the conduct of Sir Robert Walpole during the last -ten years of his administration. The young orator was -received with favour by the House, and obtained a compliment -from the great William Pitt; but the success of -his effort, which is preserved in one of his letters to -Mann, must be attributed entirely to the circumstances -under which it was uttered. It does not appear that he -afterwards acquired any reputation in debate. Indeed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> -he was generally content to be a listener. That he -was a constant attendant at the House, his correspondence -sufficiently proves, but he rarely took an active -part in its proceedings. He has recorded a dispute he -had with Speaker Onslow in his second Parliament. -In 1751 he moved the address to the King at the opening -of the Session, and five years later we find him -speaking on a question of employing Swiss troops in -the Colonies. In 1757 he exerted himself with much zeal -in favour of the unfortunate Admiral Byng. This, however, -was by argument and solicitation outside the -House. In like manner, some years afterwards, he -made strenuous, though vain, endeavours, at the conferences -of his party, to persuade them not to support -the exclusion of the King’s mother from the Regency -which was provided for on the first serious illness of -George III.</p> - -<p>These are the chief incidents of Walpole’s public -career, although he remained in the House of Commons -for twenty-seven years. At the General Election of -1754 he was chosen for the family borough of Castle -Rising in Norfolk, but vacated this seat soon afterwards -in order to be a candidate for the town of King’s -Lynn, which had for many years returned his father to -Parliament. Horace continued to represent Lynn -until the Dissolution of 1768, when he took leave of his -constituents, and was no longer seen in Westminster -Hall. Perhaps the final reason for his retirement was -the failure of his friend Conway to retain a foremost -position in politics. After serving as Secretary of State<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> -and Leader of the House of Commons under three successive -Premiers, Conway, through feebleness of purpose, -lost his hold upon office, and fell for some years into the -background. But with disappointment for his friend, -there must have mingled in Walpole’s mind a feeling of -dissatisfaction with himself. Few men acquire much -weight in Parliament who do not at least occasionally -take a share in its discussions; and Horace had more -than once found that his influence in the House was by -no means proportioned to his general reputation for -ability. He was therefore quite ready to withdraw when -Conway could no longer profit by his vote. Though at -all times a keen politician, and extremely social in his -habits, he was unfitted by nature for the conflicts of the -Parliamentary arena. Desultory skirmishing with the -pen was more to his taste than the close fighting of -debate. During more than half his life, the war of -parties was largely carried on by anonymous pamphlets, -and Walpole gave powerful help in this way to his -side; afterwards, when letters and articles in newspapers -took the place of pamphlets, he became an -occasional contributor to the public journals.</p> - -<p>But Walpole found in art and literature the chief -employment of his serious hours. His reading was extensive, -the most solid portion of it being in the regions -of history and archæology. More engrossing than his -love of books was his passion for collecting and -imitating antiquities and curiosities of all kinds. His -ample fortune furnished him with the means of indulging -these expensive pursuits. The emoluments<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> -of the Usher of the Exchequer greatly increased during -his tenure of that post: in time of war—and England -was often at war in those days—they were sometimes -very large. Walpole admits that in one year he received -as much as £4,200 from this source; and the Commissioners -of Accounts in 1782 thought that the annual -value of the place might fairly be stated at that sum. -There was an antique flavour about these gains which -gave Walpole almost as much pleasure as the money -itself. The duties of the Usher were to shut the gates -of the Exchequer, and to provide the Exchequer and -Treasury with the paper, parchment, pens, ink, sand, -wax, tape, and other articles of a similar nature used in -those departments. The latter of these duties, which was -said to be as old as the reign of Edward III. at least, -formed the lucrative part of the Usher’s employment, -as he was allowed large profits on the goods he thus -purveyed to the Crown. Obviously the income of such -an office, while varying with the financial business of -each year, must have steadily advanced on the whole -with the progress of the nation. Besides this place, -and the two other patent places before mentioned, in -all of which he continued until his death, Walpole -enjoyed for many years a principal share in the income -of the Collectorship of the Customs. Sir Robert -Walpole held the last appointment under a patent -which entitled him to dispose as he pleased of the -reversion during the lives of his two eldest sons, Robert -and Edward. Accordingly, he appointed that, after his -death, £1,000 a year of the income should be paid to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> -his youngest son Horace during the subsistence of the -patent, and that the remainder should be divided -equally between Horace and Edward. By this arrangement, -Horace at the age of twenty-seven—for his father -died in March, 1745—stepped into another income of -about £1,400 a year, which lasted until the death of his -brother Sir Edward Walpole in 1784. In his writings he -speaks, with becoming gratitude, of the places and emoluments -bestowed on him by his father as being a noble -provision for a third son. Having thus nobly provided -at the public expense for a child who had not yet shown -any merit or capacity, Sir Robert did not find it needful -to do much for him out of his private property. By -his will, he bequeathed Horace only a sum of £5,000 -charged on his Norfolk estate, and a leasehold house in -Arlington Street. The greater part of the legacy remained -unpaid for forty years; the house Horace occupied -until the term expired in 1781, when he bought a -residence in Berkeley Square. As Walpole was never -married, it is not surprising that he died worth ninety-one -thousand pounds in the funds, besides other property, -including his town house just mentioned, and his -villa at Twickenham with its collection of pictures and -other works of art.</p> - -<p>The fantastic little pile of buildings which he raised on -the margin of the Thames engaged his chief attention -for many years. He purchased the site of this in 1748, -there being nothing then on the land but a cottage, and -called it Strawberry Hill, a name which he found in one -of the title-deeds. He had taken a lease the year<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> -before of the cottage, with part of the land, from Mrs. -Chenevix, a fashionable toy-dealer, and thus describes -his acquisition in a letter to Conway: “It is a little -plaything-house that I got out of Mrs. Chenevix’s shop, -and is the prettiest bauble you ever saw. It is set in -enamelled meadows, with filigree hedges:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">‘A small Euphrates through the piece is rolled,</div> -<div class="verse">And little finches wave their wings in gold.’</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Two delightful roads, that you would call dusty, supply -me continually with coaches and chaises: barges as -solemn as Barons of the Exchequer move under my -window; Richmond Hill and Ham walks bound my -prospect; but thank God! the Thames is between me -and the Duchess of Queensberry. Dowagers as plenty -as flounders inhabit all around, and Pope’s ghost is just -now skimming under my window by a most poetical -moonlight. I have about land enough to keep such a -farm as Noah’s, when he set up in the Ark with a pair -of each kind; but my cottage is rather cleaner than I -believe his was after they had been cooped up together -forty days. The Chenevixes had tricked it out for -themselves: up two pair of stairs is what they call -Mr. Chenevix’s library, furnished with three maps, one -shelf, a bust of Sir Isaac Newton, and a lame telescope -without any glasses. Lord John Sackville <em>predeceased</em> -me here, and instituted certain games called <em>cricketalia</em>, -which have been celebrated this very evening in honour -of him in a neighbouring meadow.”</p> - -<p>Having completed his purchase, Walpole proceeded -to make improvements. His antiquarian studies<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> -had inspired him with a fondness for Gothic architecture. -But his zeal was not according to much -knowledge, nor guided by a very pure taste. Gradually -the little cottage became merged in a strange -nondescript edifice, half castle, half cloister, with all -kinds of grotesque decorations. “The Castle,” so -Walpole called it, “was,” he tells us, “not entirely -built from the ground, but formed at different times, by -alterations of, and additions to, the old small house. The -Library and Refectory, or Great Parlour, was entirely -new-built in 1753; the Gallery, Round Tower, Great -Cloister, and Cabinet, in 1760 and 1761; the Great -North Bed-chamber in 1770; and the Beauclerk Tower -with the Hexagon Closet in 1776.” In a small cloister, -outside the house, stood the blue and white china -bowl, commemorated by Gray, in which Walpole’s cat -was drowned. On the staircase was the famous armour -of Francis I. In the Gallery, among many other treasures, -were placed the Roman eagle and the bust of -Vespasian, so often mentioned in their owner’s correspondence. -The buildings were no more substantial -in structure than they were correct in style. Much -cheap ridicule has been poured upon “the Castle,” -as “a most trumpery piece of ginger-bread Gothic,” -with “pie-crust battlements,” and “pinnacles of -lath and plaster.” Many of its faults and absurdities -must in justice be referred to the novelty of the -attempt to apply a disused style to the requirements -of a modern domestic residence. Walpole himself -was by no means blind to the flimsiness and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> -incongruities of his creation. He was rather indignant, -indeed, when a French visitor censured it as “non -digne de la solidité Anglaise;” but in his own description -of it he calls it “a paper fabric,” and speaks of -the house and its decorations as “a mixture which -may be denominated, in some words of Pope:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">‘A Gothic Vatican of Greece and Rome.’”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">With the help of Mr. Essex, who assisted him in designing -the later portions, he gradually learned the -depth of the architectural ignorance in which he and -the “Committee,” who were his first advisers, had been -involved at the commencement of his work. In short, -Strawberry Hill, child’s baby-house as it was, proved -the first step in the renascence of Gothic art.</p> - -<p>As chamber after chamber was added to the Castle, -it became Walpole’s next care to fill them with fresh -antiques in furniture, pictures, bronzes, armour, painted -glass, and other like articles. “In his villa,” says Lord -Macaulay, “every apartment is a museum, every piece -of furniture is a curiosity; there is something strange in -the form of the shovel; there is a long story belonging -to the bell-rope. We wander among a profusion of -rarities, of trifling intrinsic value, but so quaint in -fashion, or connected with such remarkable names and -events, that they may well detain our attention for a -moment. A moment is enough. Some new relic, some -new unique, some new carved work, some new enamel, -is forthcoming in an instant. One cabinet of trinkets -is no sooner closed than another is opened.”</p> - -<p>Of Walpole’s writings other than his letters, we do<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> -not propose to offer any detailed account or criticism. -His earliest work, “Ædes Walpolianæ,” was published -as early as 1747; it was merely a description of his -father’s pictures at Houghton Hall, the family seat in -Norfolk. Among his next efforts were some papers -contributed in 1753 and following years to a periodical -work of the day, called <cite>The World</cite>.<a name="FNanchor_7" id="FNanchor_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> Most persons -have read the “Castle of Otranto,” so warmly applauded -by the author of “Ivanhoe.” Most students -of art, we suppose, are acquainted with Walpole’s -“Anecdotes of Painting,” and his “Catalogue of -Engravers.” His “Catalogue of Noble and Royal -Authors,” though abounding in agreeable anecdotes, is -probably now consulted by few; and his “Historic -Doubts on the Life and Reign of Richard III.,” acute -and ingenious as it was, cannot detain anyone who is -aware of the recent researches on the same subject. -His “Reminiscences of the Courts of George I. and -George II.,” and his “Memoirs” and “Journals” -relating to the reigns of George II. and George III., -are, and must ever remain, among the most valuable -historical documents of the eighteenth century. The -Reminiscences were written for the amusement of the -Misses Berry, and have been extolled with justice as -being, both in manner and matter, the very perfection<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> -of anecdote writing. The rest of Walpole’s works, -including his tragedy of “The Mysterious Mother”—the -merits of which, whatever they may be, are -cancelled by the atrocity of the fable—are as nearly -as possible forgotten.</p> - -<p>Not content with writing and collecting books, Horace -in 1757 established a printing press in the grounds of -Strawberry Hill. The first printer employed by him -was William Robinson; the last, Thomas Kirgate, -whose name will often be found in the following extracts. -The first work printed at this press was Gray’s -“Odes,” with Bentley’s Illustrations. Its other productions -include Walpole’s own Royal and Noble -Authors, Anecdotes of Painting, Engravers, and Tragedy; -his “Description of Strawberry Hill,” and “Fugitive -Pieces;” besides several works by other authors, such -as Bentley’s “Lucan,” Lord Herbert’s Life, a translation -of Hentzner’s “Travels,” and Lord Whitworth’s -“Account of Russia;” as well as small collections of -verses by sundry friends. These “Strawberry Hill” -editions are now scarce, and command high prices.</p> - -<p>The rest of our author’s career may be summed up -in a few words. His eldest brother had died early, and -had been succeeded by an only son, whose profligacy -and occasional fits of insanity caused much trouble. -In December, 1791, when seventy-four years of age, -Horace became, by the death of this nephew, Earl of -Orford, which made little addition to his income, the -family estate being heavily incumbered. The inheritance -was far from welcome. In a letter to a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> -friend, he says he does not understand the management -of such an estate, and is too old to learn. “A source -of lawsuits among my near relations, endless conversations -with lawyers, and packets of letters to read every -day and answer—all this weight of new business is too -much for the rag of life that yet hangs about me.”<a name="FNanchor_8" id="FNanchor_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> He -never took his seat in the House of Lords. He lived -for upwards of five years longer, in the full possession -of all his faculties, though suffering great bodily infirmity -from the effects of gout, to which he was long a martyr. -He died at his house, No. 11, Berkeley Square, on the -2nd of March, 1797, in his eightieth year, and was -buried at the family seat of Houghton. With him the -male line of Sir Robert Walpole and the title of Orford -became extinct. The estate of Houghton descended -to the fourth Earl of Cholmondeley, grandson of -Horace Walpole’s younger sister Mary, who married -the third earl of that ilk. Strawberry Hill was at its -founder’s absolute disposal, and he left it, as already -mentioned, to Mrs. Damer, Conway’s daughter, but -for life only, with limitations over in strict settlement.</p> - -<p>“It is somewhat curious,” says his biographer, “as -a proof of the inconsistency of the human mind, that, -having built his Castle with so little view to durability, -Walpole entailed the perishable possession with a -degree of strictness which would have been more fitting -for a baronial estate. And that, too, after having -written a fable entitled ‘The Entail,’ in consequence of -some one having asked him whether he did not intend<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> -to entail Strawberry Hill, and in ridicule of such a proceeding.”</p> - -<p>Inconsistency, caprice, eccentricity, affectation, are -faults which have been freely charged against the -character of Horace Walpole. His strong prejudices -and antipathies, his pride of rank, his propensity to -satire, even his sensitive temperament, made him many -enemies, who not only exaggerated his failings, but -succeeded, in some instances at least, in transmitting -their personal resentments to men of the present -century.</p> - -<p>As a politician, especially, Walpole has received -rather hard measure from the partisan critics on both -sides. A generation back, Whig Reviewers and Tory -Reviewers vied with each other in defaming his memory. -Macaulay and Croker, who seldom agreed in anything, -were of one accord in this. To Croker, of course, -Horace was just a place-holder who furnished a telling -example of Whig jobbery. To rake up all the details of -his places in the Exchequer, and his “rider,” or charge, -on the place in the Customs, to compute and exaggerate -his gains from each of these sources, to track him in -dark intrigues for extending his tenure of one appointment -and bettering his position in another; all this was -congenial employment for the Rigby of the nineteenth -century, as it would have been for his prototype in the -eighteenth. The motive of Macaulay’s deadly attack -is not quite so obvious. Walpole’s politics were those -of his father and of the old Whigs generally. While -in theory inclined to Republicanism—though he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> -never, as he tells us, quite a Republican<a name="FNanchor_9" id="FNanchor_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a>—it was his -habit, on practical questions, to consider what course -the great Sir Robert would have taken under similar -circumstances. There seems nothing in all this to -excite the wrath of the most atrabilious Liberal. The -truth appears to be that, in the Whig circles of -Macaulay’s time, there existed a traditional grudge -against Horace Walpole. In the “Memorials of Charles -James Fox,” which were arranged by Lord Vassall-Holland, -and edited by Lord John Russell, both the -noble commentators speak of Horace in terms of undisguised -bitterness. Nor is the cause very far to seek. In -politics, Conway was under the dominion of Walpole; -and Conway, on more than one critical occasion, disobliged -the Rockingham faction, from which the modern -Whigs deduce their origin. “Conway,” says Lord -John Russell, writing of the events of 1766, “had been -made Secretary of State by Lord Rockingham, and -ought to have resigned when Lord Rockingham left -office; but Mr. Walpole did not choose that this should -be so.” Sixteen years later, Conway sat again in a -Cabinet presided over by Lord Rockingham, and when -that nobleman died, he again refused to resign. It will -be remembered that, on this occasion, the Cavendishes -and Fox quitted their places when the Treasury was -given to Lord Shelburne, instead of their own nominee, -the Duke of Portland, whose only recommendations -were that he was Lord of Welbeck, and had married a -daughter of the House of Devonshire.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p> - -<p>In 1782, the Duke of Richmond, Conway’s son-in-law, -concurred with Conway in declining to desert the new -Premier; and we know that Walpole stoutly supported, -if he did not dictate, the joint resolution of his two -friends. Lord Holland tells us that Fox did not like -Walpole at all, and accounts for this dislike by suggesting -that his uncle may have imbibed some prejudice -against Walpole for unkindness shown to the -first Lord Holland. But this seems going needlessly far -back for an explanation. There can be no doubt that -Fox looked on Walpole as having assisted to thwart -his design of governing England in the name of the -insignificant Duke of Portland, and detested him accordingly. -Nor did subsequent events tend to soften -Fox’s recollection of this passage in his life, or of the -persons concerned in it. Had he overcome his jealousy -of Lord Shelburne, or had he succeeded in compelling -his rival to bow before the “wooden idol”—so Lord -John Russell himself calls Portland—which he had set -up, he would probably, in either case, have avoided -the ill-famed coalition with Lord North, which was the -main cause of his long-continued exclusion from power. -Walpole had spoken his mind very plainly on the -subject. “It is very entertaining,” he wrote, “that -two or three great families should persuade themselves -that they have an hereditary and exclusive right of -giving us a head without a tongue.”<a name="FNanchor_10" id="FNanchor_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> And he told -Fox himself: “My Whiggism is not confined to the -Peak of Derbyshire.”<a name="FNanchor_11" id="FNanchor_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> We can imagine with what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> -horror such utterances as these were received by the -believers in the Whig doctrine of divine right. No -wonder that Mr. Fox did not like Walpole. And what -Mr. Fox disliked was, of course, anathema to every -true Whig, and especially to an Edinburgh Reviewer -of 1833.</p> - -<p>What do the complaints of Walpole’s political -tergiversation amount to? It was certainly not a wise -act of Horace to hang up in his bedroom an engraving -of the death warrant of Charles I. with the inscription -“Major Charta.” But the Whig essayist, while -reproving Walpole’s strange fancy that, without the -instrument in question, the Great Charter would have -become of little importance, might have recollected -that he had himself professed his inability to see any -essential distinction between the execution of the -Royal Martyr and the deposition of his son. Again, -there was inconsistency, no doubt, between Walpole’s -admiration of the Long Parliament, and his detestation -of the National Assembly; yet it should be -borne in mind that, in the midst of his disgust at the -excesses of the French Revolution, he protested that -he was very far from subscribing to the whole of -Burke’s “Reflections.” Why then should we be told -that “he was frightened into a fanatical royalist, and -became one of the most extravagant alarmists of those -wretched times?” We may surely ask on his behalf -the question which Macaulay put when the consistency -of his own master, Sir James Mackintosh, was impugned: -“Why is one person to be singled out from among<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> -millions, and arraigned before posterity as a traitor to -his opinions, only because events produced on him the -effect which they produced on a whole generation?”</p> - -<p>When the critic tells us that Walpole was a mischief-maker -who “sometimes contrived, without showing -himself, to disturb the course of Ministerial negotiations, -and to spread confusion through the political -circles,” we cannot avoid seeing in these words a -resentful reference to the part taken by Conway on -the occasions above referred to.</p> - -<p>It was not Walpole’s fault that the party conflicts of -his time were mainly about persons. We have seen -the importance which Fox attached to these personal -questions. We may safely say that this great man’s -disapproval of Walpole’s conduct did not spring from -any difference on matters of principle. If Horace was -an opponent of Parliamentary Reform, this was an -open question among Fox’s most intimate associates. -If he objected to the enfranchisement of the Roman -Catholics, most Whigs of his time did the same. In -the dispute with America, as we shall see, he maintained, -from the first, the right of the Colonies to -liberty and independence. Nor did he retract his -expressions of sympathy with the American Republic -when the horrors of the French Revolution made him -a supporter of Tory policy in England and on the Continent. -He always lamented as one of the worst -effects of the French excesses that they must necessarily -retard the progress and establishment of civil -liberty.<a name="FNanchor_12" id="FNanchor_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p> - -<p>There were questions of social politics on which he -was far in advance of his times. “We have been -sitting,” he wrote, on the 25th of February, 1750, -“this fortnight on the African Company. We, the -British Senate, that temple of liberty, and bulwark of -Protestant Christianity, have, this fortnight, been considering -methods to make more effectual that horrid -traffic of selling negroes. It has appeared to us that -six-and-forty thousand of these wretches are sold every -year to our plantations alone! It chills one’s blood—I -would not have to say I voted for it for the Continent -of America! The destruction of the miserable inhabitants -by the Spaniards was but a momentary -misfortune that followed from the discovery of the New -World, compared with the lasting havoc which it -brought upon Africa. We reproach Spain, and yet do -not even pretend the nonsense of butchering these poor -creatures for the good of their souls.”<a name="FNanchor_13" id="FNanchor_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> The sentiments -thus declared by Walpole nine years before Wilberforce -was born, he steadily adhered to through life. On this -point, at least, no one has ever charged him with any -wavering or inconsistency.</p> - -<p>We will mention, before passing on to different -topics, one other matter on which Walpole shows a -liberality of feeling quite unusual at any period of his -life. In the summer of 1762, he writes: “I am in distress -about my Gallery and Cabinet: the latter was on -the point of being completed, and is really striking -beyond description. Last Saturday night my workmen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> -took their leave, made their bow, and left me up -to the knees in shavings. In short, the journeymen -carpenters, like the cabinet-makers, have entered into -an association not to work unless their wages are -raised; and how can one complain? The poor fellows, -whose all the labour is, see their masters advance their -prices every day, and think it reasonable to touch their -share.”<a name="FNanchor_14" id="FNanchor_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>In the domain of literature, Walpole’s opinions were -largely influenced by his social position and personal -connexions. He rated the class of professional writers -as much below as they have ever been rated above -their real deserts; and this may perhaps help to explain -the rancour with which he has been pursued by some -critics. He could see nothing wonderful in the art of -stringing sentences together. He met famous authors -daily in society, and did not find that they were wiser -or more accomplished than their neighbours. Most of -them showed to little advantage in the drawing-rooms -in which he felt his own life completest. Gray seldom -opened his lips; Goldsmith “talked like poor poll”; -Johnson was Ursa Major—a brute with whom Horace -declined to be acquainted; Hume’s powers of mind did -not appear in his broad unmeaning face, nor animate -his awkward conversation; even Gibbon made a bad -figure as often as any doubt was hinted as to the transcendent -importance of his luminous or voluminous -history. As for the novelists, neither Fielding nor -Richardson ever ascended to the sublime heights in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> -which Horace dwelt at ease. Stories circulated there -of vulgar orgies amidst which the biographer of Tom -Jones performed his police functions, and of requests -made by the author of “Clarissa” to his female -admirers for information as to the manners of polite -life. Walpole shrank from the coarseness of the one, -and smiled at the attempts of the other to describe a -sphere which he had never entered. We are not to -suppose, however, that Horace was as blind to the -gradations of literary rank as some would have us believe. -When he told Mann that <cite>The World</cite> was the -work of “our first writers,” instancing Lord Chesterfield, -Sir Charles Hanbury Williams, and other well-born -dilettanti whose names have now sunk into oblivion -or neglect, it is clear that he was speaking with reference -to the matter in hand. It did not occur to him -that great historians and poets would be likely or -suitable contributors to a series of light papers intended -for the macaronis of the hour. What he regarded as -the chief qualification of himself and his friends who -wrote for this fashionable journal was their familiarity -with the tone of the best society. For himself, Walpole -constantly disclaimed all pretence to learning or -exact knowledge of any kind, and, due allowance made -for the vanity of which undoubtedly he owned an -ample share, there seems no reason to question his -sincerity. We conceive, indeed, that his estimate of -his own talents and acquirements was much more -accurate than it has usually been considered. In all -that related to literary fame, his vanity showed itself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> -rather in depreciating the advantages which he had not, -than in exalting those which he possessed. If he did -not worship style, still less was he disposed to bow -down before study and research. Hence the low -esteem in which he held authors of all kinds. Some -excuses may be made for his disparaging criticisms. -The literati of his day were certainly eclipsed by the -contemporary orators. What writer was left in prose -or verse, on the death of Swift, who could compare with -Mansfield or the first William Pitt? Which of the -poets or historians of the next generation won the -applause which was called forth by the speeches of Fox -or Sheridan or the younger Pitt? If Fox and Sheridan -could obtain their greatest triumphs in the midst of -gambling and dissipation, and apparently without pains -or application, there was some apology for slighting the -labours of Robertson and the carefully polished verses -of Goldsmith. With the exception of Lord Chatham, -whom he strongly disliked, Walpole generally does -justice to the great speakers of his time, on whichever -side in politics they were ranged; if he gives no credit -for genius to the writers of the age, this was partly at -least because their genius was of no striking or signal -order. Judgment, sense, and spirit were Pope’s three -marks for distinguishing a great writer from an inferior -one, and these continued to be the criteria applicable, -even in the department of so-called works of imagination, -down to the end of the century.</p> - -<p>Walpole, as in duty bound, was a professed worshipper -of Shakespeare and Milton, but we suspect that his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> -worship was not very hearty. It is clear that Pope -was the poet of his choice; and he seems to have -known every line of his favourite by heart. He admired -also the exquisite poetry of Gray, and this -admiration was no doubt sincere; but we are disposed -to think that it arose entirely from the early -connexion between Horace and the author, and from the -feeling that Gray, in some sort, belonged to him. Gray -was Walpole’s poet, as Conway was his statesman; -and the sense of ownership, which converted his -cousinly regard for Conway into a species of idolatry, -turned to enthusiasm for Gray’s “Odes” the critical -estimate which would otherwise, we feel sure, have -ended in a pretty strong aversion.</p> - -<p>What Walpole said, rather uncharitably, of Sir -Joshua Reynolds, may, we fear, be applied with more -justice to Walpole himself. All his geese were swans, -as the swans of others were geese in his eyes. Conway -was a man of integrity and honour, an excellent soldier, -a fluent speaker, but he was a timid and vacillating -politician. That phase of their weakness which makes -the vainglorious pique themselves on having remarkable -friends, is certainly not unamiable, though it is -sometimes fatiguing. We all know the man who congratulates -himself on his good fortune in being the -associate of the versatile Dr. A., the high-souled Mr. -B., the original Mr. C., and so on. Had Horace -possessed a wife, he would have wearied all his -acquaintance with encomiums on her beauty, wit, wisdom, -and other matchless perfections. Having no wife<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> -to celebrate, he chose to sing the praises of General -Conway, and sang them lustily, and with good -courage. This was the more disinterested, as Conway -appears to have been distinctly one of those persons -who allow themselves to be loved. There is no -questioning the genuineness of a devotion which undoubtedly -entailed on Walpole great sacrifices. The -time and labour which Horace bestowed in the service -of his friend’s ambition entitle him to full credit for -honesty in the offer which he made to share his fortune -with the latter, when, at an early stage of his career, -he was dismissed from his employments for opposing -the Ministry of the day.</p> - -<p>This was not the only occasion on which Walpole -showed himself capable of uncommon generosity. He -made a similar offer to Madame du Deffand, when she -was threatened with the loss of her pension. That -clever leader of French society was not, like Conway, -a connexion of long standing, but a mere recent -acquaintance of Horace, who had no claim on him -beyond the pleasure she had shown in his company, -and the pity which her blind and helpless old age demanded. -In the event, the lady did not require his -assistance, but her letters prove that she had full confidence -in his intentions, notwithstanding the harshness -with which he sometimes repressed her expressions of -affection. The same temperament which made him -fond of displaying his intimacy with Conway, caused -him to dread the ridicule of being supposed to have an -attachment for the poor old Marquise. Hence arose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> -the occasional semblance of unkindness, which was -contradicted by substantial proofs of regard, and -which must be set down to undue sensitiveness on the -gentleman’s side rather than to want of consideration.</p> - -<p>The coldness of heart with which Walpole is -reproached has, we think, been exaggerated. “His -affections were bestowed on few; for in early life they -had never been cultivated.” So much is admitted by -Miss Berry, a most favourable witness. But in society -generally, Horace appears to have shown himself -friendly and obliging. His aristocratic pride did not -prevent him from mixing freely with persons much his -inferiors in station. Miss Hawkins, daughter of the -historian of music, who for many years lived near him -at Twickenham, testifies to his sociable and liberal -temper; and Walpole’s own letters show that he was -at some trouble to assist Sir John Hawkins in collecting -materials for his work. The correspondence -between Horace and his deputies in the Exchequer -proves the kindly feeling that subsisted between him -and them; and also reveals the fact that he employed -them from time to time in dispensing charities which -he did not wish to have disclosed. And Miss Berry -records that, during his later life, although no ostentatious -contributor to public charities and schemes of -improvement, the friends in whose opinion he could -confide had always more difficulty to repress than to -excite his liberality.</p> - -<p>His temper, says Sir Walter Scott, was precarious. -Walpole, we believe, would readily have pleaded guilty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> -to this charge. That he felt his infirmity in this respect -his Letters sufficiently show; he assigns it as the chief -reason why he preferred to live alone. Gray was not -the only one of his early friends with whom he -quarrelled. He became estranged at different times -from Ashton, another college companion; from Bentley, -whose taste and talent he had employed in decorating -his Castle; from George Montagu,<a name="FNanchor_15" id="FNanchor_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> who, next to -Conway, was long his most intimate friend; and from -Mason the poet; not to mention other names. Whatever -blame may attach to Walpole for these ruptures, -it seems to be now pretty well agreed that in the -matter of Chatterton he was guiltless. On this subject, -we need only quote a few sentences from Scott. -“His memory,” says Sir Walter, “has suffered most on -account of his conduct towards Chatterton, in which -we have always thought he was perfectly defensible. -That unhappy son of genius endeavoured to impose -upon Walpole a few stanzas of very inferior merit, as -ancient; and sent him an equally gross and palpable -imposture under the shape of a pretended ‘List of -Painters.’ Walpole’s sole crime lies in not patronizing -at once a young man who only appeared before him -in the character of a very inartificial impostor, though -he afterwards proved himself a gigantic one. The -fate of Chatterton lies, not at the door of Walpole, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> -of the public at large, who two years, we believe, afterwards -were possessed of the splendid proofs of his -natural powers, and any one of whom was as much -called upon as Walpole to prevent the most unhappy -catastrophe.”<a name="FNanchor_16" id="FNanchor_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a></p> - -<p>We turn from Walpole’s life and character to his -Letters. We have already mentioned the friends to -whom the earlier portion of these were chiefly addressed. -Other friends to whom he occasionally -wrote were Lord Hertford, Conway’s elder brother, -Lord Strafford, Cole, the antiquary of Cambridge, -and John Chute, with whom he had been intimate at -Florence. The names of some later correspondents will -appear as we proceed, of whom such an account as -may seem necessary will be given as they come before -us. Of the pains and skill with which the matter of -each letter is adapted to the person for whom it was -intended, our readers will be able to judge for themselves. -That the author had studied letter-writing as -an art, is a remark almost too trivial to be repeated. -It is hardly too much to say that he made it his chief -literary business. “Mine,” he said, “is a life of letter-writing.” -That he counted on being remembered by -his letters far more than by any other of his writings, -we hold to be as certain as any statement of the kind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> -can be. He had, we believe, gauged his powers -far more correctly than is commonly supposed, and -was satisfied that in this kind of composition, more -than in any other, he had produced something of permanent -value. He had studied closely the letters of -Gray and Madame de Sévigné, and formed his own -style from them. The letters of the latter were his -especial delight. He read them over until they became -part of his own mind. Nothing interested him so -much as a rumour that some fresh letters of “Notre -Dame des Rochers” had been discovered. It may be -too much to say, as Miss Berry has said, that Walpole -has shown our language to be capable of all the graces -and all the charms of the French of the great writer -whom he imitated. But, due allowance made for the -superiority of French idiom and French finesse in a -department where they appear to most advantage, -it may safely be affirmed that, if variety and interest of -topics be regarded as well as style, Walpole’s letters -are unrivalled. It was only by degrees that Horace -attained to the perfection of easy engaging writing. -His earlier letters betray signs of considerable labour. -It is said that a summary prepared beforehand of one -of his letters to Montagu was found in looking over -some of his correspondence. In later days he wrote -with the greatest facility, even carrying on a conversation -the while. But he continued to the last the -habit of putting down on the backs of letters or slips -of paper, a note of facts, of news, of witticisms, or of -anything he wished not to forget for the amusement of -his correspondents.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</h2> - -<div class="summary"> - -<p>Country Life.—Ranelagh Gardens.—The Rebel Lords.—The -Earthquake.—A Frolic at Vauxhall.—Capture of a Housebreaker.—Strawberry -Hill.—The Beautiful Gunnings.—Sterne.</p> - -</div> - -<p>We pass over such of Walpole’s letters as were written -before his return from his travels. They are interesting -chiefly as parts of a correspondence carried on by four -young men of talent—Gray, West, Ashton, and Horace -himself—who, having been schoolfellows, had formed -what they called a quadruple alliance; and it must be -owned that Walpole in this correspondence shines less -than Gray, who appears to have been the mentor of the -group, and less, too, perhaps than West, whose early -death disappointed great hopes. We omit, besides, all -reference to the letters in which Horace described the -great Walpolean battle, and traced the fortunes of the -Broad Bottom Administration. And, with few exceptions, -his accounts of later political events have also -been excluded. The additions which his gossiping -chronicles have made to our knowledge of these matters -have been incorporated in most recent histories of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> -period; the extracts given in the present volume are -designed, as a rule, to illustrate the history of manners -rather than of politics.</p> - -<p>From the moment of his return from the Continent -until he lost his father, Horace lived in the old statesman’s -house, dividing his time, for the most part, -between the House of Commons and the amusements -of fashionable society. In the latter sphere, the Honourable -Mr. Walpole soon achieved success. Several years -afterwards, he defined himself as a dancing senator. -His first season witnessed the opening of Ranelagh -Gardens, which at once became the resort of the great -world. Grave ministers and privy councillors were to -be seen there in the crowd of beauties and macaronis. -Horace relates that he carried Sir Robert thither just -before attending him on his retreat to Houghton. -Constrained by filial duty, the young man revisited the -family seat in each of the two following years, but he -went sorely against his will. With his father’s coarse -habits and boisterous manners he had nothing in -common; his feeble constitution was unequal to the -sports of the field, and the drinking that then accompanied -them; nor could the scenery of Norfolk, which -he disliked, make him forget the excitements of Westminster -and Chelsea. Yet to these visits to Houghton -his readers owe some entertaining sketches of English -country life in the middle of the eighteenth century. -Take, for instance, the following lively letter addressed -to John Chute, whose acquaintance he had made at -Florence:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Houghton, August 20, 1743.</p> - -<p>“Indeed, my dear Sir, you certainly did not use to be -stupid, and till you give me more substantial proof that -you are so, I shall not believe it. As for your temperate -diet and milk bringing about such a metamorphosis, I -hold it impossible. I have such lamentable proofs every -day before my eyes of the stupifying qualities of beef, -ale, and wine, that I have contracted a most religious -veneration for your spiritual nouriture. Only imagine -that I here every day see men, who are mountains of -roast beef, and only seem just roughly hewn out into -the outlines of human form, like the giant-rock at -Pratolino! I shudder when I see them brandish their -knives in act to carve, and look on them as savages that -devour one another. I should not stare at all more -than I do, if yonder Alderman at the lower end of the -table was to stick his fork into his neighbour’s jolly -cheek, and cut a brave slice of brown and fat. Why, -I’ll swear I see no difference between a country gentleman -and a sirloin; whenever the first laughs, or the -latter is cut, there run out just the same streams of -gravy! Indeed, the sirloin does not ask quite so many -questions. I have an Aunt here, a family piece of goods, -an old remnant of inquisitive hospitality and economy, -who, to all intents and purposes, is as beefy as her -neighbours. She wore me so down yesterday with -interrogatories, that I dreamt all night she was at my -ear with ‘who’s’ and ‘why’s,’ and ‘when’s’ and -‘where’s,’ till at last in my very sleep I cried out, ‘For -heaven’s sake, Madam, ask me no more questions!’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Oh! my dear Sir, don’t you find that nine parts in -ten of the world are of no use but to make you wish -yourself with that tenth part? I am so far from growing -used to mankind by living amongst them, that my -natural ferocity and wildness does but every day grow -worse. They tire me, they fatigue me; I don’t know -what to do with them; I don’t know what to say to -them; I fling open the windows, and fancy I want air; -and when I get by myself, I undress myself, and seem -to have had people in my pockets, in my plaits, and on -my shoulders! I indeed find this fatigue worse in the -country than in town, because one can avoid it there -and has more resources; but it is there too. I fear ’tis -growing old; but I literally seem to have murdered a -man whose name was Ennui, for his ghost is ever before -me. They say there is no English word for <i lang="fr">ennui</i>; I -think you may translate it most literally by what is -called ‘entertaining people,’ and ‘doing the honours:’ -that is, you sit an hour with somebody you don’t know -and don’t care for, talk about the wind and the weather, -and ask a thousand foolish questions, which all begin -with, ‘I think you live a good deal in the country,’ or, -‘I think you don’t love this thing or that.’ Oh! ’tis -dreadful!</p> - -<p>“I’ll tell you what is delightful—the Dominichin!<a name="FNanchor_17" id="FNanchor_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> -My dear Sir, if ever there was a Dominichin, if there -was ever an original picture, this is one. I am quite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> -happy; for my father is as much transported with it as -I am. It is hung in the gallery, where are all his most -capital pictures, and he himself thinks it beats all but -the two Guidos. That of the Doctors and the Octagon—I -don’t know if you ever saw them? What a chain -of thought this leads me into! but why should I not -indulge it? I will flatter myself with your some time -or other passing a few days here with me. Why must -I never expect to see anything but Beefs in a gallery -which would not yield even to the Colonna?”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Again the following to Sir Horace Mann:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Newmarket, Oct. 3, 1743.</p> - -<p>“I am writing to you in an inn on the road to -London. What a paradise should I have thought this -when I was in the Italian inns! in a wide barn with -four ample windows, which had nothing more like glass -than shutters and iron bars! no tester to the bed, and -the saddles and portmanteaus heaped on me to keep off -the cold. What a paradise did I think the inn at Dover -when I came back! and what magnificence were two-penny -prints, salt cellars, and boxes to hold the knives; -but the <i lang="la">summum bonum</i> was small-beer and the newspaper.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“‘I bless’d my stars, and call’d it luxury!’</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>“Who was the Neapolitan ambassadress<a name="FNanchor_18" id="FNanchor_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> that could -not live at Paris, because there was no macaroni? -Now am I relapsed into all the dissatisfied repinement -of a true English grumbling voluptuary. I could find<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> -in my heart to write a Craftsman against the Government, -because I am not quite so much at my ease as on -my own sofa. I could persuade myself that it is my -Lord Carteret’s fault that I am only sitting in a -common arm-chair, when I would be lolling in a <i lang="fr">péché-mortel</i>. -How dismal, how solitary, how scrub does this -town look; and yet it has actually a street of houses -better than Parma or Modena. Nay, the houses of the -people of fashion, who come hither for the races, are -palaces to what houses in London itself were fifteen -years ago. People do begin to live again now, and I -suppose in a term we shall revert to York Houses, -Clarendon Houses, etc. But from that grandeur all -the nobility had contracted themselves to live in coops -of a dining-room, a dark back-room, with one eye in a -corner, and a closet. Think what London would be, if -the chief houses were in it, as in the cities in other -countries, and not dispersed like great rarity-plums in a -vast pudding of country. Well, it is a tolerable place -as it is! Were I a physician, I would prescribe nothing -but recipe, <span class="smcapuc">CCCLXV</span> drachm. Londin. Would you know -why I like London so much? Why, if the world must -consist of so many fools as it does, I choose to take -them in the gross, and not made into separate pills, as -they are prepared in the country. Besides, there is no -being alone but in a metropolis: the worst place in the -world to find solitude is the country: questions grow there, -and that unpleasant Christian commodity, neighbours. -Oh! they are all good Samaritans, and do so pour balms -and nostrums upon one, if one has but the toothache,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> -or a journey to take, that they break one’s head. A -journey to take—ay! they talk over the miles to you, -and tell you, you will be late in. My Lord Lovel says, -<em>John</em> always goes two hours in the dark in the morning, -to avoid being one hour in the dark in the evening. I -was pressed to set out to-day before seven: I did before -nine; and here am I arrived at a quarter past five, for -the rest of the night.</p> - -<p>“I am more convinced every day, that there is not -only no knowledge of the world out of a great city, but -no decency, no practicable society—I had almost said -not a virtue. I will only instance in modesty, which all -<em>old Englishmen</em> are persuaded cannot exist within the -atmosphere of Middlesex. Lady Mary has a remarkable -taste and knowledge of music, and can sing—I don’t -say, like your sister; but I am sure she would be ready -to die if obliged to sing before three people, or before -one with whom she is not intimate. The other day -there came to see her a Norfolk heiress; the young -gentlewoman had not been three hours in the house, -and that for the first time of her life, before she notified -her talent for singing, and invited herself upstairs, to -Lady Mary’s harpsichord; where, with a voice like -thunder, and with as little harmony, she sang to nine -or ten people for an hour. ‘Was ever nymph like -Rossymonde?’—no, <i lang="fr">d’honneur</i>. We told her she had a -very strong voice. ‘Why, Sir! my master says it is -nothing to what it was.’ My dear child, she brags -abominably; if it had been a thousandth degree louder, -you must have heard it at Florence.”</p> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p> - -<p>Arrived in London, he is again in his element. “You -must be informed,” he writes to Conway, “that every -night constantly I go to Ranelagh, which has totally -beat Vauxhall. Nobody goes anywhere else—everybody -goes there. My Lord Chesterfield is so fond of it, that -he says he has ordered all his letters to be directed -thither. If you had never seen it, I would make you a -most pompous description of it, and tell you how the -floor is all of beaten princes—that you can’t set your -foot without treading on a Prince of Wales or Duke of -Cumberland. The company is universal: there is from -his Grace of Grafton down to children out of the -Foundling Hospital—from my Lady Townshend to the -kitten—from my Lord Sandys<a name="FNanchor_19" id="FNanchor_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a> to your humble cousin -and sincere friend.”</p> - -<p>From scenes like this Conway’s humble cousin was -removed, though not for long, by the last illness and -death of Lord Orford. The Rebellion of 1745, which -quickly followed, produced only a momentary stir in -London. But the trials and executions of the rebel -Lords, occurring in the Capital itself, excited longer -interest. We give Walpole’s narrative of the execution -of Lords Kilmarnock and Balmerino:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“Just before they came out of the Tower, Lord -Balmerino drank a bumper to King James’s health. As -the clock struck ten, they came forth on foot, Lord -Kilmarnock all in black, his hair unpowdered in a bag, -supported by Forster, the great Presbyterian, and by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> -Mr. Home, a young clergyman, his friend. Lord -Balmerino followed, alone, in a blue coat, turned up -with red, (his rebellious regimentals,) a flannel waistcoat, -and his shroud beneath; their hearses following. They -were conducted to a house near the scaffold: the room -forwards had benches for spectators, in the second -Lord Kilmarnock was put, and in the third backwards -Lord Balmerino: all three chambers hung with black. -Here they parted! Balmerino embraced the other, -and said, ‘My lord, I wish I could suffer for both!’ -He had scarce left him, before he desired again to see -him, and then asked him, ‘My Lord Kilmarnock, do -you know anything of the resolution taken in our army, -the day before the battle of Culloden, to put the English -prisoners to death?’ He replied, ‘My lord, I was not present; -but since I came hither, I have had all the reason in -the world to believe that there was such order taken; -and I hear the Duke has the pocket-book with the -order.’ Balmerino answered, ‘It was a lie raised to -excuse their barbarity to us.’—Take notice, that the -Duke’s charging this on Lord Kilmarnock (certainly on -misinformation) decided this unhappy man’s fate! The -most now pretended is, that it would have come to -Lord Kilmarnock’s turn to have given the word for the -slaughter, as lieutenant-general, with the patent for -which he was immediately drawn into the rebellion, -after having been staggered by his wife, her mother, his -own poverty, and the defeat of Cope. He remained an -hour and a half in the house, and shed tears. At last -he came to the scaffold, certainly much terrified, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> -with a resolution that prevented his behaving in the -least meanly or unlike a gentleman.<a name="FNanchor_20" id="FNanchor_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a> He took no -notice of the crowd, only to desire that the baize might -be lifted up from the rails, that the mob might see the -spectacle. He stood and prayed some time with Forster, -who wept over him, exhorted and encouraged him. He -delivered a long speech to the Sheriff, and with a noble -manliness stuck to the recantation he had made at his -trial; declaring he wished that all who embarked in the -same cause might meet the same fate. He then took -off his bag, coat and waistcoat, with great composure, -and after some trouble put on a napkin-cap, and then -several times tried the block; the executioner, who -was in white, with a white apron, out of tenderness -concealing the axe behind himself. At last the Earl -knelt down, with a visible unwillingness to depart, and -after five minutes dropped his handkerchief, the signal, -and his head was cut off at once, only hanging by a bit -of skin, and was received in a scarlet cloth by four of -the undertaker’s men kneeling, who wrapped it up and -put it into the coffin with the body; orders having -been given not to expose the heads, as used to be the -custom.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p> - -<p>“The scaffold was immediately new-strewed with -saw-dust, the block new-covered, the executioner new-dressed, -and a new axe brought. Then came old -Balmerino, treading with the air of a general. As soon -as he mounted the scaffold, he read the inscription on -his coffin, as he did again afterwards: he then surveyed -the spectators, who were in amazing numbers, even -upon masts of ships in the river; and pulling out his -spectacles, read a reasonable speech, which he delivered -to the Sheriff, and said, the young Pretender was so -sweet a Prince, that flesh and blood could not resist -following him; and lying down to try the block, he -said, ‘If I had a thousand lives, I would lay them all -down here in the same cause.’ He said, if he had not -taken the sacrament the day before, he would have -knocked down Williamson, the lieutenant of the Tower, -for his ill-usage of him. He took the axe and felt it, -and asked the headsman how many blows he had given -Lord Kilmarnock; and gave him three guineas. Two -clergymen, who attended him, coming up, he said, -‘No, gentlemen, I believe you have already done me -all the service you can.’ Then he went to the corner -of the scaffold, and called very loud for the warder, to -give him his periwig, which he took off, and put on a -night-cap of Scotch plaid, and then pulled off his coat -and waistcoat and lay down; but being told he was on -the wrong side, vaulted round, and immediately gave -the sign by tossing up his arm, as if he were giving -the signal for battle. He received three blows, but -the first certainly took away all sensation. He was not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> -a quarter of an hour on the scaffold; Lord Kilmarnock -above half a one. Balmerino certainly died with the -intrepidity of a hero, but with the insensibility of one -too. As he walked from his prison to execution, seeing -every window and top of house filled with spectators, -he cried out, ‘Look, look, how they are all piled up like -rotten oranges!’”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Horace was now in the full tide of fashion, not to say -dissipation. For a good many years the opera, plays, -balls, routs, and other diversions public and private -occupy as much space in his letters as the war or the -peace, the debates in Parliament, and the intrigues of -party leaders. Mingled with topics of both kinds, we -have journeys to visit great houses in the country, -schemes for their improvement, designs for the Gothic -villa at Strawberry Hill, abundance of scandal, and -playful satire on the follies of the day. Here is an -amusing account of the sensation produced by the -earthquake which alarmed London in 1750. It will be -seen that the more serious feelings which the event -awakened were as ridiculous in Walpole’s eyes as any -part of the panic:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“‘Portents and prodigies are grown so frequent,</div> -<div class="verse">That they have lost their name.’</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>“My text is not literally true; but as far as earthquakes -go towards lowering the price of wonderful -commodities, to be sure we are overstocked. We have -had a second, much more violent than the first; and -you must not be surprised if by next post you hear -of a burning mountain sprung up in Smithfield. In the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> -night between Wednesday and Thursday last, (exactly -a month since the first shock,) the earth had a shivering -fit between one and two; but so slight that, if no more -had followed, I don’t believe it would have been noticed. -I had been awake, and had scarce dozed again—on a -sudden I felt my bolster lift up my head; I thought -somebody was getting from under my bed, but soon -found it was a strong earthquake, that lasted near half -a minute, with a violent vibration and great roaring. I -rang my bell; my servant came in, frightened out of his -senses: in an instant we heard all the windows in the -neighbourhood flung up. I got up and found people -running into the streets, but saw no mischief done: -there has been some; two old houses flung down, -several chimneys, and much china-ware. The bells -rang in several houses. Admiral Knowles, who has -lived long in Jamaica, and felt seven there, says this -was more violent than any of them: Francesco prefers -it to the dreadful one at Leghorn. The wise say, that -if we have not rain soon, we shall certainly have more. -Several people are going out of town, for it has nowhere -reached above ten miles from London: they say, they -are not frightened, but that it is such fine weather, -‘Why, one can’t help going into the country!’ The -only visible effect it has had, was on the ridotto, at -which, being the following night, there were but four -hundred people. A parson, who came into White’s -the morning of earthquake the first, and heard bets -laid on whether it was an earthquake or the blowing up -of powder-mills, went away exceedingly scandalised,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> -and said, ‘I protest, they are such an impious set of -people, that I believe if the last trumpet was to sound, -they would bet puppet-show against Judgment.’ If we -get any nearer still to the torrid zone, I shall pique myself -on sending you a present of cedrati and orange-flower -water: I am already planning a <i lang="it">terreno</i> for Strawberry -Hill.…</p> - -<p>“You will not wonder so much at our earthquakes as -at the effects they have had. All the women in town -have taken them up upon the foot of <em>Judgments</em>; and -the clergy, who have had no windfalls of a long season, -have driven horse and foot into this opinion. There -has been a shower of sermons and exhortations: -Secker,<a name="FNanchor_21" id="FNanchor_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a> the jesuitical Bishop of Oxford, began the -mode. He heard the women were all going out of -town to avoid the next shock; and so, for fear of losing -his Easter offerings, he set himself to advise them to -await God’s good pleasure in fear and trembling. But -what is more astonishing, Sherlock,<a name="FNanchor_22" id="FNanchor_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a> who has much -better sense, and much less of the Popish confessor, -has been running a race with him for the old ladies, -and has written a pastoral letter, of which ten thousand -were sold in two days; and fifty thousand have been -subscribed for, since the two first editions.</p> - -<p>“I told you the women talked of going out of town: -several families are literally gone, and many more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> -going to-day and to-morrow; for what adds to the -absurdity is, that the second shock having happened -exactly a month after the former, it prevails that there -will be a third on Thursday next, another month, which -is to swallow up London. I am almost ready to burn -my letter now I have begun it, lest you should think I -am laughing at you: but it is so true, that Arthur of -White’s told me last night, that he should put off the -last ridotto, which was to be on Thursday, because he -hears nobody would come to it. I have advised several -who are going to keep their next earthquake in the -country, to take the bark for it, as it is so periodic. -Dick Leveson and Mr. Rigby, who had supped and -stayed late at Bedford House the other night, knocked -at several doors, and in a watchman’s voice cried, -‘Past four o’clock, and a dreadful earthquake!’ But I -have done with this ridiculous panic: two pages were -too much to talk of it.…</p> - -<p>“I had not time to finish my letter on Monday. I -return to the earthquake, which I had mistaken; it is -to be to-day. This frantic terror prevails so much, -that within these three days seven hundred and thirty -coaches have been counted passing Hyde Park Corner, -with whole parties removing into the country. Here is -a good advertisement which I cut out of the papers to-day:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“‘On Monday next will be published (price 6<i>d.</i>) A true and exact -List of all the Nobility and Gentry who have left, or shall leave, -this place through fear of another Earthquake.’</p> - -</div> - -<p>“Several women have made earthquake gowns; that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> -is, warm gowns to sit out of doors all to-night. These -are of the more courageous. One woman, still more -heroic, is come to town on purpose; she says, all her -friends are in London, and she will not survive them. -But what will you think of Lady Catherine Pelham, -Lady Frances Arundel, and Lord and Lady Galway, -who go this evening to an inn ten miles out of town, -where they are to play at brag till five in the morning, -and then come back—I suppose, to look for the bones -of their husbands and families under the rubbish? The -prophet of all this (next to the Bishop of London) is a -trooper of Lord Delawar’s, who was yesterday sent to -Bedlam. His <em>colonel</em> sent to the man’s wife, and asked -her if her husband had ever been disordered before. -She cried, ‘Oh dear! my lord, he is not mad now; if -your <em>lordship</em> would but get any <em>sensible</em> man to examine -him, you would find he is quite in his right mind.’…</p> - -<p>“I did not doubt but you would be diverted with the -detail of absurdities that were committed after the -earthquake: I could have filled more paper with such -relations, if I had not feared tiring you. We have -swarmed with sermons, essays, relations, poems, and -exhortations on that subject. One Stukely, a parson, -has accounted for it, and I think prettily, by electricity—but -that is the fashionable cause, and everything is -resolved into electrical appearances, as formerly everything -was accounted for by Descartes’s vortices, and Sir -Isaac’s gravitation. But they all take care, after -accounting for the earthquake systematically, to assure<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> -you that still it was nothing less than a judgment. Dr. -Barton, the Rector of St. Andrew’s, was the only -sensible, or at least honest divine, upon the occasion. -When some women would have had him pray to them -in his parish church against the intended shock, he -excused himself on having a great cold. ‘And besides,’ -said he, ‘you may go to St. James’s Church; the Bishop -of Oxford is to preach there all night about earthquakes.’ -Turner, a great china-man, at the corner of next street, -had a jar cracked by the shock: he originally asked -ten guineas for the pair: he now asks twenty, ‘because -it is the only jar in Europe that has been cracked by -an earthquake.’”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Not long after the earthquake, we find Walpole -engaged in a frolic at Vauxhall, though in the best -company, Lady Caroline Petersham, his hostess on the -occasion, being the dashing wife<a name="FNanchor_23" id="FNanchor_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a> of Lord Petersham, -eldest son of the Earl of Harrington, who had been -Secretary of State. We insert Walpole’s history of -the affair for the reason which he gives for telling it. -It is part of a letter to George Montagu. After a jest -about the habits of Buxton, where his friend’s sister was -then drinking the waters, the writer proceeds:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“As jolly and as abominable a life as she may have -been leading, I defy all her enormities to equal a party -of pleasure that I had t’other night. I shall relate it -to you to show you the manners of the age, which are -always as entertaining to a person fifty miles off as to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> -one born an hundred and fifty years after the time. I -had a card from Lady Caroline Petersham to go with -her to Vauxhall. I went accordingly to her house, and -found her and the little Ashe, or the Pollard Ashe, as -they call her; they had just finished their last layer of -red, and looked as handsome as crimson could make -them.… We issued into the Mall to assemble our -company, which was all the town, if we could get it; -for just so many had been summoned, except Harry -Vane, whom we met by chance. We mustered the -Duke of Kingston, whom Lady Caroline says she has -been trying for these seven years; but alas! his beauty -is at the fall of the leaf; Lord March, Mr. Whitehed, a -pretty Miss Beauclerc, and a very foolish Miss Sparre. -These two damsels were trusted by their mothers for -the first time of their lives to the matronly care of Lady -Caroline. As we sailed up the Mall with all our colours -flying, Lord Petersham,<a name="FNanchor_24" id="FNanchor_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> with his hose and legs twisted -to every point of crossness, strode by us on the outside, -and repassed again on the return. At the end of the -Mall she called to him; he would not answer: she gave -a familiar spring, and, between laugh and confusion, -ran up to him, ‘My lord, my lord! why, you don’t see -us!’ We advanced at a little distance, not a little -awkward in expectation how all this would end, for my -lord never stirred his hat, or took the least notice of -anybody: she said, ‘Do you go with us, or are <em>you -going anywhere else</em>?’—‘I don’t go with you, I am going -<em>somewhere else</em>;’ and away he stalked, as sulky as a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> -ghost that nobody will speak to first. We got into the -best order we could, and marched to our barge, with -a boat of French horns attending, and little Ashe -singing. We paraded some time up the river, and at -last debarked at Vauxhall: there, if we had so pleased, -we might have had the vivacity of our party increased -by a quarrel; for a Mrs. Lloyd,<a name="FNanchor_25" id="FNanchor_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a> who is supposed to be -married to Lord Haddington, seeing the two girls -following Lady Petersham and Miss Ashe, said aloud, -‘Poor girls, I am sorry to see them in such bad company!’ -Miss Sparre, who desired nothing so much as -the fun of seeing a duel—a thing which, though she is -fifteen, she has never been so lucky as to see,—took due -pains to make Lord March resent this; but he, who is -very lively and agreeable, laughed her out of this -charming frolic with a great deal of humour. Here we -picked up Lord Granby.… If all the adventures -don’t conclude as you expect in the beginning of a -paragraph, you must not wonder, for I am not making -a history, but relating one strictly as it happened, and I -think with full entertainment enough to content you. At -last, we assembled in our booth, Lady Caroline in the -front, with the vizor of her hat erect, and looking -gloriously jolly and handsome. She had fetched my -brother Orford from the next box, where he was enjoying -himself with his <i lang="fr">petite partie</i>, to help us to mince -chickens. We minced seven chickens into a china -dish, which Lady Caroline stewed over a lamp with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> -three pats of butter and a flagon of water, stirring, and -rattling, and laughing, and we every minute expecting -to have the dish fly about our ears. She had brought -Betty, the fruit-girl, with hampers of strawberries and -cherries from Rogers’s, and made her wait upon us, and -then made her sup by us at a little table. The conversation -was no less lively than the whole transaction. -There was a Mr. O’Brien arrived from Ireland, who -would get the Duchess of Manchester from Mr. Hussey,<a name="FNanchor_26" id="FNanchor_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a> -if she were still at liberty. I took up the biggest hautboy -in the dish, and said to Lady Caroline, ‘Madam, Miss -Ashe desires you would eat this O’Brien strawberry;’ -she replied immediately, ‘I won’t, you hussey.’ You -may imagine the laugh this reply occasioned. After -the tempest was a little calmed, the Pollard said, -‘Now, how anybody would spoil this story that was to -repeat it, and say, I won’t, you jade!’ In short, the -whole air of our party was sufficient, as you will easily -imagine, to take up the whole attention of the garden; -so much so, that from eleven o’clock till half an hour -after one we had the whole concourse round our booth: -at last, they came into the little gardens of each booth -on the sides of ours, till Harry Vane took up a bumper, -and drank their healths, and was proceeding to treat -them with still greater freedom. It was three o’clock -before we got home.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Our next extract displays even better than the last<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> -our author’s skill in telling a story. It also contains -some pleasant references to his life at Strawberry Hill:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“I have just been in London for two or three days, -to fetch an adventure, and am returned to my hill and -my castle. I can’t say I lost my labour, as you shall -hear. Last Sunday night, being as wet a night as you -shall see in a summer’s day, about half an hour after -twelve, I was just come home from White’s, and undressing -to step into bed, when I heard Harry, who you -know lies forwards, roar out, ‘Stop thief!’ and run -down stairs. I ran after him. Don’t be frightened; I -have not lost one enamel, nor bronze, nor have been -shot through the head again. A gentlewoman, who -lives at Governor Pitt’s, next door but one to me, and -where Mr. Bentley used to live, was going to bed too, -and heard people breaking into Mr. Freeman’s house, -who, like some acquaintance of mine in Albemarle -Street, goes out of town, locks up his doors, and leaves -the community to watch his furniture. N.B. It was -broken open but two years ago, and I and all the chairmen -vow they shall steal his house away another time, -before we will trouble our heads about it. Well, -madam called out ‘Watch!’ two men, who were -sentinels, ran away, and Harry’s voice after them. -Down came I, and with a posse of chairmen and -watchmen found the third fellow in the area of Mr. -Freeman’s house. Mayhap you have seen all this in -the papers, little thinking who commanded the detachment. -Harry fetched a blunderbuss to invite the thief -up. One of the chairmen, who was drunk, cried,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> -‘Give me the blunderbuss, I’ll shoot him!’ But as the -general’s head was a little cooler, he prevented military -execution, and took the prisoner, without bloodshed, -intending to make his triumphal entry into the metropolis -of Twickenham with his captive tied to the wheels -of his post-chaise. I find my style rises so much with -the recollection of my victory, that I don’t know how -to descend to tell you that the enemy was a carpenter, -and had a leather apron on. The next step was to -share my glory with my friends. I despatched a courier -to White’s for George Selwyn, who, you know, loves -nothing upon earth so well as a criminal, except the -execution of him. It happened very luckily that the -drawer, who received my message, has very lately been -robbed himself, and had the wound fresh in his memory. -He stalked up into the club-room, stopped short, and -with a hollow trembling voice said, ‘Mr. Selwyn! Mr. -Walpole’s compliments to you, and he has got a housebreaker -for you!’ A squadron immediately came to -reinforce me, and having summoned Moreland with -the keys of the fortress, we marched into the house to -search for more of the gang. Col. Seabright with his -sword drawn went first, and then I, exactly the figure -of Robinson Crusoe, with a candle and lanthorn in my -hand, a carbine upon my shoulder, my hair wet and -about my ears, and in a linen night-gown and slippers. -We found the kitchen shutters forced, but not finished; -and in the area a tremendous bag of tools, a hammer -large enough for the hand of a Jael, and six chisels! -All which <i lang="la">opima spolia</i>, as there was no temple of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> -Jupiter Capitolinus in the neighbourhood, I was reduced -to offer on the altar of Sir Thomas Clarges.</p> - -<p>“I am now, as I told you, returned to my plough -with as much humility and pride as any of my great -predecessors. We lead quite a rural life, have had a -sheep-shearing, a hay-making, a syllabub under the -cow, and a fishing of three gold-fish out of Poyang,<a name="FNanchor_27" id="FNanchor_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a> -for a present to Madam Clive. They breed with me -excessively, and are grown to the size of small perch. -Everything grows, if tempests would let it; but I have -had two of my largest trees broke to-day with the wind, -and another last week. I am much obliged to you for -the flower you offer me, but by the description it is an -Austrian rose, and I have several now in bloom. Mr. -Bentley is with me, finishing the drawings for Gray’s -Odes; there are some mandarin-cats fishing for gold-fish, -which will delight you.…</p> - -<p>“You will be pleased with a story of Lord Bury, that -is come from Scotland: he is quartered at Inverness; -the magistrates invited him to an entertainment with -fire-works, which they intended to give on the morrow -for the Duke’s birth-day. He thanked them, assured -them he would represent their zeal to his Royal Highness; -but he did not doubt it would be more agreeable -to him, if they postponed it to the day following, the -anniversary of the battle of Culloden. They stared, -said they could not promise on their own authority, but -would go and consult their body. They returned, told<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> -him it was unprecedented, and could not be complied -with. Lord Bury replied, he was sorry they had not -given a negative at once, for he had mentioned it to his -soldiers, who would not bear a disappointment, and was -afraid it would provoke them to some outrage upon the -town. This did;—they celebrated Culloden.…”</p> - -</div> - -<p>A few years later Strawberry Hill had attained its -greatest celebrity. In June, 1759, Walpole writes:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“Strawberry Hill is grown a perfect Paphos; it is the -land of beauties. On Wednesday the Duchesses of -Hamilton and Richmond, and Lady Ailesbury dined -there; the two latter stayed all night. There never -was so pretty a sight as to see them all three sitting in -the shell; a thousand years hence, when I begin to -grow old, if that can ever be, I shall talk of that event, -and tell young people how much handsomer the women -of my time were than they will be then: I shall say, -‘Women alter now; I remember Lady Ailesbury looking -handsomer than her daughter, the pretty Duchess -of Richmond, as they were sitting in the shell on my -terrace with the Duchess of Hamilton, one of the -famous Gunnings.’ Yesterday t’other more famous -Gunning [Lady Coventry] dined there. She has made -a friendship with my charming niece, to disguise her -jealousy of the new Countess’s beauty: there were they -two, their lords, Lord Buckingham, and Charlotte. -You will think that I did not choose men for my parties -so well as women. I don’t include Lord Waldegrave in -this bad election.”</p> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p> - -<p>The famous Gunnings referred to in the last passage -figure often in Walpole’s letters. These two ladies were -the daughters of Irish parents, and though of noble -blood on the mother’s side, are said to have been -originally so poor that they had thought of being -actresses; and when they were first presented at -Dublin Castle, they were supplied with clothes for the -occasion by Mrs. Woffington, the actress. On their -arrival in England, their beauty created such an impression, -that they were followed by crowds in the -Park and at Vauxhall. We even read that Maria, the -elder, some years after her marriage, having been -mobbed in the Park, was attended by a guard of -soldiers. Maria married the Earl of Coventry, and -died many years before her husband. Her younger -sister, Elizabeth, who was reckoned the less beautiful -of the two, married, first, the Duke of Hamilton, and, -secondly, Colonel John Campbell, afterwards Duke of -Argyll, for whom she had refused the Duke of Bridgewater. -The penniless Irish girl, Elizabeth Gunning, -was the mother of two Dukes of Hamilton and two -Dukes of Argyll. Walpole’s niece, of whom he suggests -Lady Coventry was jealous, was a natural -daughter of his brother, Sir Edward Walpole, and -was then the bride of the Earl of Waldegrave, after -whose death she became Duchess of Gloucester, by -a clandestine marriage with George III.’s younger -brother. By her first husband she had three daughters, -the Ladies Waldegrave, whose portraits, by Reynolds, -are included in this volume.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p> - -<p>Before we leave that portion of Horace Walpole’s -correspondence which belongs to the reign of -George II., we will give one letter of a character different -from those we have previously selected. It is -addressed to Sir David Dalrymple, afterwards Lord -Hailes, and deals entirely with literary subjects. The -“Irish poems” referred to in it are, of course, the first -fragments of “Ossian,” then recently published by -Macpherson:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Strawberry Hill, April 4, 1760.</p> - -<p>“As I have very little at present to trouble you with -myself, I should have deferred writing till a better -opportunity, if it were not to satisfy the curiosity of a -friend; a friend whom you, Sir, will be glad to have -made curious, as you originally pointed him out as a -likely person to be charmed with the old Irish poetry -you sent me. It is Mr. Gray, who is an enthusiast -about those poems, and begs me to put the following -queries to you; which I will do in his own words, and I -may say truly, <i lang="la">Poeta loquitur</i>.</p> - -<p>“‘I am so charmed with the two specimens of -Erse poetry, that I cannot help giving you the trouble -to inquire a little farther about them, and should wish -to see a few lines of the original, that I may form -some slight idea of the language, the measures, and -the rhythm.</p> - -<p>“‘Is there anything known of the author or authors, -and of what antiquity are they supposed to be?</p> - -<p>“‘Is there any more to be had of equal beauty, or at -all approaching to it?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p> - -<p>“‘I have been often told, that the poem called -Hardykanute<a name="FNanchor_28" id="FNanchor_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a> (which I always admired and still -admire) was the work of somebody that lived a few -years ago. This I do not at all believe, though it has -evidently been retouched in places by some modern -hand; but, however, I am authorised by this report to -ask, whether the two poems in question are certainly -antique and genuine. I make this inquiry in quality of -an antiquary, and am not otherwise concerned about -it; for if I were sure that anyone now living in -Scotland had written them, to divert himself and -laugh at the credulity of the world, I would undertake -a journey into the Highlands only for the pleasure of -seeing him.’</p> - -<p>“You see, Sir, how easily you may make our greatest -southern bard travel northward to visit a brother. The -young translator has nothing to do but to own a forgery, -and Mr. Gray is ready to pack up his lyre, saddle -Pegasus, and set out directly. But seriously, he, Mr. -Mason, my Lord Lyttelton, and one or two more, -whose taste the world allows, are in love with your -Erse elegies: I cannot say in general they are so much -admired—but Mr. Gray alone is worth satisfying.</p> - -<p>“The ‘Siege of Aquileia,’ of which you ask, pleased -less than Mr. Home’s other plays.<a name="FNanchor_29" id="FNanchor_29"></a><a href="#Footnote_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a> In my own opinion,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> -‘Douglas’ far exceeds both the others. Mr. Home -seems to have a beautiful talent for painting genuine -nature and the manners of his country. There was so -little of nature in the manners of both Greeks and -Romans, that I do not wonder at his success being less -brilliant when he tried those subjects; and, to say the -truth, one is a little weary of them. At present, nothing -is talked of, nothing admired, but what I cannot help -calling a very insipid and tedious performance: it is a -kind of novel, called ‘The Life and Opinions of Tristram -Shandy;’ the great humour of which consists in -the whole narration always going backwards. I can -conceive a man saying that it would be droll to write -a book in that manner, but have no notion of his persevering -in executing it. It makes one smile two or three -times at the beginning, but in recompense makes one -yawn for two hours. The characters are tolerably kept -up, but the humour is for ever attempted and missed. -The best thing in it is a Sermon, oddly coupled with a -good deal of indecency, and both the composition of -a clergyman. The man’s head, indeed, was a little -turned before, now topsy-turvy with his success and -fame. Dodsley has given him six hundred and fifty -pounds for the second edition and two more volumes -(which I suppose will reach backwards to his great-great-grandfather); -Lord Fauconberg, a donative<a name="FNanchor_30" id="FNanchor_30"></a><a href="#Footnote_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a> of -one hundred and sixty pounds a year; and Bishop Warburton -gave him a purse of gold and this compliment -(which happened to be a contradiction), ‘that it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> -quite an original composition, and in the true Cervantic -vein:’ the only copy that ever was an original, except in -painting, where they all pretend to be so. Warburton, -however, not content with this, recommended the book -to the bench of bishops, and told them Mr. Sterne, the -author, was the English Rabelais. They had never -heard of such a writer. Adieu!”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 490px;" id="illus1"> - -<img src="images/illus1.jpg" width="490" height="650" alt="" /> - -<p class="caption-credit"><i>Sir Joshua Reynolds. Pinx.</i> <span class="caption-center"><i>A. Dawson. Ph. Sc.</i></span> <i>E. Fisher. Sc.</i></p> - -<p class="caption-main"><i>Lawrence Sterne.</i></p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</h2> - -<div class="summary"> - -<p>A new reign.—Funeral of the late King.—Houghton revisited.—Election -at Lynn.—Marriage of George the Third.—His Coronation.</p> - -</div> - -<p>The accession of George III. was the beginning -of a new era in English society. The character of -George II. could inspire no respect. His successor, -with all his faults, did as much perhaps towards -reforming the manners of the higher classes as a more -enlightened prince could have effected. His regular -life and the strictness of his Court applied a pressure -answering to that which grew daily stronger from below. -The chief want of the aristocracy at this time was not -so much culture as something more vitally important. -Culture they did, indeed, sorely lack, but many influences -among themselves were tending to promote -this. What they mainly needed to have enforced upon -them from without was some regard to the first principles -of social order, some recognition of moral and -religious obligations. Those who despise the formalism -of George III.’s reign, may reflect that to impose -external decorum on the society represented in Hogarth’s -pictures was of itself no trifling improvement. Even<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> -this was some time in coming. It was retarded by the -mistaken system of government which for a long while -rendered the Crown unpopular. Still the signs of a -change for the better gradually became apparent; and -when the close of the American War had removed the -last subject of national discontent, the great majority of -the upper, as well as of the middle ranks, rallied round -the throne as the mainstay of public morality, supporting -the King and the sedate minister of his choice -against a rival whose irregularities recalled the disorders -of a former time.</p> - -<p>We give the letter in which Walpole describes the -funeral of George II. It should be stated that the -writer did not long retain the favourable opinion he -here expresses of the new Sovereign:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Arlington Street, Nov. 13, 1760.</p> - -<p>“Even the honeymoon of a new reign don’t produce -events every day. There is nothing but the common -saying of addresses and kissing hands. The chief difficulty -is settled; Lord Gower yields the Mastership of -the Horse to Lord Huntingdon, and removes to the -Great Wardrobe, from whence Sir Thomas Robinson -was to have gone into Ellis’s place, but he is saved. -The City, however, have a mind to be out of humour; -a paper has been fixed on the Royal Exchange, with -these words, ‘No petticoat Government, no Scotch -Minister, no Lord George Sackville;’ two hints totally -unfounded, and the other scarce true. No petticoat -ever governed less, it is left at Leicester-house; Lord -George’s breeches are as little concerned; and, except<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> -Lady Susan Stuart and Sir Harry Erskine, nothing has -yet been done for any Scots. For the King himself, he -seems all good-nature, and wishing to satisfy everybody; -all his speeches are obliging. I saw him again -yesterday, and was surprised to find the levee-room had -lost so entirely the air of the lion’s den. This Sovereign -don’t stand in one spot, with his eyes fixed royally -on the ground, and dropping bits of German news; he -walks about, and speaks to everybody. I saw him -afterwards on the throne, where he is graceful and -genteel, sits with dignity, and reads his answers to -addresses well; it was the Cambridge address, carried -by the Duke of Newcastle in his Doctor’s gown, and -looking like the <i lang="fr">Médecin malgré lui</i>. He had been vehemently -solicitous for attendance, for fear my Lord -Westmoreland, who vouchsafes himself to bring the -address from Oxford, should outnumber him. Lord -Lichfield and several other Jacobites have kissed -hands; George Selwyn says, ‘They go to St James’s, -because now there are so many <em>Stuarts</em> there.’</p> - -<p>“Do you know, I had the curiosity to go to the burying -t’other night; I had never seen a royal funeral; -nay, I walked as a rag of quality, which I found would -be, and so it was, the easiest way of seeing it. It is -absolutely a noble sight. The Prince’s chamber, hung -with purple, and a quantity of silver lamps, the coffin -under a canopy of purple velvet, and six vast chandeliers -of silver on high stands, had a very good effect. -The Ambassador from Tripoli and his son were carried -to see that chamber. The procession, through a line<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> -of foot-guards, every seventh man bearing a torch, the -horse-guards lining the outside, their officers with drawn -sabres and crape sashes on horseback, the drums muffled, -the fifes, bells tolling, and minute-guns,—all this was -very solemn. But the charm was the entrance of the -Abbey, where we were received by the Dean and -Chapter in rich robes, the choir and almsmen bearing -torches; the whole Abbey so illuminated, that one saw -it to greater advantage than by day; the tombs, long -aisles, and fretted roof, all appearing distinctly, and -with the happiest <i lang="it">chiaroscuro</i>. There wanted nothing -but incense, and little chapels here and there, with -priests saying mass for the repose of the defunct; yet -one could not complain of its not being catholic enough. -I had been in dread of being coupled with some boy of -ten years old; but the heralds were not very accurate, -and I walked with George Grenville, taller and older, to -keep me in countenance. When we came to the chapel -of Henry the Seventh, all solemnity and decorum ceased; -no order was observed, people sat or stood where they -could or would; the yeomen of the guard were crying -out for help, oppressed by the immense weight of the -coffin; the Bishop read sadly, and blundered in the -prayers; the fine chapter, <cite>Man that is born of a woman</cite>, -was chanted, not read; and the anthem, besides being -immeasurably tedious, would have served as well for a -nuptial. The real serious part was the figure of the -Duke of Cumberland, heightened by a thousand melancholy -circumstances. He had a dark brown adonis, -and a cloak of black cloth, with a train of five yards.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> -Attending the funeral of a father could not be pleasant: -his leg extremely bad, yet forced to stand upon it near -two hours; his face bloated and distorted with his late -paralytic stroke, which has affected, too, one of his eyes, -and placed over the mouth of the vault, into which, in -all probability, he must himself so soon descend; think -how unpleasant a situation! He bore it all with a firm -and unaffected countenance. This grave scene was -fully contrasted by the burlesque Duke of Newcastle. -He fell into a fit of crying the moment he came into the -chapel, and flung himself back in a stall, the Archbishop -hovering over him with a smelling-bottle; but in two -minutes his curiosity got the better of his hypocrisy, and -he ran about the chapel with his glass to spy who was -or was not there, spying with one hand, and mopping -his eyes with the other. Then returned the fear of -catching cold; and the Duke of Cumberland, who was -sinking with heat, felt himself weighed down, and turning -round, found it was the Duke of Newcastle standing -upon his train, to avoid the chill of the marble. It -was very theatric to look down into the vault where the -coffin lay, attended by mourners with lights. Clavering, -the groom of the bedchamber, refused to sit up -with the body, and was dismissed by the King’s order.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>The demise of the Crown, of course, dissolved Parliament. -Horace Walpole went down to Houghton to be -re-elected for Lynn:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Houghton, March 25, 1761.</p> - -<p>“Here I am at Houghton! and alone! in this spot, -where (except two hours last month) I have not been in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> -sixteen years! Think, what a crowd of reflections! -No; Gray, and forty churchyards, could not furnish so -many; nay, I know one must feel them with greater -indifference than I possess, to have patience to put -them into verse. Here I am, probably for the last time -of my life, though not for the last time: every clock -that strikes tells me I am an hour nearer to yonder -church—that church, into which I have not yet had -courage to enter, where lies that mother on whom I -doated, and who doated on me! There are the two -rival mistresses of Houghton, neither of whom ever -wished to enjoy it! There too lies he who founded its -greatness, to contribute to whose fall Europe was -embroiled; there he sleeps in quiet and dignity, while -his friend and his foe, rather his false ally and real -enemy, Newcastle and Bath, are exhausting the dregs -of their pitiful lives in squabbles and pamphlets.<a name="FNanchor_31" id="FNanchor_31"></a><a href="#Footnote_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a></p> - -<p>“The surprise the pictures gave me is again renewed; -accustomed for many years to see nothing but wretched -daubs and varnished copies at auctions, I look at these -as enchantment. My own description of them seems -poor; but shall I tell you truly, the majesty of Italian -ideas almost sinks before the warm nature of Flemish -colouring. Alas! don’t I grow old? My young -imagination was fired with Guido’s ideas: must they -be plump as Abishag to warm me now? Does great<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> -youth feel with poetic limbs, as well as see with poetic -eyes? In one respect I am very young, I cannot -satiate myself with looking: an incident contributed to -make me feel this more strongly. A party arrived, just -as I did, to see the house, a man and three women in -riding-dresses, and they rode post through the apartments. -I could not hurry before them fast enough; -they were not so long in seeing for the first time, as I -could have been in one room, to examine what I knew -by heart. I remember formerly being often diverted -with this kind of <em>seers</em>; they come, ask what such a -room is called, in which Sir Robert lay, write it down, -admire a lobster or a cabbage in a market-piece, dispute -whether the last room was green or purple, and -then hurry to the inn for fear the fish should be overdressed. -How different my sensations! not a picture -here but recalls a history; not one, but I remember in -Downing-street or Chelsea, where queens and crowds -admired them, though seeing them as little as these -travellers!</p> - -<p>“When I had drunk tea, I strolled into the garden; -they told me it was now called the <em>pleasure-ground</em>. -What a dissonant idea of pleasure! those groves, those -<i lang="fr">allées</i>, where I have passed so many charming moments, -are now stripped up or overgrown—many fond paths I -could not unravel, though with a very exact clew in my -memory: I met two gamekeepers, and a thousand -hares! In the days when all my soul was tuned to -pleasure and vivacity (and you will think, perhaps, it is -far from being out of tune yet), I hated Houghton and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> -its solitude; yet I loved this garden, as now, with many -regrets, I love Houghton; Houghton, I know not what -to call it, a monument of grandeur or ruin! How I -have wished this evening for Lord Bute! how I could -preach to him! For myself, I do not want to be -preached to; I have long considered, how every Balbec -must wait for the chance of a Mr. Wood. The servants -wanted to lay me in the great apartment—what, -to make me pass my night as I have done my evening! -It were like proposing to Margaret Roper to be a -duchess in the court that cut off her father’s head, and -imagining it would please her. I have chosen to sit in -my father’s little dressing-room, and am now by his -scrutoire, where, in the height of his fortune, he used to -receive the accounts of his farmers, and deceive himself, -or us, with the thoughts of his economy. How wise a -man at once, and how weak! For what has he built -Houghton? for his grandson to annihilate, or for his -son to mourn over. If Lord Burleigh could rise and -view his representative driving the Hatfield stage, he -would feel as I feel now. Poor little Strawberry! at -least, it will not be stripped to pieces by a descendant! -You will find all these fine meditations dictated by -pride, not by philosophy. Pray consider through how -many mediums philosophy must pass, before it is purified—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“‘—— how often must it weep, how often burn!’</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>“My mind was extremely prepared for all this gloom -by parting with Mr. Conway yesterday morning; moral -reflections or commonplaces are the livery one likes to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> -wear, when one has just had a real misfortune. He is -going to Germany: I was glad to dress myself up in -transitory Houghton, in lieu of very sensible concern. -To-morrow I shall be distracted with thoughts, at least -images of very different complexion. I go to Lynn, and -am to be elected on Friday. I shall return hither on -Saturday, again alone, to expect Burleighides on Sunday, -whom I left at Newmarket. I must once in my life -see him on his grandfather’s throne.</p> - -<p>“<i>Epping</i>, <i>Monday night, thirty-first</i>.—No, I have not -seen him; he loitered on the road, and I was kept at -Lynn till yesterday morning. It is plain I never knew -for how many trades I was formed, when at this time of -day I can begin electioneering, and succeed in my new -vocation. Think of me, the subject of a mob, who was -scarce ever before in a mob, addressing them in the -town-hall, riding at the head of two thousand people -through such a town as Lynn, dining with above two -hundred of them, amid bumpers, huzzas, songs, and -tobacco, and finishing with country dancing at a ball -and sixpenny whist! I have borne it all cheerfully; -nay, have sat hours in <em>conversation</em>, the thing upon earth -that I hate; have been to hear misses play on the -harpsichord, and to see an alderman’s copies of Rubens -and Carlo Marat. Yet to do the folks justice, they are -sensible, and reasonable, and civilised; their very language -is polished since I lived among them. I attribute -this to their more frequent intercourse with the -world and the capital, by the help of good roads and -postchaises, which, if they have abridged the King’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> -dominions, have at least tamed his subjects. Well, -how comfortable it will be to-morrow, to see my -parroquet, to play at loo, and not be obliged to talk -seriously! The Heraclitus of the beginning of this -letter will be overjoyed on finishing it to sign himself -your old friend,</p> - -<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Democritus</span>.</p> - -<p>“P.S. I forgot to tell you that my ancient aunt -Hammond came over to Lynn to see me; not from -any affection, but curiosity. The first thing she said -to me, though we have not met these sixteen years, -was, ‘Child, you have done a thing to-day, that your -father never did in all his life; you sat as they carried -you,—he always stood the whole time.’ ‘Madam,’ said -I, ‘when I am placed in a chair, I conclude I am to sit -in it; besides, as I cannot imitate my father in great -things, I am not at all ambitious of mimicking him -in little ones.’ I am sure she proposes to tell her -remarks to my uncle Horace’s ghost, the instant they -meet.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>The King’s marriage followed a few months later:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Arlington Street, Sept. 10, 1761.</p> - -<p>“When we least expected the Queen, she came, -after being ten days at sea, but without sickness for -above half-an-hour. She was gay the whole voyage, -sung to her harpsichord, and left the door of her cabin -open. They made the coast of Suffolk last Saturday, -and on Monday morning she landed at Harwich; -so prosperously has Lord Anson executed his commission.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> -She lay that night at your old friend Lord -Abercorn’s, at Witham in Essex; and, if she judged by -her host, must have thought she was coming to reign in -the realm of taciturnity. She arrived at St. James’s a -quarter after three on Tuesday the 8th. When she -first saw the Palace she turned pale: the Duchess of -Hamilton smiled. ‘My dear Duchess,’ said the Princess, -‘<em>you</em> may laugh; you have been married twice; -but it is no joke to me.’ Is this a bad proof of her -sense? On the journey they wanted her to curl her -toupet. ‘No, indeed,’ said she, ‘I think it looks as -well as those of the ladies who have been sent for me: -if the King would have me wear a periwig, I will; otherwise -I shall let myself alone.’ The Duke of York gave -her his hand at the garden-gate: her lips trembled, but -she jumped out with spirit. In the garden the King -met her; she would have fallen at his feet; he prevented -and embraced her, and led her into the apartments, -where she was received by the Princess of -Wales and Lady Augusta: these three princesses -only dined with the King. At ten the procession went -to chapel, preceded by unmarried daughters of peers, -and peeresses in plenty. The new Princess was led by -the Duke of York and Prince William; the Archbishop -married them; the King talked to her the whole time -with great good humour, and the Duke of Cumberland -gave her away. She is not tall, nor a beauty; pale, -and very thin; but looks sensible, and is genteel. Her -hair is darkish and fine; her forehead low, her nose -very well, except the nostrils spreading too wide; her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> -mouth has the same fault, but her teeth are good.<a name="FNanchor_32" id="FNanchor_32"></a><a href="#Footnote_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a> -She talks a good deal, and French tolerably; possesses -herself, is frank, but with great respect to the King. -After the ceremony, the whole company came into the -drawing-room for about ten minutes, but nobody was -presented that night. The Queen was in white and -silver; an endless mantle of violet-coloured velvet, -lined with ermine, and attempted to be fastened on -her shoulder by a bunch of large pearls, dragged -itself and almost the rest of her clothes halfway down -her waist. On her head was a beautiful little tiara of -diamonds; a diamond necklace, and a stomacher of -diamonds, worth three score thousand pounds, which -she is to wear at the Coronation too. Her train was -borne by the ten bridesmaids, Lady Sarah Lenox, Lady -Caroline Russell, Lady Caroline Montagu, Lady Harriot -Bentinck, Lady Anne Hamilton, Lady Essex Kerr -(daughters of Dukes of Richmond, Bedford, Manchester, -Portland, Hamilton, and Roxburgh); and four -daughters of the Earls of Albemarle, Brook, Harcourt, -and Ilchester,—Lady Elizabeth Keppel, Louisa Greville, -Elizabeth Harcourt, and Susan Fox Strangways: -their heads crowned with diamonds, and in robes of -white and silver. Lady Caroline Russell is extremely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> -handsome; Lady Elizabeth Keppel very pretty; but -with neither features nor air, nothing ever looked so -charming as Lady Sarah Lenox; she has all the glow -of beauty peculiar to her family. As supper was not -ready, the Queen sat down, sung, and played on the -harpsichord to the Royal Family, who all supped with -her in private. They talked of the different German -dialects; the King asked if the Hanoverian was not -pure—‘Oh, no, sir,’ said the Queen; ‘it is the worst of -all.’—She will not be unpopular.</p> - -<p>“The Duke of Cumberland told the King that himself -and Lady Augusta were sleepy. The Queen was very -averse to leave the company, and at last articled that -nobody should accompany her but the Princess of -Wales and her own two German women, and that -nobody should be admitted afterwards but the King—they -did not retire till between two and three.</p> - -<p>“The next morning the King had a Levee. After -the Levee there was a Drawing-Room; the Queen -stood under the throne: the women were presented -to her by the Duchess of Hamilton, and then the men -by the Duke of Manchester; but as she knew nobody, -she was not to speak. At night there was a ball, -drawing-rooms yesterday and to-day, and then a cessation -of ceremony till the Coronation, except next -Monday, when she is to receive the address of the -Lord Mayor and Aldermen, sitting on the throne -attended by the bridesmaids. A ridiculous circumstance -happened yesterday; Lord Westmoreland, not -very young nor clear-sighted, mistook Lady Sarah<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> -Lenox for the Queen, kneeled to her, and would have -kissed her hand if she had not prevented him. People -think that a Chancellor of Oxford was naturally attracted -by the blood of Stuart. It is as comical to see Kitty -Dashwood, the famous old beauty of the Oxfordshire -Jacobites, living in the palace as Duenna to the Queen. -She and Mrs. Broughton, Lord Lyttelton’s ancient -Delia, are revived again in a young court that never -heard of them. There, I think you could not have had -a more circumstantial account of a royal wedding from -the Heralds’ Office. Adieu!</p> - -<p class="center">“Yours to serve you,</p> - -<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Horace Sandford</span>,<br /> -“Mecklenburgh King-at-Arms.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>The Coronation of the King and Queen took place on -the 22nd of September, 1761, a fortnight after their -marriage. Walpole writes to Mann:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Strawberry Hill, Sept. 28, 1761.</p> - -<p>“What is the finest sight in the world? A Coronation. -What do people talk most about? A Coronation. -Indeed, one had need be a handsome young peeress not -to be fatigued to death with it. After being exhausted -with hearing of nothing else for six weeks, and having -every cranny of my ideas stuffed with velvet and ermine, -and tresses, and jewels, I thought I was very cunning in -going to lie in Palace-yard, that I might not sit up all -night in order to seize a place. The consequence of -this wise scheme was, that I did not get a wink of sleep -all night; hammering of scaffolds, shouting of people,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> -relieving guards, and jangling of bells, was the concert -I heard from twelve to six, when I rose; and it was -noon before the procession was ready to set forth, and -night before it returned from the Abbey. I then saw -the Hall, the dinner, and the champion, a gloriously -illuminated chamber, a wretched banquet, and a foolish -puppet-show. A Trial of a peer, though by no means -so sumptuous, is a preferable sight, for the latter is -interesting. At a Coronation one sees the peerage as -exalted as they like to be, and at a Trial as much -humbled as a plebeian wishes them. I tell you nothing -of who looked well; you know them no more than if I -told you of the next Coronation. Yes, two ancient -dames whom you remember, were still ornaments of the -show,—the Duchess of Queensberry and Lady Westmoreland. -Some of the peeresses were so fond of their -robes, that they graciously exhibited themselves for a -whole day before to all the company their servants -could invite to see them. A maid from Richmond -begged leave to stay in town because the Duchess of -Montrose was only to be seen from two to four. The -Heralds were so ignorant of their business, that, though -pensioned for nothing but to register lords and ladies, -and what belongs to them, they advertised in the newspaper -for the Christian names and places of abode of -the peeresses. The King complained of such omissions -and of the want of precedent; Lord Effingham, the -Earl Marshal, told him, it was true there had been -great neglect in that office, but he had now taken such -care of registering directions, that <em>next coronation</em> would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> -be conducted with the greatest order imaginable. The -King was so diverted with this <em>flattering</em> speech that he -made the earl repeat it several times.</p> - -<p>“On this occasion one saw to how high-water-mark -extravagance is risen in England. At the Coronation -of George II. my mother gave forty guineas for a dining-room, -scaffold, and bedchamber. An exactly parallel -apartment, only with rather a worse view, was this time -set at three hundred and fifty guineas—a tolerable rise -in thirty-three years! The platform from St. Margaret’s -Round-house to the church-door, which formerly let for -forty pounds, went this time for two thousand four -hundred pounds. Still more was given for the inside of -the Abbey. The prebends would like a Coronation -every year. The King paid nine thousand pounds for -the hire of jewels; indeed, last time, it cost my father -fourteen hundred to bejewel my Lady Orford. A single -shop now sold six hundred pounds’ sterling worth of -nails—but nails are risen—so is everything, and everything -adulterated. If we conquer Spain, as we have -done France, I expect to be poisoned.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>An observation as awkward as that of Lord Effingham -had been made by the beautiful Lady Coventry to -George II. “She was tired of sights,” she said; -“there was only one left that she wanted to see, and -that was a coronation.” The old man, says Walpole, -told the story himself at supper to his family with great -good humour. As it happened, he outlived Lady -Coventry by a few days.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</h2> - -<div class="summary"> - -<p>General Taste for Pleasure.—Entertainments at Twickenham and -Esher.—Miss Chudleigh’s Ball.—Masquerade at Richmond -House.—The Gallery at Strawberry Hill.—Balls.—The Duchess -of Queensberry.—Petition of the Periwig-makers.—Ladies’ Head-gear.—Almack’s.—The -Castle of Otranto.—Plans for a Bower.—A -Late Dinner.—Walpole’s Idle Life.—Social usages.</p> - -</div> - -<p>For some years after the arrival of the Queen, the -enlivening influence of a new reign is clearly traceable -in Walpole’s letters. The Court, indeed, did not -willingly contribute much to the national gaiety. Its -plainness and economy soon incurred reproach;<a name="FNanchor_33" id="FNanchor_33"></a><a href="#Footnote_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a> while -there were intervals in which the first uncertain signs -of mental derangement caused the young King to be -withdrawn from public observation. Still there were -christenings and birthdays, with now and then a -wedding, to be celebrated in the royal family; and the -State festivities, unavoidable on these occasions, were -eagerly emulated by the nobility. The Peace of Paris, -too, was not only welcomed with popular rejoicings,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> -but produced a general stir in society by the renewed -intercourse which it brought about between France and -England. “The two nations,” writes Horace, “are -crossing over and figuring-in.” A trifle restrained by -the example of the Court and the presence of foreign -visitors, the appetite for pleasure became universal -among the English higher classes. Lord Bute and the -Princess of Wales, Wilkes and the <cite>North Briton</cite>, the -debates on privilege and on general warrants, divided -the attention of Walpole’s world with the last entertainment -at the Duke of Richmond’s or Northumberland -House, with Miss Chudleigh’s last ball, with the riots -at Drury Lane Theatre, with the <i lang="fr">fêtes</i> in honour of -the marriage of the Princess Augusta and the Prince -of Brunswick, or, somewhat later, of the ill-starred -union between the Princess Caroline and the King of -Denmark. We hear no more of frolics at Vauxhall, -but we find galas, masquerades, ridottos, festinos, displays -of fireworks following each other in rapid succession -through our author’s pages; sometimes several -such scenes are described in the same letter. There is, -of course, much sameness in these descriptions, but -some passages serve to illustrate the tastes of the age. -We will make three or four brief extracts. Our first -choice is an account of two entertainments given to -French guests of rank, one by Horace himself at -Strawberry Hill, the other by Miss Pelham at the -country seat celebrated by Pope and Thomson. The -whole story is contained in a letter to George Montagu, -written in May, 1763:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p><div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“‘On vient de nous donner une très jolie fête au -château de Straberri: tout étoit tapissé de narcisses, de -tulipes, et de lilacs; des cors de chasse, des clarionettes; -des petits vers galants faits par des fées, et qui se trouvoient -sous la presse; des fruits à la glace, du thé, du -caffé, des biscuits, et force hot-rolls.’<a name="FNanchor_34" id="FNanchor_34"></a><a href="#Footnote_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a>—This is not the -beginning of a letter to you, but of one that I might -suppose sets out to-night for Paris, or rather, which I -do not suppose will set out thither; for though the -narrative is circumstantially true, I don’t believe the -actors were pleased enough with the scene, to give so -favourable an account of it.</p> - -<p>“The French do not come hither to see. <i lang="fr">A l’Anglaise</i> -happened to be the word in fashion; and half a dozen -of the most fashionable people have been the dupes of -it. I take for granted that their next mode will be -<i lang="fr">à l’Iroquaise</i>, that they may be under no obligation of -realising their pretensions. Madame de Boufflers -I think will die a martyr to a taste, which she fancied -she had, and finds she has not. Never having stirred -ten miles from Paris, and having only rolled in an easy -coach from one hotel to another on a gliding pavement, -she is already worn out with being hurried from morning -till night from one sight to another. She rises -every morning so fatigued with the toils of the preceding -day, that she has not strength, if she had inclination, to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> -observe the least, or the finest thing she sees! She -came hither to-day to a great breakfast I made for her, -with her eyes a foot deep in her head, her hands -dangling, and scarce able to support her knitting-bag. -She had been yesterday to see a ship launched, and -went from Greenwich by water to Ranelagh. Madame -Dusson, who is Dutch-built, and whose muscles are -pleasure-proof, came with her; there were besides, -Lady Mary Coke, Lord and Lady Holdernesse, the -Duke and Duchess of Grafton, Lord Hertford, Lord -Villiers, Offley, Messieurs de Fleury, D’Eon, et -Duclos. The latter is author of the Life of Louis -Onze; dresses like a dissenting minister, which I -suppose is the livery of a <i lang="fr">bel esprit</i>, and is much more -impetuous than agreeable. We breakfasted in the -great parlour, and I had filled the hall and large -cloister by turns with French horns and clarionettes. -As the French ladies had never seen a printing-house, -I carried them into mine; they found something ready -set, and desiring to see what it was, it proved as -follows:</p> - -<p class="center">“The Press speaks—</p> - -<p class="center">“<span class="smcap">For Madame De Boufflers.</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“‘The graceful fair, who loves to know,</div> -<div class="verse">Nor dreads the north’s inclement snow;</div> -<div class="verse">Who bids her polish’d accent wear</div> -<div class="verse">The British diction’s harsher air;</div> -<div class="verse">Shall read her praise in every clime</div> -<div class="verse">Where types can speak or poets rhyme.</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p> - -<p class="center">“<span class="smcap">For Madame Dusson.</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Feign not an ignorance of what I speak;</div> -<div class="verse">You could not miss my meaning were it Greek:</div> -<div class="verse">’Tis the same language Belgium utter’d first,</div> -<div class="verse">The same which from admiring Gallia burst.</div> -<div class="verse">True sentiment a like expression pours;</div> -<div class="verse">Each country says the same to eyes like yours.</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>“You will comprehend that the first speaks English, -and that the second does not; that the second is handsome, -and the first not; and that the second was born -in Holland. This little gentilesse pleased, and atoned -for the popery<a name="FNanchor_35" id="FNanchor_35"></a><a href="#Footnote_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a> of my house, which was not serious -enough for Madame de Boufflers, who is Montmorency, -<i lang="fr">et du sang du premier Chrétien</i>; and too serious for -Madame Dusson, who is a Dutch Calvinist.… The -Gallery is not advanced enough to give them any idea -at all, as they are not apt to go out of their way for one; -but the Cabinet, and the glory of yellow glass at top, -which had a charming sun for a foil, did surmount their -indifference, especially as they were animated by the -Duchess of Grafton, who had never happened to be -here before, and who perfectly entered into the air of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> -enchantment and fairyism, which is the tone of the -place, and was peculiarly so to-day.</p> - -<p class="right smaller">“Thursday.</p> - -<p>“I am ashamed of myself to have nothing but a -journal of pleasures to send you; I never passed a -more agreeable day than yesterday. Miss Pelham -gave the French an entertainment at Esher; but they -have been so feasted and amused, that none of them -were well enough, or reposed enough, to come, but -Nivernois and Madame Dusson. The rest of the company -were, the Graftons, Lady Rockingham, Lord and -Lady Pembroke.… The day was delightful, the scene -transporting; the trees, lawns, concaves, all in the perfection -in which the ghost of Kent<a name="FNanchor_36" id="FNanchor_36"></a><a href="#Footnote_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a> would joy to see -them. At twelve we made the tour of the farm in -eight chaises and calashes, horsemen, and footmen, -setting out like a picture of Wouverman’s. My lot -fell in the lap of Mrs. Anne Pitt,<a name="FNanchor_37" id="FNanchor_37"></a><a href="#Footnote_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a> which I could have -excused, as she was not at all in the style of the day, -romantic, but political. We had a magnificent dinner, -cloaked in the modesty of earthenware; French horns -and hautboys on the lawn. We walked to the Belvidere -on the summit of the hill, where a theatrical<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> -storm only served to heighten the beauty of the landscape, -a rainbow on a dark cloud falling precisely -behind the tower of a neighbouring church, between -another tower and the building at Claremont. Monsieur -de Nivernois, who had been absorbed all day, and -lagging behind, translating my verses, was delivered of -his version, and of some more lines which he wrote on -Miss Pelham in the Belvidere, while we drank tea and -coffee. From thence we passed into the wood, and -the ladies formed a circle on chairs before the mouth of -the cave, which was overhung to a vast height with -woodbines, lilacs, and laburnums, and dignified by the -tall shapely cypresses. On the descent of the hill were -placed the French horns; the abigails, servants, and -neighbours wandering below by the river; in short, it -was Parnassus, as Watteau would have painted it. -Here we had a rural syllabub, and part of the company -returned to town; but were replaced by Giardini and -Onofrio, who with Nivernois on the violin, and Lord -Pembroke on the base, accompanied Miss Pelham, -Lady Rockingham, and the Duchess of Grafton, who -sang. This little concert lasted till past ten; then -there were minuets, and as we had several couples left, -it concluded with a country dance. I blush again, for -I danced, but was kept in countenance by Nivernois, -who has one wrinkle more than I have. A quarter -after twelve they sat down to supper, and I came home -by a charming moonlight. I am going to dine in town, -and to a great ball with fireworks at Miss Chudleigh’s, -but I return hither on Sunday, to bid adieu to this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> -abominable Arcadian life; for really when one is not -young, one ought to do nothing but <i lang="fr">s’ennuyer</i>; I will -try, but I always go about it awkwardly.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Two days later this indefatigable chronicler of trifles -describes to Conway the <i lang="fr">fête</i> given by Miss Chudleigh, -afterwards known as the Duchess of Kingston, but at -that time a maid of honour to the Princess-Dowager of -Wales:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“Oh, that you had been at her ball t’other night! -History could never describe it and keep its countenance. -The Queen’s real birthday, you know, is not -kept: this Maid of Honour kept it—nay, while the -Court is in mourning, expected people to be out of -mourning; the Queen’s family really was so, Lady -Northumberland having desired leave for them. A -scaffold was erected in Hyde-park for fireworks. To -show the illuminations without to more advantage, the -company were received in an apartment totally dark, -where they remained for two hours.… The fireworks -were fine, and succeeded well. On each side of the -court were two large scaffolds for the Virgin’s<a name="FNanchor_38" id="FNanchor_38"></a><a href="#Footnote_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a> tradespeople. -When the fireworks ceased, a large scene was -lighted in the court, representing their Majesties; on -each side of which were six obelisks, painted with -emblems, and illuminated; mottoes beneath in Latin -and English.… The lady of the house made many -apologies for the poorness of the performance, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> -she said was only oil-paper, painted by one of her -servants; but it really was fine and pretty. Behind -the house was a cenotaph for the Princess Elizabeth, -a kind of illuminated cradle; the motto, <cite>All the honours -the dead can receive</cite>. This burying-ground was a strange -codicil to a festival; and, what was more strange, about -one in the morning, this sarcophagus burst out into -crackers and guns. The Margrave of Anspach began -the ball with the Virgin. The supper was most sumptuous.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>A fortnight afterwards he writes:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“June 7th.</p> - -<p>“Last night we had a magnificent entertainment at -Richmond House, a masquerade and fireworks. A -masquerade was a new sight to the young people, who -had dressed themselves charmingly, without having the -fear of an earthquake before their eyes, though Prince -William and Prince Henry<a name="FNanchor_39" id="FNanchor_39"></a><a href="#Footnote_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a> were not suffered to be -there. The Duchesses of Richmond and Grafton, the -first as a Persian Sultana, the latter as Cleopatra,—and -such a Cleopatra! were glorious figures, in very different -styles. Mrs. Fitzroy in a Turkish dress, Lady George -Lenox and Lady Bolingbroke as Grecian girls, Lady -Mary Coke as Imoinda, and Lady Pembroke as a pilgrim, -were the principal beauties of the night. The -whole garden was illuminated, and the apartments. -An encampment of barges decked with streamers in -the middle of the Thames, kept the people from danger,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> -and formed a stage for the fireworks, which were placed, -too, along the rails of the garden. The ground rooms -lighted, with suppers spread, the houses, covered and -filled with people, the bridge, the garden full of masks, -Whitehall crowded with spectators to see the dresses -pass, and the multitude of heads on the river who came -to light by the splendour of the fire-wheels, composed -the gayest and richest scene imaginable, not to mention -the diamonds and sumptuousness of the habits. -The Dukes of York and Cumberland, and the Margrave -of Anspach, were there, and about six hundred -masks.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>In the intervals of these engagements, he is busy at -Strawberry Hill. Thus, in arranging a short visit to -George Montagu, he says (July 1):</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“The journey you must accept as a great sacrifice -either to you or to my promise, for I quit the Gallery -almost in the critical minute of consummation. Gilders, -carvers, upholsterers, and picture-cleaners are labouring -at their several forges, and I do not love to trust a -hammer or a brush without my own supervisal. This -will make my stay very short, but it is a greater compliment -than a month would be at another season; and -yet I am not profuse of months. Well, but I begin to -be ashamed of my magnificence; Strawberry is growing -sumptuous in its latter day; it will scarce be any longer -like the fruit of its name, or the modesty of its ancient -demeanour, both which seem to have been in Spenser’s -prophetic eye, when he sung of</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse indent9">“‘—— the blushing strawberries</div> -<div class="verse">Which lurk, close-shrouded from high-looking eyes,</div> -<div class="verse">Showing that sweetness low and hidden lies.’</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>“In truth, my collection was too great already to be -lodged humbly; it has extended my walls, and pomp -followed. It was a neat, small house; it now will be a -comfortable one, and, except one fine apartment, does -not deviate from its simplicity. Adieu! I know nothing -about the world, and am only Strawberry’s and yours -sincerely.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Our next extract shows that, however fond of frequenting -large parties, the writer had little inclination -to give them, at any rate, in his toy-house:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“We had, last Monday, the prettiest ball that ever -was seen, at Mrs. Anne Pitt’s, in the compass of a -silver penny. There were one hundred and four persons, -of which number fifty-five supped. The supper-room -was disposed with tables and benches back to -back, in the manner of an ale-house. The idea sounds -ill; but the fairies had so improved upon it, had so -<em>be-garlanded</em>, so <em>sweetmeated</em>, and so <em>desserted</em> it, that it -looked like a vision. I told her she could only have fed -and stowed so much company by a miracle, and that, -when we were gone, she would take up twelve baskets-full -of people. The Duchess of Bedford asked me -before Madame de Guerchy, if I would not give them a -ball at Strawberry? Not for the universe! What! -turn a ball, and dust, and dirt, and a million of candles, -into my charming new gallery! I said, I could not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> -flatter myself that people would give themselves the -trouble of going eleven miles for a <em>ball</em>—(though I -believe they would go fifty).—‘Well, then,’ says she, -‘it shall be a <em>dinner</em>.’—‘With all my heart, I have no -objection; but no ball shall set its foot within my -doors.’”—<cite>Walpole to Lord Hertford, Feb. 24, 1764.</cite></p> - -</div> - -<p>The promised dinner was duly given. “Strawberry,” -we read soon afterwards, “has been more sumptuous -to-day than ordinary, and banquetted their representative -Majesties of France and Spain.… They really -seemed quite pleased with the place and the day; but -I must tell you, the treasury of the abbey will feel it, -for, without magnificence, all was handsomely done.” -Mrs. Anne Pitt, the giver of the ball, was present at the -banquet. In describing to a foreigner this lady’s strong -likeness to her famous brother, Walpole once said -happily, “Qu’ils se ressemblaient comme deux gouttes -de <em>feu</em>.” Another eccentric entertainer of the day was -the Duchess of Queensberry, “very clever, very whimsical, -and just not mad.” Of her we are told:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“Last Thursday, the Duchess of Queensberry gave a -ball, opened it herself with a minuet, and danced two -country dances: as she had enjoined everybody to be -with her by six, to sup at twelve, and go away directly.… -The only extraordinary thing the Duchess did, was -to do nothing extraordinary, for I do not call it very -mad that some pique happening between her and the -Duchess of Bedford, the latter had this distich sent to -her,</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“‘Come with a whistle, and come with a call,</div> -<div class="verse">Come with a good will, or come not at all.’</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>“I do not know whether what I am going to tell you -did not border a little upon Moorfields.<a name="FNanchor_40" id="FNanchor_40"></a><a href="#Footnote_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a> The gallery -where they danced was very cold. Lord Lorn, George -Selwyn, and I, retired into a little room, and sat comfortably -by the fire. The Duchess looked in, said -nothing, and sent a smith to take the hinges of the door -off. We understood the hint, and left the room, and so -did the smith the door. This was pretty legible.”—<cite>Walpole -to Lord Hertford, March 11, 1764.</cite></p> - -</div> - -<p>A little later on we have more gossip about the -humours of the day and of Lady Queensberry. Writing -to the same correspondent, under date of February 12, -1765, Horace says:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“If it was not too long to transcribe, I would send -you an entertaining petition<a name="FNanchor_41" id="FNanchor_41"></a><a href="#Footnote_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a> of the periwig-makers to -the King, in which they complain that men will wear -their own hair. Should one almost wonder if carpenters -were to remonstrate, that since the peace their trade<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> -decays, and that there is no demand for wooden legs? -Apropos, my Lady Hertford’s friend, Lady Harriot -Vernon, has quarrelled with me for smiling at the -enormous head-gear of her daughter, Lady Grosvenor. -She came one night to Northumberland-house with such -display of friz, that it literally spread beyond her shoulders. -I happened to say it looked as if her parents had -stinted her in hair before marriage, and that she was -determined to indulge her fancy now. This, among -ten thousand things said by all the world, was reported -to Lady Harriot, and has occasioned my disgrace. As -she never found fault with anybody herself, I excuse -her! You will be less surprised to hear that the -Duchess of Queensberry has not yet done dressing herself -marvellously: she was at Court on Sunday in a -gown and petticoat of red flannel. The same day the -Guerchys made a dinner for her, and invited Lord and -Lady Hyde, the Forbes’s, and her other particular -friends: in the morning she sent word she was to -go out of town, but as soon as dinner was over, -arrived at Madame de Guerchy’s, and said she had -been at Court.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>On February 14th, he adds in the same letter:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“The new Assembly Room at Almack’s was opened -the night before last, and they say is very magnificent, -but it was empty; half the town is ill with colds, and -many were afraid to go, as the house is scarcely built -yet. Almack advertised that it was built with hot -bricks and boiling water—think what a rage there must<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> -be for public places, if this notice, instead of terrifying, -could draw anybody thither. They tell me the ceilings -were dropping with wet—but can you believe me, when -I assure you the Duke of Cumberland was there?—Nay, -had had a levee in the morning, and went to the -Opera before the assembly! There is a vast flight of -steps, and he was forced to rest two or three times. If -he dies of it,—and how should he not?—it will sound -very silly when Hercules or Theseus ask him what he -died of, to reply, ‘I caught my death on a damp staircase -at a new club-room.’”</p> - -</div> - -<p>The reader will be inclined to wonder how, with so -many distractions, Walpole found time for all this -letter-writing, and still more how he managed to come -before the public as an author. His, however, was the -pen of an extremely ready writer, and, when not otherwise -engaged, he plied it with unwearied diligence. -This appears in the following letter to Cole, the Cambridge -antiquary, in which Horace gives an account of -the origin and composition of his well-known romance. -The letter shows also the writer’s love of collecting and -designing curiosities:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Strawberry Hill, March 9, 1765.</p> - -<p>“I had time to write but a short note with the ‘Castle -of Otranto,’ as your messenger called on me at four -o’clock, as I was going to dine abroad. Your partiality -to me and Strawberry have, I hope, inclined you to -excuse the wildness of the story. You will even have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> -found some traits to put you in mind of this place. -When you read of the picture quitting its panel, did not -you recollect the portrait of Lord Falkland, all in white, -in my Gallery? Shall I even confess to you, what was -the origin of this romance! I waked one morning, in -the beginning of last June, from a dream, of which, all -I could recover was, that I had thought myself in an -ancient castle (a very natural dream for a head filled -like mine with Gothic story), and that on the uppermost -bannister of a great staircase I saw a gigantic hand in -armour. In the evening I sat down, and began to write, -without knowing in the least what I intended to say or -relate. The work grew on my hands, and I grew fond -of it—add, that I was very glad to think of anything, -rather than politics. In short, I was so engrossed with -my tale, which I completed in less than two months, -that one evening, I wrote from the time I had drunk my -tea, about six o’clock, till half an hour after one in the -morning, when my hand and fingers were so weary, -that I could not hold the pen to finish the sentence, but -left Matilda and Isabella talking, in the middle of a -paragraph. You will laugh at my earnestness; but if -I have amused you, by retracing with any fidelity the -manners of ancient days, I am content, and give you -leave to think me as idle as you please.…</p> - -<p>“When you go into Cheshire, and upon your ramble, -may I trouble you with a commission? but about which -you must promise me not to go a step out of your way. -Mr. Bateman has got a cloister at Old Windsor, furnished -with ancient wooden chairs, most of them triangular,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> -but all of various patterns, and carved and turned -in the most uncouth and whimsical forms. He picked -them up one by one, for two, three, five, or six shillings -a-piece from different farm-houses in Herefordshire. I -have long envied and coveted them. There may be -such in poor cottages, in so neighbouring a county as -Cheshire. I should not grudge any expense for purchase -or carriage; and should be glad even of a couple -such for my cloister here. When you are copying -inscriptions in a churchyard in any village, think of -me, and step into the first cottage you see—but don’t -take further trouble than that.…</p> - -<p>“My bower is determined, but not at all what it is to -be. Though I write romances, I cannot tell how to -build all that belongs to them. Madame Danois, in the -Fairy Tales, used to <em>tapestry</em> them with <em>jonquils</em>; but as -that furniture will not last above a fortnight in the year, -I shall prefer something more huckaback. I have decided -that the outside shall be of <i lang="fr">treillage</i>, which, however, -I shall not commence, till I have again seen some -of old Louis’s old-fashioned <i lang="fr">Galanteries</i> at Versailles. -Rosamond’s bower, you, and I, and Tom Hearne know, -was a labyrinth: but as my territory will admit of a very -short clew, I lay aside all thoughts of a mazy habitation: -though a bower is very different from an arbour, -and must have more chambers than one. In short, I -both know, and don’t know, what it should be. I am -almost afraid I must go and read Spenser, and wade -through his allegories, and drawling stanzas, to get at a -picture. But, good night! you see how one gossips,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> -when one is alone, and at quiet on one’s own dunghill!—Well! -it may be trifling; yet it is such trifling as -Ambition never is happy enough to know! Ambition -orders palaces, but it is Content that chats for a page or -two over a bower.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>A large part of Walpole’s correspondence was despatched -at night after his return from the theatre or a -reception. His habits were late. He was a late riser, -and he often played cards till two or three o’clock in the -morning. Whist he disliked, but gave himself to faro, -while that game was in vogue, and afterwards to loo, with -all the fervour of a devotee. But when not thus occupied, -the hours observed by the fashionable world -allowed him to retire early to his desk. How different -those hours were then from what they now are, may be -gathered from Walpole’s amusing sketch of a retarded -dinner, at which he was a sufferer, in 1765:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“Now for my disaster; you will laugh at it, though -it was woful to me. I was to dine at Northumberland-house, -and went a little after hour: there I found the -Countess, Lady Betty Mackenzie, Lady Strafford; my -Lady Finlater, who was never out of Scotland before; -a tall lad of fifteen, her son; Lord Drogheda, and Mr. -Worseley. At five, arrived Mr. Mitchell, who said the -Lords had begun to read the Poor-bill, which would -take at least two hours, and perhaps would debate it -afterwards. We concluded dinner would be called for, -it not being very precedented for ladies to wait for -gentlemen:—no such thing. Six o’clock came,—seven<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> -o’clock came,—our coaches came,—well! we sent them -away, and excuses were we were engaged. Still the -Countess’s heart did not relent, nor uttered a syllable of -apology. We wore out the wind and the weather, the -Opera and the Play, Mrs. Cornelys’s and Almack’s, and -every topic that would do in a formal circle. We -hinted, represented—in vain. The clock struck eight: -my Lady, at last, said, she would go and order dinner; -but it was a good half-hour before it appeared. We -then sat down to a table for fourteen covers: but -instead of substantials, there was nothing but a profusion -of plates striped red, green, and yellow, gilt -plate, blacks and uniforms! My Lady Finlater, who -had never seen these embroidered dinners, nor dined -after three, was famished. The first course stayed -as long as possible, in hopes of the Lords: so did -the second. The dessert at last arrived, and the -middle dish was actually set on when Lord Finlater and -Mr. Mackay arrived!—would you believe it?—the -dessert was remanded, and the whole first course -brought back again!—Stay, I have not done:—just as -this second first course had done its duty, Lord -Northumberland, Lord Strafford, and Mackenzie came -in, and the whole began a third time! Then the second -course and the dessert! I thought we should have -dropped from our chairs with fatigue and fumes! -When the clock struck eleven, we were asked to return -to the drawing-room, and drink tea and coffee, but -I said I was engaged to supper, and came home to -bed.”</p> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p> - -<p>A few weeks later he laments his idle life in a letter -to Lady Hervey:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“It is scandalous, at my age, to have been carried -backwards and forwards to balls and suppers and parties -by very young people, as I was all last week. My resolutions -of growing old and staid are admirable: I wake -with a sober plan, and intend to pass the day with my -friends—then comes the Duke of Richmond, and hurries -me down to Whitehall to dinner—then the Duchess of -Grafton sends for me to loo in Upper Grosvenor Street—before -I can get thither, I am begged to step to -Kensington, to give Mrs. Anne Pitt my opinion about a -bow-window—after the loo, I am to march back to -Whitehall to supper—and after that, am to walk with -Miss Pelham on the terrace till two in the morning, -because it is moonlight and her chair is not come. All -this does not help my morning laziness; and, by the -time I have breakfasted, fed my birds and my squirrels, -and dressed, there is an auction ready. In short, -Madam, this was my life last week, and is I think every -week, with the addition of forty episodes.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Of course, this confession was not intended to be read -quite seriously. It is to be taken with two grains of -allowance, one for humour, the other for affectation. -It was the writer’s pleasure to overact the part of an -idle fine gentleman. But we may fairly conclude from -the last two extracts that five o’clock was the dinner-hour -of extreme fashion at this time. It would seem -that the customary hour was three even with people of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> -rank, and that in the greatest houses it was usual to -serve supper. When Horace could escape from the -loo-table in Upper Grosvenor Street, had no engagement -to supper, and was not forced to pace Whitehall -Terrace with a belated spinster till two in the morning, -he was able to be at home and in bed—or at work with -his books or his pen—by eleven o’clock.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</h2> - -<div class="summary"> - -<p>The Gout.—Visits to Paris.—Bath.—John Wesley.—Bad Weather.—English -Summers.—Quitting Parliament.—Madame du -Deffand.—Human Vanity.—The Banks of the Thames.—A -Subscription Masquerade.—Extravagance of the Age.—The Pantheon.—Visiting -Stowe with Princess Amelia.—George Montagu.—The -Countess of Ossory.—Powder-Mills Blown up at Hounslow.—Distractions -of Business and Pleasure.</p> - -</div> - -<p>Walpole’s acquaintance with the gout began before he -had reached his fortieth year. Its earliest approaches -he received without much discomposure. His chief -reason, he said, for objecting to “this alderman distemper” -was that he could show no title to it. “If -either my father or mother had had it, I should not -dislike it so much. I am herald enough to approve it if -descended genealogically; but it is an absolute upstart -in me, and what is more provoking, I had trusted to my -great abstinence for keeping me from it: but thus it is, -if I had any gentleman-like virtue, as patriotism or -loyalty, I might have got something by them; I had -nothing but that beggarly virtue temperance, and she -had not interest enough to keep me from a fit of the -gout.” By degrees, however, the attacks of his enemy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> -became too severe to be dismissed with pleasantries -like these. In the summer of 1765, he was prostrated -by a seizure which held him prisoner for several weeks. -On recovering about the middle of September, he -undertook a journey to Paris, partly to recruit his -strength, and partly in execution of a long-formed -design. He remained in the French capital till the -following spring, mixing much in the society of the -place, and doing ample justice to the wit and grace of -Frenchwomen, but shrinking from and detesting the -French philosophers.<a name="FNanchor_42" id="FNanchor_42"></a><a href="#Footnote_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a> During this period was formed -his friendship with Madame du Deffand, his “dear old -blind woman,” as he often calls her, with whom, after his -return to England, he maintained a weekly correspondence -for the rest of her life. Altogether, he derived so -much pleasure from his visit, that he repeated it every -alternate summer down to that of 1771; and we find -him in Paris again in 1775.</p> - -<p>He had another illness in the middle of 1766, for -which he tried the Bath waters; but Bath proved -not at all to his taste, though he met the great Lord -Chatham there, and many other persons of distinction. -“These watering-places,” he says, “that mimic -a capital, and add vulgarisms and familiarities of their -own, seem to me like abigails in cast gowns, and I am -not young enough to take up with either.” Finding<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> -himself dull at Bath, he attended a Wesleyan service, of -which he gives a somewhat flippant description:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“My health advances faster than my amusement. -However, I have been at one opera, Mr. Wesley’s. -They have boys and girls with charming voices, that -sing hymns, in parts, to Scotch ballad tunes; but indeed -so long, that one would think they were already -in eternity, and knew how much time they had before -them. The chapel is very neat, with true Gothic -windows (yet I am not converted); but I was glad to -see that luxury is creeping in upon them before persecution: -they have very neat mahogany stands for -branches, and brackets of the same in taste. At the -upper end is a broad <i lang="fr">hautpas</i> of four steps, advancing in -the middle: at each end of the broadest part are two of -<em>my</em> eagles,<a name="FNanchor_43" id="FNanchor_43"></a><a href="#Footnote_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a> with red cushions for the parson and clerk. -Behind them rise three more steps, in the midst of -which is a third eagle for pulpit. Scarlet armed chairs -to all three. On either hand, a balcony for elect ladies. -The rest of the congregation sit on forms. Behind the -pit, in a dark niche, is a plain table within rails; so -you see the throne is for the apostle. Wesley is a lean -elderly man, fresh-coloured, his hair smoothly combed, -but with a <i lang="fr">soupçon</i> of curl at the ends. Wondrous clean, -but as evidently an actor as Garrick. He spoke his -sermon, but so fast, and with so little accent, that I am -sure he has often uttered it, for it was like a lesson. -There were parts and eloquence in it; but towards the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> -end he exalted his voice, and acted very ugly enthusiasm; -decried learning, and told stories, like Latimer, -of the fool of his college, who said, ‘I <em>thanks</em> God for -everything.’ Except a few from curiosity, and <em>some -honourable women</em>, the congregation was very mean. -There was a Scotch Countess of Buchan, who is carrying -a pure rosy vulgar face to heaven, and who asked -Miss Rich, if that was <em>the author of the poets</em>. I believe -she meant me and the Noble Authors.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Walpole was in a peevish humour about this time. -He was out of health, and dispirited besides by an -apprehension that the climate of Twickenham did not -suit him. Thus he writes from Strawberry Hill: -“What afflicts me most is, that I am persuaded that -this place is too damp for me. I revive after being in -London an hour, like a member of Parliament’s wife. -It will be a cruel fate, after having laid out so much -money here, and building upon it as the nest of my old -age, if I am driven from it by bad health.” Unfavourable -weather seems to have been in some measure the -cause of these fears, and of the writer’s disordered condition. -Though the harvest-time of 1766 was fine, the -crops, we are told, had been spoilt by previous rains, -and the years which followed were a cycle of wet and -cold seasons. Walpole grumbles at the weather with -English vigour and French vivacity. Thus he writes to -Montagu, in June, 1768:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“I perceive the deluge fell upon you before it reached -us. It began here but on Monday last, and then rained -near eight-and-forty hours without intermission. My<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> -poor hay has not a dry thread to its back. I have had -a fire these three days. In short, every summer one -lives in a state of mutiny and murmur, and I have found -the reason: it is because we will affect to have a summer, -and we have no title to any such thing. Our poets -learnt their trade of the Romans, and so adopted the -terms of their masters. They talk of shady groves, -purling streams, and cooling breezes, and we get sore -throats and agues with attempting to realize these -visions. Master Damon writes a song, and invites -Miss Chloe to enjoy the cool of the evening, and never -a bit have we of any such thing as a cool evening. -Zephyr is a north-east wind, that makes Damon button -up to the chin, and pinches Chloe’s nose till it is red -and blue; and then they cry, <em>This is a bad summer!</em> -as if we ever had any other. The best sun we have is -made of Newcastle coal, and I am determined never to -reckon upon any other. We ruin ourselves with inviting -over foreign trees, and making our houses clamber up -hills to look at prospects. How our ancestors would -laugh at us, who knew there was no being comfortable, -unless you had a high hill before your nose, and a thick -warm wood at your back! Taste is too freezing a commodity -for us, and, depend upon it, will go out of fashion -again.—There is indeed a natural warmth in this -country, which, as you say, I am very glad not to enjoy -any longer; I mean the hot-house in St. Stephen’s chapel. -My own sagacity makes me very vain, though there was -very little merit in it. I had seen so much of all parties, -that I had little esteem left for any; it is most indifferent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> -to me who is in or who is out, or which is set in the -pillory, Mr. Wilkes or my Lord Mansfield. I see the -country going to ruin, and no man with brains enough -to save it. That is mortifying; but what signifies who -has the undoing it? I seldom suffer myself to think on -this subject: <em>my</em> patriotism could do no good, and my -philosophy can make me be at peace.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>The concluding lines of the above extract refer to the -writer’s recent retirement from the House of Commons. -In the spring of the preceding year, Walpole had announced -that he should not again ask the suffrages of -the Lynn burgesses, stating as his reasons the declining -state of his health and his wish to withdraw from all -public business; and though his health had improved in -the interval, the General Election of 1768 found him -fixed in his decision. Whatever may have been the -real motives of his conduct, there is no indication in his -Letters that he ever regretted the course he had taken. -In June, 1769, he writes from Strawberry Hill: “I am -come hither for two months, very busy with finishing -my round tower, which has stood still these five years, -and with an enchanting new cottage that I have built, -and other little works. In August, I shall go to Paris -for six weeks. In short, I am delighted with having -bid adieu to Parliament and politics, and with doing -nothing but what I like all the year round.” But the -season was again rainy. A few days later, we have a -letter to Cole, who was then settled at Waterbeach, -near Cambridge:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Strawberry Hill, Monday, June 26, 1769.</p> - -<p>“Oh! yes, yes, I shall like Thursday or Friday, 6th -or 7th, exceedingly; I shall like your staying with me -two days exceedinglier; and longer exceedingliest: and -I will carry you back to Cambridge on our pilgrimage to -Ely. But I should not at all like to be catched in the -glories of an installation,<a name="FNanchor_44" id="FNanchor_44"></a><a href="#Footnote_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a> and find myself a doctor, -before I knew where I was. It will be much more -agreeable to find the whole <i lang="fr">caput</i> asleep, digesting turtle, -dreaming of bishoprics, and humming old catches of -Anacreon, and scraps of Corelli. I wish Mr. Gray may -not be set out for the north; which is rather the case -than setting out for the summer. We have no summers, -I think, but what we raise, like pine-apples, by fire. -My hay is an absolute <em>water-souchy</em>, and teaches me how -to feel for you. You are quite in the right to sell your -fief in Marshland. I should be glad if you would take -one step more, and quit Marshland. We live, at least, -on terra firma in this part of the world, and can saunter -out without stilts. <i>Item</i>, we do not wade into pools, -and call it going upon the water, and get sore throats. -I trust yours is better; but I recollect this is not the -first you have complained of. Pray be not incorrigible, -but come to shore.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>At the end of August he is in Paris with Madame du -Deffand. “My dear old woman,” he writes, “is in -better health than when I left her, and her spirits so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> -increased, that I tell her she will go mad with age. -When they ask her how old she is, she answers, ‘J’ai -soixante et mille ans.’” In a letter written to George -Montagu a week afterwards, we have a description of -this true Frenchwoman:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“Your two letters flew here together in a breath. I -shall answer the article of business first. I could certainly -buy many things for you here, that you would -like, the reliques of the last age’s magnificence; but -since my Lady Holdernesse invaded the Custom-House -with an hundred and fourteen gowns, in the reign of -that two-penny monarch George Grenville, the ports -are so guarded, that not a soul but a smuggler can -smuggle anything into England; and I suppose you -would not care to pay seventy-five per cent. on second-hand -commodities. All I transported three years ago, -was conveyed under the canon of the Duke of Richmond. -I have no interest in our present representative; -nor if I had, is he returning. Plate, of all earthly -vanities, is the most impassable: it is not counterband -in its metallic capacity, but totally so in its personal; -and the officers of the Custom-House not being philosophers -enough to separate the substance from the superficies, -brutally hammer both to pieces, and return you—only -the intrinsic; a compensation which you, who are -no member of Parliament, would not, I trow, be satisfied -with. Thus I doubt you must retrench your -generosity to yourself, unless you can contract it into -an Elzevir size, and be content with anything one can -bring in one’s pocket.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p> - -<p>“My dear old friend was charmed with your mention -of her, and made me vow to return you a thousand -compliments. She cannot conceive why you will not -step hither. Feeling in herself no difference between -the spirits of twenty-three and seventy-three, she thinks -there is no impediment to doing whatever one will, but -the want of eyesight. If she had that, I am persuaded -no consideration would prevent her making me a visit -at Strawberry Hill. She makes songs, sings them, and -remembers all that ever were made; and, having lived -from the most agreeable to the most reasoning age, has -all that was amiable in the last, all that is sensible in -this, without the vanity of the former, or the pedant -impertinence of the latter. I have heard her dispute -with all sorts of people, on all sorts of subjects, and -never knew her in the wrong. She humbles the learned, -sets right their disciples, and finds conversation for -everybody. Affectionate as Madame de Sévigné, she -has none of her prejudices, but a more universal taste; -and, with the most delicate frame, her spirits hurry her -through a life of fatigue that would kill me, if I was to -continue here. If we return by one in the morning -from suppers in the country, she proposes driving to the -Boulevard or to the Foire St. Ovide, because it is too -early to go to bed. I had great difficulty last night to -persuade her, though she was not well, not to sit up till -between two and three for the comet; for which purpose -she had appointed an astronomer to bring his telescopes -to the president Henault’s, as she thought it would -amuse me. In short, her goodness to me is so excessive,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> -that I feel unashamed at producing my withered person -in a round of diversions, which I have quitted at home. -I tell a story; I do feel ashamed, and sigh to be in my -quiet castle and cottage; but it costs me many a pang, -when I reflect that I shall probably never have resolution -enough to take another journey to see this best and -sincerest of friends, who loves me as much as my mother -did! but it is idle to look forward—what is next year?—a -bubble that may burst for her or me, before even -the flying year can hurry to the end of its almanack!…</p> - -<p>“Adieu, my t’other dear old friend! I am sorry to -say, I see you almost as seldom as I do Madame du -Deffand. However, it is comfortable to reflect that we -have not changed to each other for some five-and-thirty -years, and neither you nor I haggle about naming so -ancient a term. I made a visit yesterday to the Abbess -of Panthemont, General Oglethorpe’s niece, and no -chicken. I inquired after her mother, Madame de -Mezieres, and thought I might to a spiritual votary to -immortality venture to say, that her mother must be -very old; she interrupted me tartly, and said, no, her -mother had been married extremely young. Do but -think of its seeming important to a saint to sink a -wrinkle of her own through an iron grate! Oh! we are -ridiculous animals; and if angels have any fun in them; -how we must divert them.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Once more in England, he announces his return to -the same friend:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Strawberry Hill, Oct. 16, 1769.</p> - -<p>“I arrived at my own Louvre last Wednesday night, -and am now at my Versailles. Your last letter reached -me but two days before I left Paris, for I have been an -age at Calais and upon the sea. I could execute no -commission for you, and, in truth, you gave me no -explicit one; but I have brought you a bit of china, and -beg you will be content with a little present, instead of -a bargain. Said china is, or will be soon, in the -Custom-House; but I shall have it, I fear, long before -you come to London.…</p> - -<p>“I feel myself here like a swan, that, after living six -weeks in a nasty pool upon a common, is got back into -its own Thames. I do nothing but plume and clean -myself, and enjoy the verdure and silent waves. Neatness -and greenth are so essential in my opinion to the -country, that in France, where I see nothing but chalk -and dirty peasants, I seem in a terrestrial purgatory -that is neither town nor country. The face of England -is so beautiful, that I do not believe Tempe or Arcadia -were half so rural; for both lying in hot climates, must -have wanted the turf of our lawns. It is unfortunate to -have so pastoral a taste, when I want a cane more than -a crook. We are absurd creatures; at twenty, I loved -nothing but London.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>The winter of 1769-70 Walpole spent as usual in -London. He now moralizes on masquerades in the -tone of an ancient:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></p><div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“It is very lucky, seeing how much of the tiger enters -into the human composition, that there should be a -good dose of the monkey too. If Æsop had not lived -so many centuries before the introduction of masquerades -and operas, he would certainly have anticipated -my observation, and worked it up into a capital -fable. As we still trade upon the stock of the ancients, -we seldom deal in any other manufacture; and, though -nature, after new combinations, lets forth new characteristics, -it is very rarely that they are added to the old -fund; else how could so striking a remark have escaped -being made, as mine, on the joint ingredients of tiger -and monkey? In France the latter predominates, in -England the former; but, like Orozmades and Arimanius, -they get the better by turns. The bankruptcy -in France, and the rigours of the new Comptroller-General, -are half forgotten, in the expectation of a -new opera at the new theatre. Our civil war<a name="FNanchor_45" id="FNanchor_45"></a><a href="#Footnote_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a> has been -lulled to sleep by a Subscription Masquerade, for which -the House of Commons literally adjourned yesterday. -Instead of Fairfaxes and Cromwells, we have had a -crowd of Henry the Eighths, Wolseys, Vandykes, and -Harlequins; and because Wilkes was not mask enough, -we had a man dressed like him, with a visor, in imitation -of his squint, and a Cap of Liberty on a pole. In -short, sixteen or eighteen young lords have given the -town a Masquerade; and politics, for the last fortnight, -were forced to give way to habit-makers. The ball was -last night at Soho; and, if possible, was more magnificent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> -than the King of Denmark’s. The Bishops -opposed: he of London formally remonstrated to the -King, who did not approve it, but could not help him. -The consequence was, that four divine vessels belonging -to the holy fathers, alias their wives, were at this Masquerade. -Monkey again! A fair widow,<a name="FNanchor_46" id="FNanchor_46"></a><a href="#Footnote_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a> who once -bore my whole name, and now bears half of it, was -there, with one of those whom the newspapers call -<cite>great personages</cite>—he dressed like Edward the Fourth, she -like Elizabeth Woodville, in grey and pearls, with a black -veil. Methinks it was not very difficult to find out the -meaning of those masks.</p> - -<p>“As one of my ancient passions, formerly, was Masquerades, -I had a large trunk of dresses by me. I -dressed out a thousand young Conways<a name="FNanchor_47" id="FNanchor_47"></a><a href="#Footnote_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a> and Cholmondeleys,<a name="FNanchor_48" id="FNanchor_48"></a><a href="#Footnote_48" class="fnanchor">[48]</a> -and went with more pleasure to see them -pleased than when I formerly delighted in that diversion -myself. It has cost me a great headache, and I -shall probably never go to another. A symptom appeared -of the change that has happened in the people.</p> - -<p>“The mob was beyond all belief: they held flambeaux -to the windows of every coach, and demanded to have -the masks pulled off and put on at their pleasure, but -with extreme good-humour and civility. I was with -my Lady Hertford and two of her daughters, in their -coach: the mob took me for Lord Hertford, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> -huzzaed and blessed me! One fellow cried out, ‘Are -you for Wilkes?’ another said, ‘You fool, what has -Wilkes to do with a Masquerade?’</p> - -<p>“In good truth, that stock is fallen very low. The -Court has recovered a majority of seventy-five in the -House of Commons; and the party has succeeded so ill -in the Lords, that my Lord Chatham has betaken himself -to the gout, and appears no more. What Wilkes -may do at his enlargement in April, I don’t know, but -his star is certainly much dimmed. The distress of -France, the injustice they have been induced to commit -on public credit, immense bankruptcies, and great -bankers hanging and drowning themselves, are comfortable -objects in our prospect; for one tiger is charmed if -another tiger loses his tail.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Again, he descants on the extravagance of the -age:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“What do you think of a winter-Ranelagh<a name="FNanchor_49" id="FNanchor_49"></a><a href="#Footnote_49" class="fnanchor">[49]</a> erecting -in Oxford Road, at the expense of sixty thousand -pounds? The new Bank, including the value of the -ground, and of the houses demolished to make room for -it, will cost three hundred thousand; and erected, as -my Lady Townley<a name="FNanchor_50" id="FNanchor_50"></a><a href="#Footnote_50" class="fnanchor">[50]</a> says, <em>by sober citizens too</em>! I have -touched before to you on the incredible profusion of our -young men of fashion. I know a younger brother who -literally gives a flower-woman half a guinea every morning -for a bunch of roses for the nosegay in his button-hole. -There has lately been an auction of stuffed birds; and,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> -as natural history is in fashion, there are physicians and -others who paid forty and fifty guineas for a single -Chinese pheasant: you may buy a live one for five. -After this, it is not extraordinary that pictures should -be dear. We have at present three exhibitions. One -West,<a name="FNanchor_51" id="FNanchor_51"></a><a href="#Footnote_51" class="fnanchor">[51]</a> who paints history in the taste of Poussin, gets -three hundred pounds for a piece not too large to hang -over a chimney. He has merit, but is hard and heavy, -and far unworthy of such prices. The rage to see these -exhibitions is so great, that sometimes one cannot pass -through the streets where they are. But it is incredible -what sums are raised by mere exhibitions of anything—a -new fashion; and to enter at which you pay a shilling -or half-a-crown. Another rage is for prints of English -portraits: I have been collecting them above thirty -years, and originally never gave for a mezzotinto above -one or two shillings. The lowest are now a crown; -most, from half a guinea to a guinea. Lately, I assisted -a clergyman [Granger] in compiling a catalogue of -them; since the publication, scarce heads in books, not -worth threepence, will sell for five guineas. Then we -have Etruscan vases, made of earthenware, in Staffordshire -[by Wedgwood] from two to five guineas; and -<i lang="it">or moulu</i>, never made here before, which succeeds so -well, that a teakettle, which the inventor offered for one -hundred guineas, sold by auction for one hundred and -thirty. In short, we are at the height of extravagance -and improvements, for we do improve rapidly in taste as -well as in the former. I cannot say so much for our<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> -genius. Poetry is gone to bed, or into our prose; we -are like the Romans in that too. If we have the arts of -the Antonines,—we have the fustian also.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Our ancestors seem to have been much impressed -with the splendour of the London Pantheon. Walpole -recurs to the subject: “If we laugh at the French, they -stare at us. Our enormous luxury and expense astonish -them. I carried their Ambassador and a Comte de -Levi the other morning to see the new winter-Ranelagh -[the Pantheon] in Oxford Road, which is almost -finished. It amazed me myself. Imagine Balbec in -all its glory! The pillars are of artificial <i lang="it">giallo antico</i>. -The ceilings, even of the passages, are of the most -beautiful stuccos in the best taste of grotesque. The -ceilings of the ball-rooms, and the panels, painted like -Raphael’s <i lang="it">loggias</i> in the Vatican. A dome like the -Pantheon, glazed. Monsieur de Guisnes said to me, -‘Ce n’est qu’à Londres qu’on peut faire tout cela.’” -What a sermon would our moralist have preached, could -he have foreseen that, in the reign of George III’s grand-daughter, -this English Balbec would become a repository -for cheap wines!</p> - -<p>In July, 1770, Walpole received a command to attend -the Princess Amelia on a visit to Stowe. He describes -what occurred to George Montagu:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“The party passed off much better than I expected. -A Princess at the head of a very small set for five days -together did not promise well. However, she was very -good-humoured and easy, and dispensed with a large<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> -quantity of etiquette. Lady Temple is good-nature -itself, my Lord was very civil, Lord Besborough is made -to suit all sorts of people, Lady Mary Coke respects -royalty too much not to be very condescending, Lady -Anne Howard<a name="FNanchor_52" id="FNanchor_52"></a><a href="#Footnote_52" class="fnanchor">[52]</a> and Mrs. Middleton filled up the drawing-room, -or rather made it out, and I was so determined -to carry it off as well as I could, and happened -to be in such good spirits, and took such care to avoid -politics, that we laughed a great deal, and had not a -cloud the whole time.</p> - -<p>“We breakfasted at half an hour after nine; but the -Princess did not appear till it was finished; then we -walked in the garden, or drove about it in cabriolets, till -it was time to dress; dined at three, which, though -properly proportioned to the smallness of company to -avoid ostentation, lasted a vast while, as the Princess -eats and talks a great deal; then again into the garden -till past seven, when we came in, drank tea and coffee, -and played at pharaoh till ten, when the Princess -retired, and we went to supper, and before twelve to -bed. You see there was great sameness and little -vivacity in all this. It was a little broken by fishing, -and going round the park one of the mornings; but, in -reality, the number of buildings and variety of scenes in -the garden, made each day different from the rest, and -my meditations on so historic a spot prevented my -being tired. Every acre brings to one’s mind some -instance of the parts or pedantry, of the taste or want<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> -of taste, of the ambition or love of fame, or greatness or -miscarriages, of those that have inhabited, decorated, -planned, or visited the place. Pope, Congreve, Vanbrugh, -Kent, Gibbs, Lord Cobham, Lord Chesterfield, -the mob of nephews, the Lytteltons, Grenvilles, Wests, -Leonidas Glover, and Wilkes, the late Prince of Wales, -the King of Denmark, Princess Amelia, and the proud -monuments of Lord Chatham’s services, now enshrined -there, then anathematised there, and now again commanding -there, with the Temple of Friendship,<a name="FNanchor_53" id="FNanchor_53"></a><a href="#Footnote_53" class="fnanchor">[53]</a> like -the Temple of Janus, sometimes open to war, and -sometimes shut up in factious cabals—all these images -crowd upon one’s memory, and add visionary personages -to the charming scenes, that are so enriched with fanes -and temples, that the real prospects are little less than -visions themselves.</p> - -<p>“On Wednesday night, a small Vauxhall was acted -for us at the grotto in the Elysian fields, which was -illuminated with lamps, as were the thicket and two -little barks on the lake. With a little exaggeration, I -could make you believe that nothing ever was so delightful. -The idea was really pretty; but, as my feelings -have lost something of their romantic sensibility, -I did not quite enjoy such an entertainment <i lang="it">al fresco</i> so -much as I should have done twenty years ago. The -evening was more than cool, and the destined spot anything -but dry. There were not half lamps enough, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> -no music but an ancient militia-man, who played cruelly -on a squeaking tabor and pipe. As our procession -descended the vast flight of steps into the garden, in -which was assembled a crowd of people from Buckingham -and the neighbouring villages to see the Princess -and the show, the moon shining very bright, I could not -help laughing as I surveyed our troop, which, instead of -tripping lightly to such an Arcadian entertainment, were -hobbling down by the balustrades, wrapped up in cloaks -and great-coats, for fear of catching cold. The Earl, -you know, is bent double, the Countess very lame; I -am a miserable walker, and the Princess, though as -strong as a Brunswick lion, makes no figure in going -down fifty stone stairs. Except Lady Anne, and by -courtesy Lady Mary, we were none of us young enough -for a pastoral. We supped in the grotto, which is as -proper to this climate as a sea-coal fire would be in the -dog-days at Tivoli.</p> - -<p>“But the chief entertainment of the week, at least -what was so to the Princess, is an arch, which Lord -Temple has erected to her honour in the most enchanting -of all picturesque scenes. It is inscribed on one -side, ‘<span class="smcap">Ameliæ Sophiæ, Aug.</span>,’ and has a medallion of -her on the other. It is placed on an eminence at the -top of the Elysian fields, in a grove of orange-trees. -You come to it on a sudden, and are startled with -delight on looking through it: you at once see, through -a glade, the river winding at the bottom; from which a -thicket rises, arched over with trees, but opened, and -discovering a hillock full of hay-cocks, beyond which in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> -front is the Palladian bridge, and again over that a -larger hill crowned with the castle. It is a tall landscape -framed by the arch and the overbowering trees, -and comprehending more beauties of light, shade, -and buildings, than any picture of Albano I ever saw.</p> - -<p>“Between the flattery and the prospect, the Princess -was really in Elysium: she visited her arch four and -five times every day, and could not satiate herself with -it. The statues of Apollo and the Muses stand on each -side of the arch. One day she found in Apollo’s hand -the following lines, which I had written for her, and -communicated to Lord Temple.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>We spare our readers the verses. The letter from -which we have been quoting is one of the last of Walpole’s -letters to Montagu. A coolness arose the same -year between the two friends, either without a cause, or -for some cause which has not been explained, and continued -until Montagu’s death in 1780.<a name="FNanchor_54" id="FNanchor_54"></a><a href="#Footnote_54" class="fnanchor">[54]</a> That Walpole -regretted the breach his tone in referring to it shows, -and his readers have reason to regret it likewise, for his -letters to Montagu display more warmth of feeling and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> -simplicity of style than any others in his published -correspondence. A few months before Montagu drops -out of sight, Lady Ossory appears in the list of the ladies -to whom Walpole addressed sprightly letters in a strain -of oddly mingled ceremony and familiarity. He had -been on terms of friendship with her before her divorce -from the Duke of Grafton; in his letters of that period -he frequently refers to her as his Duchess, and speaks -of following her and loo all over the kingdom. There -can be no doubt that he often wrote to her at that time, -but the first of his published letters to her is dated after -her marriage with Lord Ossory. Here are two letters -to her, one describing the damage done to his castle by -an explosion of powder-mills at Hounslow, the other -the sea of troubles into which he was plunged when his -nephew, Lord Orford, was seized with insanity. The first -letter was begun in London on the 5th January, 1772:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“I was waked very early this morning, by half an -hour after nine; (I mean this for flattery, for Mr. Crauford -says your ladyship does not rise till one); by the -way, I was in the middle of a charming dream. I -thought I was in the King’s Library in Paris, and in a -gallery full of books of prints, containing nothing but -<i lang="fr">fêtes</i> decorations of scenery. I took down a long -Roll, on which was painted, on vellum, all the ceremonies -of the present reign: there was the young King -walking to his coronation; the Regent before, who I -thought was alive. I said to him, your Royal Highness -has a great air; he seemed extremely flattered, when -the house shook as if the devil were come for him. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> -had scarce recovered my vexation at being so disturbed, -when the door of my room shook so violently that I -thought somebody was breaking it open, though I knew -it was not locked. It was broad daylight, but I did not -know that housebreaking might not be still improving. I -cried out ‘Who is there?’ Nobody answered. In less -than another minute, the door rattled and shook still -more robberaceously. I call again—no reply. I rung: -the housemaid ran in as pale as white ashes, if you ever -saw such, and cried, ‘Goodness! Sir, I am frightened -out of my wits: there has been an earthquake!’ Oh! I -believed her immediately. Philip [his valet] came in, -and, being a Swiss philosopher, insisted it was only the -wind. I sent him down to collect opinions in the -street. He returned, and owned every body in this and -the neighbouring streets were persuaded their houses -had been breaking open; or had ran out of them, thinking -there was an earthquake. Alas! it was much -worse; for you know, Madam, our earthquakes are as -harmless as a new-born child. At one, came in a courier -from Margaret [his housekeeper] to tell me that five -powder-mills had been blown up at Hounslow, at half -an hour after nine this morning, had almost shook Mrs. -Clive, and had broken parts or all of eight of my painted -windows, besides other damage. This is a cruel misfortune: -I don’t know how I shall repair it! I shall go down -to-morrow, and on Thursday will finish my report.</p> - -<p class="right smaller">“Wednesday, 8th.</p> - -<p>“Well! Madam, I am returned from my poor -shattered castle, and never did it look so Gothic in its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> -born days. You would swear it had been besieged by -the Presbyterians in the Civil Wars, and that, finding -it impregnable, they had vented their holy malice on -the painted glass. As this gunpowder-army passed on, -it demolished Mr. Hindley’s fine bow-window of ancient -Scripture histories; and only because your ladyship is -my ally, broke the large window over your door, and -wrenched off a lock in your kitchen. Margaret sits by -the waters of Babylon, and weeps over Jerusalem. I -shall pity those she shows the house to next summer, -for her story is as long and deplorable as a chapter of -casualties in ‘Baker’s Chronicle;’ yet she was not -taken quite unprepared, for one of the Bantam hens -crowed on Sunday morning, and the chandler’s wife -told her three weeks ago, when the barn was blown -down, that ill-luck never comes single. She is, however, -very thankful that the China Room has escaped, -and says, Heaven has always been the best creature in -the world to her. I dare not tell her how many -churches I propose to rob, to repair my losses.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>The second is dated:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Strawberry Hill, past midnight, June 11, 1773.</p> - -<p>“Unless I borrow from my sleep, I can certainly -have no time to please myself. I am this minute -arrived here, Madam, and being the flower of chivalry, -I sacrifice, like a true knight, the moments I steal from -my rest to gallantry. Save me, or I shall become a -solicitor in Chancery, unless business and fatigue overset -my head, and reduce me to my poor nephew’s state. -Indeed, I am half hurried out of my senses. Think of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> -me putting queries to lawyers, up to the ears in mortgages, -wills, settlements, and contingent remainders. -My lawyer is sent away that I may give audience to the -Honourable Mr. Manners, the genuine, if not the -legitimate son of Lord William. He came civilly -yesterday morning to ask me if he might not seize -the pictures at Houghton, which he heard were worth -threescore thousand pounds, for nine thousand he has -lent Lord Orford. The vulture’s throat gaped for them -all—what a scene is opened! Houghton will be a -rookery of harpies—I doubt there are worse scenes to -follow, and black transactions! What occupation -chalked out for an end of a life that I had calculated -for tranquillity, and which gout and law are to divide -between them!</p> - -<p>“In the midst of this prospect must I keep up the -tone of the world, go shepherdising with Macaronies, -sit up at loo with my Lady Hertford, be witness to -Miss Pelham’s orgies, dine at villas, and give dinners at -my own. ’Tis well my spirits and resolution have survived -my youth: you have heard how my mornings -pass—now for the rest. Consultations of physicians, -letters to Lady Orford, sent for to my brother, decent -visits to <em>my</em> Court,<a name="FNanchor_55" id="FNanchor_55"></a><a href="#Footnote_55" class="fnanchor">[55]</a> sup at Lady Powis’s on Wednesday, -drink tea with all the fashionable world at Mr. Fitzroy’s -farm on Thursday, blown by a north wind there into -the house, and whisk back to Lady Hertford’s; this -morning to my brother’s to hear of new bills, away to -dine at ——, Muswell Hill, with the Beauclerks, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> -florists and natural historians, Banks and Solanders; -return to town, step to ask a friend whether reversions -of jointures can be left away, into my chaise and hither. -To-morrow come two Frenchmen to dinner—on Monday, -a man to sell me two acres immensely dear as a -favour,—Philip [his valet], I cannot help it, you must -go and put him off; I have not a minute, I must go -back to-morrow night to meet the lawyers at my -brother’s on Sunday morning. Margaret [his housekeeper] -comes in. ‘Sir, Lady Bingham desires you -will dine with her at Hampton Court on Tuesday;’ I -cannot. ‘Sir, Captain What-d’ye-call’m has sent twice -for a ticket to see the house’—Don’t plague me about -tickets. ‘Sir, a servant from Isleworth brought this -parcel.’ What on earth is in it?—only printed proposals -for writing the lives of all British writers, and a -letter to tell me I could do it better than anybody, but -as I may not have time, Dr. Berkenhout proposes to do -it, and will write mine into the bargain, if I will but -be so good as to write it first and send it him, and -give him advice for the conduct of his work, and point -out materials, and furnish him with anecdotes.</p> - -<p>“My dear madam, what if you should send him this -letter as a specimen of my life! Alas, alas! I have -already lost my lilac tide. I have heard but one nightingale -this year, and my farmer cut my hay last Tuesday -morning without telling me, just as I was going to -London. Is it to be borne? O for the <i lang="fr">sang-froid</i> of an -Almackian, who pursues his delights,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“‘Though in the jaws of ruin and codille!’”</div> -</div> -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</h2> - -<div class="summary"> - -<p>Lord Nuneham.—Madame de Sévigné.—Charles Fox.—Mrs. Clive -and Cliveden.—Goldsmith and Garrick.—Dearth of News.—Madame -de Trop.—A Bunch of Grapes.—General Election.—Perils -by Land and Water.—Sir Horace Mann.—Lord Clive.—The -History of Manners.—A Traveller from Lima.—The Sçavoir -Vivre Club.—Reflections on Life.—The Pretender’s Happiness.—Paris -Fashions.—Madame Du Deffand ill.—Growth of London.—Sir -Joshua Reynolds.—Change in Manners.—Our Climate.</p> - -</div> - -<p>The following letter is a specimen of Horace’s gossiping -style at its best. It is addressed to Lord Nuneham, -who was in Ireland with his father, Simon Earl Harcourt, -the then Lord-Lieutenant. Elsewhere Walpole -salutes his correspondent as “Your O’Royal Highness”:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Strawberry Hill, Dec. 6, 1773.</p> - -<p>“I wanted an excuse for writing to you, my dear -Lord, and your letter gives me an opportunity of thanking -you; yet that is not all I wanted to say. I would, -if I had dared, have addressed myself to Lady Nuneham, -but I had not confidence enough, especially on so -unworthy a subject as myself. Lady Temple, my -friend, as well as that of Human Nature, has shown me -some verses; but alas! how came such charming<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> -poetry to be thrown away on so unmeritorious a topic? -I don’t know whether I ought to praise the lines most, -or censure the object most. Voltaire makes the excellence -of French poetry consist in the number of difficulties -it vanquishes. Pope, who celebrated Lord -Bolingbroke, could not have succeeded, did not succeed, -better; and yet I hope that, though a meaner -subject, I am not so bad an one! Well! with all my -humility, I cannot but be greatly flattered. Madame -de Sévigné spread her leaf-gold over all her acquaintance, -and made them shine; I should not doubt of the -same glory, when Lady Nuneham’s poetry shall come -to light, if my own works were but burnt at the same -time; but alas! Coulanges’ verses were preserved, and -so may my writings too. Apropos, my Lord, I have -got a new volume of that divine woman’s letters. Two -are entertaining; the rest, not very divine. But there -is an application, the happiest, the most exquisite, that -even she herself ever made! She is joking with a -President de Provence, who was hurt at becoming a -grandfather. She assures him there is no such great -misfortune in it; ‘I have experienced the case,’ says -she, ‘and, believe me, <i lang="la">Pæte, non dolet</i>.’ If you are not -both transported with <em>this</em>, ye are not the Lord and -Lady Nuneham I take ye to be. There are besides -some twenty letters of Madame de Simiane, who shows -she would not have degenerated totally, if she had not -lived in the country, or had anything to say. At the -end are reprinted Madame de Sévigné’s letters on -Fouquet’s Trial, which are very interesting.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I do not know how you like your new subjects, but -I hear they are extremely content with their Prince and -Princess. I ought to wish your Lordship joy of all -your prosperities, and of Mr. Fludd’s baptism into the -Catholic or Universal Faith; but I reserve public -felicities for your old <em>Drawing-Room</em> in Leicester Fields. -Private news we have little but Lord Carmarthen’s and -Lord Cranborne’s marriages, and the approaching one -of Lady Bridget Lane and Mr. Tall-Match. Lord -Holland has given Charles Fox a draught of an hundred -thousand pounds, and it pays all his debts, but a trifle -of thirty thousand pounds, and those of Lord Carlisle, -Crewe, and Foley, who being only friends, not Jews, -may wait. So now any younger son may justify losing -his father’s and elder brother’s estate on precedent.<a name="FNanchor_56" id="FNanchor_56"></a><a href="#Footnote_56" class="fnanchor">[56]</a></p> - -<p>“Neither Lord nor Lady Temple are well, and yet -they are both gone to Lord Clare’s, in Essex, for a -week. Lord Temple had a very bad fall in the Park, -and lost his senses for an hour. Yet, though the horse -is a vicious one, he has been upon it again. In short, -there are no right-headed people but the Irish!</p> - -<p>“As it is ancient good breeding not to conclude a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> -letter without troubling the reader with compliments, -and as I have none to send, I must beg your Lordship -not to forget to present my respects to the Countesses -of Barrymore and Massareene, my dear Sisters in Loo. -You may be sure I am charged with a large parcel from -Cliveden,<a name="FNanchor_57" id="FNanchor_57"></a><a href="#Footnote_57" class="fnanchor">[57]</a> where I was last night. Except being -extremely ill, Mrs. Clive is extremely well; but the -tax-gatherer is gone off, and she must pay her window-lights -over again; and the road before her door is very -bad, and the parish won’t mend it, and there is some -suspicion that Garrick is at the bottom of it; so if you -please to send a shipload of the Giant’s Causey by next -Monday, we shall be able to go to Mr. Rofey’s rout at -Kingston. The Papers said she was to act at Covent -Garden, and she has printed a very proper answer in -the <cite>Evening Post</cite>. Mr. Raftor<a name="FNanchor_58" id="FNanchor_58"></a><a href="#Footnote_58" class="fnanchor">[58]</a> told me, that formerly, -when he played Luna in ‘The Rehearsal,’ he never -could learn to dance the Hays, and at last he went to -the Man that teaches grown gentlemen.</p> - -<p>“Miss Davis<a name="FNanchor_59" id="FNanchor_59"></a><a href="#Footnote_59" class="fnanchor">[59]</a> is the admiration of all London, but of -me, who do not love the perfection of what anybody -can do, and wish she had less top to her voice and -more bottom. However, she will break Millico’s heart, -which will not break mine. Fierville has sprained his -leg, and there is another man who sprains his mouth -with smiling on himself—as I have heard, for I have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> -not seen him yet, nor a fat old woman and her lean -daughter, who dance with him. London is very dull, -so pray come back as soon as you can. Mason is up to -the ears in ‘Gray’s Life;’ you will like it exceedingly, -which is more than you will do this long letter. Well! -you have but to go into Lady Nuneham’s dressing-room, -and you may read something ten thousand -times more pleasing. No, no! you are not the most -to be pitied of any human being, though in the midst -of Dublin Castle.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Next to the above, Walpole’s liveliest letters about -this date were written to Lady Ossory. Sometimes he -has to lament the want of news: “Pray, Madam, -where is the difference between London and the -country, when everybody is in the country and nobody -in town? The houses do not marry, intrigue, talk -politics, game, or fling themselves out of window. The -streets do not all run to the Alley, nor the squares -mortgage themselves over head and ears. The play-houses -do not pull themselves down; and all summer -long, when nobody gets about them, they behave -soberly and decently as any Christian in the parish of -Marylebone. The English of this preface is that I -have not the Israelitish art of making bricks without -straw. I cannot invent news when nobody commits -it.” He has nothing better to tell than an anecdote of -Goldsmith, who died a few months later, and Garrick: -“I dined and passed Saturday at Beauclerk’s, with the -Edgecombes, the Garricks, and Dr. Goldsmith, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> -was most thoroughly tired, as I knew I should be, I -who hate the playing off a butt. Goldsmith is a fool, -the more wearying for having some sense. It was the -night of a new comedy, called ‘The School for Wives,’<a name="FNanchor_60" id="FNanchor_60"></a><a href="#Footnote_60" class="fnanchor">[60]</a> -which was exceedingly applauded, and which Charles -Fox says is execrable. Garrick has at least the chief -hand in it. I never saw anybody in a greater fidget, -nor more vain when he returned, for he went to the -play-house at half-an-hour after five, and we sat waiting -for him till ten, when he was to act a speech in ‘Cato’ -with Goldsmith! that is, the latter sat in t’other’s lap, -covered with a cloak, and while Goldsmith spoke, -Garrick’s arms that embraced him, made foolish -actions. How could one laugh when one had expected -this for four hours?” On Christmas night -1773, he writes: “This has been a very barren half-year. -The next, I hope, will reinstate my letters in -their proper character of newspapers.”</p> - -<p>The event, however, belied his hopes. In June, 1774, -he writes to his Countess:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“Offended at you, Madam! I have crossed myself -forty times since I read the impious words, never to be -pronounced by human lips,—nay, and to utter them, -when I am seemingly to blame!—yet, believe me, my -silence is not owing to negligence, or to that most -wicked of all sins, inconstancy. I have thought on you -waking or sleeping, whenever I have thought at all, -from the moment I saw you last; and if there was an -echo in the neighbourhood besides Mr. Cambridge, I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> -should have made it repeat your Ladyship’s name, till -the parish should have presented it for a nuisance. I -have begun twenty letters, but the naked truth is, I -found I had absolutely nothing to say. You yourself -owned, Madam, that I am grown quite lifeless, and it is -very true. I am none of your Glastonbury thorns that -blow at Christmas. I am a remnant of the last age, -and have nothing to do with the present. I am an -exile from the sunbeams of drawing-rooms; I have -quitted the gay scenes of Parliament and the Antiquarian -Society; I am not of Almack’s; I don’t understand -horse-races; I never go to reviews; what can I -have to talk of? I go to no <i lang="fr">fêtes champêtres</i>, what can I -have to think of? I know nothing but about myself, -and about myself I know nothing. I have scarce been -in town since I saw you, have scarce seen anybody here, -and don’t remember a tittle but having scolded my -gardener twice, which, indeed, would be as important -an article as any in Montaigne’s Travels, which I have -been reading, and if I was tired of his Essays, what must -one be of these! What signifies what a man thought, -who never thought of anything but himself; and what -signifies what a man did, who never did anything?”</p> - -</div> - -<p>In August, hearing that Lady Ossory had again been -disappointed of a son, he tells her: “I don’t design to -acknowledge Anne III.; I shall call her <em>Madame de Trop</em>, -as they named one of the late King of France’s daughters. -A <i lang="fr">dauphin</i>! a <i lang="fr">dauphin</i>! I will repeat it as often -as the <em>Graces</em>.” A month later he is informed that -<cite>Madame de Trop</cite> has received the name of Gertrude:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Madam</span>,—‘Methinks an Æsop’s fable you relate,’ as -Dryden says in the ‘Hind and Panther.’ A mouse that -wraps itself in a French cloak and sleeps on a couch; -and a goldfinch that taps at the window and swears it -will come in to quadrille at eleven o’clock at night! no, -no, these are none of Æsop’s cattle; they are too -fashionable to have lived so near the creation. The -mouse is neither Country Mouse nor City Mouse; and -whatever else he may be, the goldfinch must be a -Macaroni, or at least of the <i lang="fr">Sçavoir vivre</i>. I do not -deny but I have some skill in expounding types and -portents; and could give a shrewd guess at the identical -persons who have travestied themselves into a -quadruped and biped; but the truth is, I have no -mind, Madam, to be Prime Minister. King Pharaoh -is mighty apt on emergencies to send for us soothsayers, -and put the whole kingdom into our hands, if his butler -or baker, with whom he is wont to gossip, does but tell -him of a cunning man.</p> - -<p>“I have no ambition to supplant Lord North—especially -as the season approaches when I dread the -gout; and I should be very sorry to be fetched out of -my bed to pacify America. To be sure, Madam, you -give me a fair field for uttering oracles: however, all I -will unfold is, that the emblematic animals have no -views on Lady Louisa.<a name="FNanchor_61" id="FNanchor_61"></a><a href="#Footnote_61" class="fnanchor">[61]</a> The omens of her fortune are -in herself; and I will burn my books, if beauty, sense,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> -and merit, do not bestow all the happiness on her they -prognosticate.…</p> - -<p>“I like the blue eyes, Madam, better than the -denomination of Lady Gertrude Fitzpatrick, which, all -respectable as it is, is very harsh and rough sounding; -pray let her change it with the first goldfinch that offers. -Nay, I do not even trust to the blueth of the eyes. I -do not believe they last once in twenty times. One -cannot go into any village fifty miles from London -without seeing a dozen little children with flaxen hair -and eyes of sky-blue. What becomes of them all? -One does not see a grown Christian with them twice in -a century, except in poetry.</p> - -<p>“The Strawberry Gazette is very barren of news. -Mr. Garrick has the gout, which is of more consequence -to the metropolis than to Twitnamshire. Lady Hertford -dined here last Saturday, brought her loo party, -and stayed supper; there were Lady Mary Coke, Mrs. -Howe, and the Colonels Maude and Keene. This was -very heroic, for one is robbed every hundred yards. -Lady Hertford herself was attacked last Wednesday on -Hounslow Heath at three in the afternoon, but she had -two servants on horseback, who would not let her be -robbed, and the highwayman decamped.</p> - -<p>“The greatest event I know was a present I received -last Sunday, just as I was going to dine at Lady Blandford’s, -to whom I sacrificed it. It was a bunch of -grapes as big—as big—as that the two spies carried on -a pole to Joshua; for spies in those days, when they -robbed a vineyard, were not at all afraid of being overtaken.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> -In good truth, this bunch weighed three pounds -and a half, <i lang="fr">côte rôtie</i> measure; and was sent to me by -my neighbour Prado, of the tribe of Issachar, who is -descended from one of foresaid spies, but a good deal -richer than his ancestor. Well, Madam, I carried it to -the Marchioness of Blandford, but gave it to the <i lang="fr">maître -d’hotel</i>, with injunctions to conceal it till the dessert. -At the end of dinner, Lady Blandford said, she had -heard of three immense bunches of grapes at Mr. -Prado’s, at a dinner he had made for Mr. Welbore -Ellis. I said those things were always exaggerated. -She cried, Oh! but Mrs. Ellis told it, and it weighed I -don’t know how many pounds, and the Duke of Argyll -had been to see the hothouse, and she wondered, as it -was so near, I would not go and see it. Not I, indeed, -said I; I dare to say there is no curiosity in it. Just -then entered the gigantic bunch. Everybody screamed. -There, said I, I will be shot if Mr. Prado has such a -bunch as yours. In short, she suspected Lady Egremont, -and the adventure succeeded to admiration. If -you will send the Bedfordshire waggon, Madam, I will -beg a dozen grapes for you.…</p> - -<p>“Pray, Madam, is not it Farming-Woods’ tide?<a name="FNanchor_62" id="FNanchor_62"></a><a href="#Footnote_62" class="fnanchor">[62]</a> -Who is to have the care of the dear mouse in your -absence? I wish I could spare Margaret [his housekeeper], -who loves all creatures so well that she would -have been happy in the Ark, and sorry when the Deluge -ceased; unless people had come to see Noah’s old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> -house, which she would have liked still better than -cramming his menagerie.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 490px;" id="illus2"> - -<img src="images/illus2.jpg" width="490" height="650" alt="" /> - -<p class="caption-credit"><i>Sir Joshua Reynolds. Pinx.</i> <span class="caption-center"><i>A. Dawson. Ph. Sc.</i></span> <i>J. Raphael Smith. Sc.</i></p> - -<p class="caption-main"><i>Lady Gertrude Fitzpatrick.</i></p> - -</div> - -<p>The dearth of news was presently relieved by a -General Election, about which and other topics Walpole -writes to Mann:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Strawberry Hill, Oct. 6, 1774.</p> - -<p>“It would be unlike my attention and punctuality, to -see so large an event as an irregular dissolution of -Parliament, without taking any notice of it to you. It -happened last Saturday, six months before its natural -death, and without the design being known but the -Tuesday before, and that by very few persons. The -chief motive is supposed to be the ugly state of North -America, and the effects that a cross winter might have -on the next elections. Whatever were the causes, the -first consequences, as you may guess, were such a -ferment in London as is seldom seen at this dead -season of the year. Couriers, despatches, post-chaises, -post-horses, hurrying every way! Sixty messengers -passed through one single turnpike on Friday. The -whole island is by this time in equal agitation; but less -wine and money will be shed than have been at any -such period for these fifty years.…</p> - -<p>“The first symptoms are not favourable to the Court; -the great towns are casting off submission, and declaring -for popular members. London, Westminster, Middlesex, -seem to have no monarch but Wilkes, who is at -the same time pushing for the Mayoralty of London, -with hitherto a majority on the poll. It is strange how<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> -this man, like a phœnix, always revives from his embers! -America, I doubt, is still more unpromising. There are -whispers of their having assembled an armed force, and -of earnest supplications arrived for succours of men and -ships. A civil war is no trifle; and how we are to -suppress or pursue in such a vast region, with a handful -of men, I am not an Alexander to guess; and for the -fleet, can we put it upon casters and wheel it from -Hudson’s Bay to Florida? But I am an ignorant soul, -and neither pretend to knowledge nor foreknowledge. -All I perceive already is, that our Parliaments are subjected -to America and India, and must be influenced by -their politics; yet I do not believe our senators are -more universal than formerly.</p> - -<p>“It would be quite unfashionable to talk longer of -anything but elections; and yet it is the topic on which -I never talk or think, especially since <em>I took up my freedom</em>.<a name="FNanchor_63" id="FNanchor_63"></a><a href="#Footnote_63" class="fnanchor">[63]</a>…</p> - -<p>“In the midst of this combustion, we are in perils by -land and water. It has rained for this month without -intermission. There is a sea between me and Richmond, -and Sunday was se’nnight I was hurried down to -Isleworth in the ferryboat by the violence of the current, -and had great difficulty to get to shore. Our roads are -so infested by highwaymen, that it is dangerous stirring -out almost by day. Lady Hertford was attacked on -Hounslow Heath at three in the afternoon. Dr. Eliot -was shot at three days ago, without having resisted; -and the day before yesterday we were near losing our<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> -Prime Minister, Lord North; the robbers shot at the -postilion, and wounded the latter. In short, all the freebooters, -that are not in India, have taken to the highway. -The Ladies of the Bedchamber dare not go to the -Queen at Kew in an evening. The lane between me and -the Thames is the only safe road I know at present, for -it is up to the middle of the horses in water. Next -week I shall not venture to London even at noon, for -the Middlesex election is to be at Brentford, where the -two demagogues, Wilkes and Townshend, oppose each -other; and at Richmond there is no crossing the river. -How strange all this must appear to you Florentines; -but you may turn to your Machiavelli and Guicciardini, -and have some idea of it. I am the quietest man at -present in the whole island; not but I might take some -part, if I would. I was in my garden yesterday, seeing -my servants lop some trees; my brewer walked in -and pressed me to go to Guildhall for the nomination -of members for the county. I replied, calmly, -‘Sir, when I would go no more to my own election, you -may be very sure I will go to that of nobody else.’ My -old tune is,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“‘Suave mari magno turbantibus æquora ventis,’ &c.</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="right">“Adieu!</p> - -<p class="right smaller">“P.S. Arlington Street, 7th.</p> - -<p>“I am just come to town, and find your letter.… -The approaching death of the Pope will be an event of -no consequence. That old mummery is near its conclusion, -at least as a political object. The history of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> -the latter Popes will be no more read than that of the -last Constantinopolitan Emperors. Wilkes is a more -conspicuous personage in modern story than the Pontifex -Maximus of Rome. The poll for Lord Mayor ended -last night; he and his late Mayor had above 1,900 -votes, and their antagonists not 1,500. It is strange -that the more he is opposed, the more he succeeds!”</p> - -</div> - -<p>The foregoing is an average sample of the bulk of -Walpole’s Letters to Sir Horace Mann. It was to -these Macaulay referred when he said, sneeringly, that -Walpole “left copies of his private letters, with copious -notes, to be published after his decease.” There can -be no doubt that their author regarded them as a -valuable contribution to the history of his times. And -such, in truth, they were. Many of them contain full -details of some political movement, written by one who, -if not himself engaged in the struggle, was in close -communication with the actors on one side at least. -Hence, though these letters may be loaded with bias, -they are often of solid substance. If they are not -equally important for our present purpose, this is -because they deal almost entirely with public matters -and with the general news of the day. “Nothing is so -pleasant in a letter,” writes Walpole to Lady Ossory, -“as the occurrences of society. I am always regretting -in my correspondence with Madame du Deffand and -Sir Horace Mann, that I must not make use of them, -as the one has never lived in England, and the other -not these fifty years; and so, my private stories would -want notes as much as Petronius. Sir Horace and I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> -have no acquaintance in common but the Kings and -Queens of Europe.”</p> - -<p>In a letter to Mann, dated November 24, 1774, -Walpole returns to the subject of the new Parliament:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“A great event happened two days ago—a political -and moral event; the sudden death of that second -Kouli Khan, Lord Clive. There was certainly illness -in the case; the world thinks more than illness. His -constitution was exceedingly broken and disordered, -and grown subject to violent pains and convulsions. -He came unexpectedly to town last Monday, and they -say, ill. On Tuesday his physician gave him a dose of -laudanum, which had not the desired effect. On the -rest, there are two stories; one, that the physician -repeated the dose; the other, that he doubled it himself, -contrary to advice.<a name="FNanchor_64" id="FNanchor_64"></a><a href="#Footnote_64" class="fnanchor">[64]</a> In short, he has terminated -at fifty a life of so much glory, reproach, art, wealth, -and ostentation! He had just named ten members for -the new Parliament.<a name="FNanchor_65" id="FNanchor_65"></a><a href="#Footnote_65" class="fnanchor">[65]</a></p> - -<p>“Next Tuesday that Parliament is to meet—and a -deep game it has to play! few Parliaments a greater. -The world is in amaze here that no account is arrived -from America of the result of their General Congress—if -any is come, it is very secret; and <em>that</em> has no favourable -aspect. The combination and spirit there seem to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> -be universal, and is very alarming. I am the humble -servant of events, and you know never meddle with -prophecy. It would be difficult to descry good omens, -be the issue what it will.</p> - -<p>“The old French Parliament is restored with great -<i lang="fr">éclat</i>. Monsieur de Maurepas, author of the revolution, -was received one night at the Opera with boundless -shouts of applause. It is even said that the mob intended, -when the King should go to hold the <i lang="fr">lit de justice</i>, -to draw his coach. How singular it would be if -Wilkes’s case should be copied for a King of France! -Do you think Rousseau was in the right, when he said -that he could tell what would be the manners of any -capital city, from certain given lights? I don’t know -what he may do on Constantinople and Pekin—but -Paris and London! I don’t believe Voltaire likes these -changes. I have seen nothing of his writing for many -months; not even on the poisoning Jesuits.<a name="FNanchor_66" id="FNanchor_66"></a><a href="#Footnote_66" class="fnanchor">[66]</a> For our -part, I repeat it, we shall contribute nothing to the -<cite>Histoire des Mœurs</cite>, not for want of materials, but for -want of writers. We have comedies without novelty, -gross satires without stings, metaphysical eloquence, -and antiquarians that discover nothing.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“‘Bœotûm in crasso jurares aere natos!’</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>“Don’t tell me I am grown old and peevish and -supercilious—name the geniuses of 1774, and I submit. -The next Augustan age will dawn on the other side of -the Atlantic. There will, perhaps, be a Thucydides at -Boston, a Xenophon at New York, and, in time, a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> -Virgil at Mexico, and a Newton at Peru. At last, some -curious traveller from Lima will visit England, and give -a description of the ruins of St. Paul’s, like the editions -of Balbec and Palmyra; but am I not prophesying, -contrary to my consummate prudence, and casting -horoscopes of empires like Rousseau? Yes; well, I will -go and dream of my visions.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>More than one writer has cited Walpole’s traveller -from Lima as the original of Lord Macaulay’s traveller -from New Zealand, who, in the midst of a vast solitude, -takes his stand on a broken arch of London Bridge to -sketch the ruins of St. Paul’s. Others have traced -the passage in the celebrated Review of Ranke’s -“History of the Popes,” to Volney, Mrs. Barbauld, -Kirke White, and Shelley; while others again have -pointed out that, from whatsoever source derived, the -idea expressed in this passage had been twice before -employed by Macaulay, once, in 1824, in a Review of -Mitford’s “Greece,” and the second time, in 1829, in -his Review of Mill’s “Essay on Government.” The -picture of the New Zealander, however, resembles the -less ambitious, but equally graphic, figure of the traveller -from Lima more closely than it does any of the -other passages referred to.<a name="FNanchor_67" id="FNanchor_67"></a><a href="#Footnote_67" class="fnanchor">[67]</a> What is remarkable is,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> -that the Review of Ranke’s “History” appeared in -October, 1840, whereas the later portion of Walpole’s -correspondence with Mann, to which the above extract -belongs, was first published from the original manuscripts -in 1843. How then could Macaulay know anything -of the Peruvian stranger?<a name="FNanchor_68" id="FNanchor_68"></a><a href="#Footnote_68" class="fnanchor">[68]</a></p> - -<p>The following was also addressed to Sir H. Mann. -It is dated in May, 1775:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“You have not more Masquerades in Carnival than -we have; there is one at the Pantheon to-night, another -on Monday; and in June is to be a pompous one on the -water, and at Ranelagh. This and the first are given -by the Club called the <i lang="fr">Sçavoir Vivre</i>, who till now have -only shone by excess of gaming. The leader is that -fashionable orator Lord Lyttelton,<a name="FNanchor_69" id="FNanchor_69"></a><a href="#Footnote_69" class="fnanchor">[69]</a> of whom I need -not tell you more. I have done with these diversions, -and enjoy myself here. Your old acquaintance, Lord -and Lady Dacre, and your old friend, Mr. Chute, dined -with me to-day: poor Lord Dacre<a name="FNanchor_70" id="FNanchor_70"></a><a href="#Footnote_70" class="fnanchor">[70]</a> is carried about,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> -though not worse than he has been these twenty years. -Strawberry was in great beauty; what joy I should -have in showing it to you! Is this a wish I must never -indulge? Alas!</p> - -<p>“I have had a long chain of thoughts since I wrote -the last paragraph. They ended in smiling at the word -<em>never</em>. How one pronounces it to the last moment! -Would not one think I counted on a long series of years -to come? Yet no man has the termination of all his -views more before his eyes, or knows better the idleness -of framing visions to one’s self. One passes away so -soon, and worlds succeed to worlds, in which the occupiers -build the same castles in the air. What is ours -but the present moment? And how many of mine are -gone! And what do I want to show you? A plaything-vision, -that has amused a poor transitory mortal -for a few hours, and that will pass away like its master! -Well, and yet is it not as sensible to conform to common -ideas, and to live while one lives? Perhaps the wisest -way is to cheat one’s self. Did one concentre all one’s -thoughts on the nearness and certainty of dissolution, -all the world would lie eating and sleeping like the -savage Americans. Our wishes and views were given -us to gild the dream of life, and if a Strawberry Hill can -soften the decays of age, it is wise to embrace it, and -due gratitude to the Great Giver to be happy with it. -The true pain is the reflection on the numbers that are -not so blessed; yet I have no doubt but the real -miseries of life—I mean those that are unmerited and -unavoidable,—will be compensated to the sufferers.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> -Tyrants are a proof of an hereafter. Millions of men -cannot be formed for the sport of a cruel child.</p> - -<p>“How happy is the Pretender in missing a Crown! -When dead, he will have all the advantage that other -Kings have, the being remembered; and that greater -advantage, which Kings who die in their childhood -have, historians will say, he would have been a great -King if he had lived to reign; and that greatest advantage -which so very few of them have, his reign will be -stained with no crimes and blunders. If he is at -Florence, pray recommend me to him for his historian; -you see I have all the qualities a Monarch demands, I -am disposed to flatter him. You may tell him too what I -have done for his uncle Richard III. The mischief is in -it, if I am not qualified for a Royal Historiographer, -when I have whitewashed one of the very few whom my -brethren, so contrary to their custom, have agreed to -traduce.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>In the autumn of 1775, Walpole was in Paris, whence -he sends, for the benefit of Conway’s daughter, this -important piece of information: “Tell Mrs. Damer, -that the fashion now is to erect the <i lang="fr">toupée</i> into a high -detached tuft of hair, like a cockatoo’s crest; and this -<i lang="fr">toupée</i> they call <i lang="fr">la physionomie</i>—I don’t guess why.” -And in giving George Selwyn an account of the modish -French ladies whom he met, he adds a description -suited to the humour of that facetious gentleman: -“With one of them,” he says, “you would be delighted, -a Madame de Marchais. She is not perfectly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> -young, has a face like a Jew pedlar, her person is about -four feet, her head about six, and her <i lang="fr">coiffure</i> about ten. -Her forehead, chin, and neck are whiter than a miller’s; -and she wears more festoons of natural flowers than all -the <i lang="fr">figurantes</i> at the Opera. Her eloquence is still -more abundant, her <em>attentions</em> exuberant. She talks -volumes, writes folios—I mean in <i lang="fr">billets</i>; presides over -the Académie, inspires passions.… She has a house -in a nut-shell, that is fuller of invention than a fairy -tale; her bed stands in the middle of the room, because -there is no other space that would hold it; it is surrounded -by a perspective of looking-glasses.…” In -reference to the rage for <i lang="fr">billets,</i> he mentions “a collection -that was found last winter at Monsieur de Pondeveylle’s: -there were sixteen thousand from one lady, in -a correspondence of only eleven years. For fear of -setting the house on fire if thrown into the chimney, -the executors crammed them into the oven.” “There -have been known,” he adds, “persons here who wrote -to one another four times a day; and I was told of one -couple, who being always together, and the lover being -fond of writing, he placed a screen between them, and -then wrote to Madam on t’other side, and flung them -over.” Of his “dear old friend,” he reports:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“Madame du Deffand has been so ill, that the day -she was seized I thought she would not live till night. -Her Herculean weakness, which could not resist strawberries and -cream after supper, has surmounted all the -<em>ups</em> and <em>downs</em> which followed her excess; but her impatience<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> -to go everywhere and to do everything has -been attended with a kind of relapse, and another kind -of giddiness; so that I am not quite easy about her, as -they allow her to take no nourishment to recruit, and -she will die of inanition, if she does not live upon it. -She cannot lift her head from the pillow without <i lang="fr">étourdissemens</i>; -and yet her spirits gallop faster than anybody’s, -and so do her repartees. She has a great -supper to-night for the Duc de Choiseul, and was in -such a passion yesterday with her cook about it, and -that put Tonton<a name="FNanchor_71" id="FNanchor_71"></a><a href="#Footnote_71" class="fnanchor">[71]</a> into such a rage, that <i lang="fr">nos dames de -Saint Joseph</i> thought the devil or the philosophers were -flying away with their convent! As I have scarce -quitted her, I can have had nothing to tell you. If she -gets well, as I trust, I shall set out on the 12th; but I -cannot leave her in any danger—though I shall run -many myself, if I stay longer. I have kept such bad -hours with this <i lang="fr">malade</i>, that I have had alarms of gout; -and bad weather, worse inns, and a voyage in winter, -will ill suit me.…</p> - -<p>“I must repose a great while after all this living in -company; nay, intend to go very little into the world -again, as I do not admire the French way of burning -one’s candle to the very snuff in public.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>At the end of 1775, Sir Horace Mann’s elder brother -died, the family estate came to the Ambassador, and -Walpole flattered himself “that a regular correspondence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> -of thirty-four years will cease, and that I shall see -him again before we meet in the Elysian fields.” He -was disappointed. In February, 1776, he writes to his -old friend: “You have chilled me so thoroughly by the -coldness of your answer, and by the dislike you express -to England, that I shall certainly press you no more to -come. I thought at least it would have cost you a -struggle.” Again, a little later: “Pray be assured, I -acquiesce in all you say on your own return, though -grieved at your resolution, and more so at the necessity -you find in adhering to it. It is not my disposition to -prefer my own pleasure to the welfare of my friends. -Your return might have opened a warm channel of -affection which above thirty years could not freeze; but -I am sure you know my steadiness too well to suspect -me of cooling to you, because we are both grown too -old to meet again. I wished that meeting as a luxury -beyond what old age often tastes; but I am too well -prepared for parting with everything to be ill-humouredly -chagrined because one vision fails.” In -July, 1776, we find the following, also addressed to -Mann:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“I did flatter myself with being diverted at your surprise -from so general an alteration of persons, objects, -manners, as you would have found; but there is an end -of all that pleasing vision! I remember when my father -went out of place, and was to return visits, which -Ministers are excused from doing, he could not guess -where he was, finding himself in so many new streets<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> -and squares. This was thirty years ago. They have -been building ever since, and one would think they had -imported two or three capitals. London could put -Florence into its fob-pocket; but as they build so -slightly, if they did not rebuild, it would be just the -reverse of Rome, a vast circumference of city surrounding -an area of ruins. As its present progress is chiefly -north, and Southwark marches south, the metropolis -promises to be as broad as long. Rows of houses shoot -out every way like a polypus; and, so great is the rage -of building everywhere, that, if I stay here a fortnight, -without going to town, I look about to see if no new -house is built since I went last. America and France -must tell us how long this exuberance of opulence is to -last! The East Indies, I believe, will not contribute to -it much longer. Babylon and Memphis and Rome, -probably, stared at their own downfall. Empires did -not use to philosophise, nor thought much but of themselves. -Such revolutions are better known now, and -we ought to expect them—I do not say we do. This -little island will be ridiculously proud some ages hence -of its former brave days, and swear its capital was once -as big again as Paris, or—what is to be the name of -the city that will then give laws to Europe?—perhaps -New York or Philadelphia.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>At the close of 1776, Walpole had another severe -illness. It is first mentioned in a letter to Lady -Ossory:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p><div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“It is not from being made Archbishop of York, that -I write by a secretary [Kirgate], Madam; but because -my right hand has lost its cunning. It has had the -gout ever since Friday night, and I am overjoyed with -it, for there is no appearance of its going any farther. -I came to town on Sunday in a panic, concluding I -should be bedrid for three months, but I went out last -night, and think I shall be able in a few days to play -upon the guitar if I could play upon it at all.…</p> - -<p>“I have seen the picture of ‘St. George,’ and approve -the Duke of Bedford’s head, and the exact likeness -of Miss Vernon,<a name="FNanchor_72" id="FNanchor_72"></a><a href="#Footnote_72" class="fnanchor">[72]</a> but the attitude is mean and -foolish, and expresses silly wonderment. But of all, -delicious is a picture of a little girl of the Duke of -Buccleuch, who is overlaid with a long cloak, bonnet, -and muff, in the midst of the snow, and is perishing -blue and red with cold, but looks so smiling, and so -good-humoured, that one longs to catch her up in one’s -arms and kiss her till she squalls.</p> - -<p>“My hand has not a word more to say.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 490px;" id="illus3"> - -<img src="images/illus3.jpg" width="490" height="650" alt="" /> - -<p class="caption-credit"><i>Sir Joshua Reynolds. Pinx.</i> <span class="caption-center"><i>A. Dawson. Ph. Sc.</i></span> <i>J. Raphael Smith. Sc.</i></p> - -<p class="caption-main"><i>Lady Caroline Montagu.</i></p> - -</div> - -<p>The attack proved obstinate, and we have again -complaints of the English climate, mixed with lamentations -over the change in English manners. Thus in -February, 1777, he writes:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“Everything is changed; as always must happen -when one grows old, and is prejudiced to one’s old ways. -I do not like dining at nearly six, nor beginning the -evening at ten at night. If one does not conform, one -must live alone; and that is more disagreeable and -more difficult in town than in the country, where old -useless people ought to live. Unfortunately, the country -does not agree with me; and I am sure it is not fancy; -for my violent partiality to Strawberry Hill cannot be -imposed upon. I am persuaded that it is the dampness -of this climate that gives me so much gout; and -London, from the number of fires and inhabitants, must -be the driest spot in the nation.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>The following, written to Lord Nuneham in July, is -in a gayer tone:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“Now I have taken this liberty, my dear Lord, I -must take a little more; you know my old admiration -and envy are your garden. I do not grudge Pomona or -Sir James Cockburn their hot-houses, nor intend to -ruin myself by raising sugar and water in tanner’s bark -and peach skins. The Flora Nunehamica is the height -of my ambition, and if your Linnæus should have any -disciple that would condescend to look after my little -flower-garden, it would be the delight of my eyes and -nose, provided the cataracts of heaven are ever shut -again! Not one proviso do I make, but that the pupil -be not a Scot. We had peace and warm weather -before the inundation of that northern people, and -therefore I beg to have no Attila for my gardener.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Apropos, don’t your Lordship think that another -set of legislators, the Maccaronis and Maccaronesses, -are very wise? People abuse them for turning days, -nights, hours and seasons topsy-turvy; but surely it -was upon mature reflection. We had a set of customs -and ideas borrowed from the continent that by no -means suited our climate. Reformers bring back things -to their natural course. Notwithstanding what I said -in spite in the paragraph above, we are in truth but -Greenlanders, and ought to conform to our climate. -We should lay in store of provisions and candles and -masquerades and coloured lamps for ten months in the -year, and shut out our twilight and enjoy ourselves. In -September and October, we may venture out of our ark, -and make our hay, and gather in our corn, and go to -horse-races, and kill pheasants and partridges for stock -for our winter’s supper. I sailed in a skiff and pair this -morning to Lady Cecilia Johnston, and found her, like -a good housewife, sitting over her fire, with her cats -and dogs and birds and children. She brought out a -dram to warm me and my servants, and we were very -merry and comfortable. As Lady Nuneham has neither -so many two-footed or four-footed cares upon her hands, -I hope her hands have been better employed.</p> - -<p>“I wish I could peep over her shoulder one of these -wet mornings!”</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</h2> - -<div class="summary"> - -<p>The American War.—Irish Discontent.—Want of Money.—The -Houghton Pictures Sold.—Removal to Berkeley Square.—Ill-health.—A -Painting by Zoffani.—The Rage for News.—The Duke -of Gloucester.—Wilkes.—Fashions, Old and New.—Mackerel -News.—Pretty Stories.—Madame de Sévigné’s Cabinet.—Picture -of his Waldegrave Nieces.—The Gordon Riots.—Death of -Madame du Deffand.—The Blue Stockings.</p> - -</div> - -<p>Humourist as he was, and too often swayed by prejudice, -no man had a sounder judgment than Walpole -when he gave his reason fair play. In his estimate of -public events, he sometimes displayed unusual sagacity. -Though his dislike of Lord Chatham led him to disparage -the efforts of the old man eloquent to avert the -American War—efforts which filled Franklin with admiration—he -yet foresaw quite as clearly as Chatham -the disastrous results of that contest. The celebrated -speeches which fell dead on the ear of Parliament had -no more effect upon Walpole; but Walpole did not -need to be moved by them, for he was convinced -already. “This interlude,” he writes to Conway, who -was then in Paris, “would be entertaining, if the scene -was not so totally gloomy. The Cabinet have determined -on civil war.… There is food for meditation!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> -Will the French you converse with be civil and keep -their countenances? Pray remember it is not decent to -be dancing at Paris, when there is a civil war in your -own country. You would be like the country squire, -who passed by with his hounds as the battle of Edgehill -began.” The letter in which these words occur is dated -January 22, 1775. Three weeks later, the writer adds: -“The war with our Colonies, which is now declared, is -a proof how much influence jargon has on human -actions. A war on our own trade is <em>popular</em>!<a name="FNanchor_73" id="FNanchor_73"></a><a href="#Footnote_73" class="fnanchor">[73]</a> Both -Houses are as eager for it as they were for conquering -the Indies—which acquits them a little of rapine, when -they are as glad of what will impoverish them as of -what they fancied was to enrich them.” His sympathy, -as well as his judgment, was on the side of the Colonies. -On September 7th, 1775, he writes to Mann: “You -will not be surprised that I am what I always was, a -zealot for liberty in every part of the globe, and consequently -that I most heartily wish success to the -Americans. They have hitherto not made <em>one</em> blunder; -and the Administration have made a thousand, besides -the two capital ones, of first provoking, and then of uniting -the Colonies. The latter seem to have as good heads as -hearts, as we want both.” And on the 11th: “The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> -Parliament is to meet on the 20th of next month, and -vote twenty-six thousand seamen! What a paragraph -of blood is there! With what torrents must liberty be -preserved in America! In England what can save it?… -What prospect of comfort has a true Englishman? -Why, that Philip II. miscarried against the boors of -Holland, and that Louis XIV. could not replace -James II. on the throne!” And when Fortune declared -herself on the side of the Colonists, Horace, unmoved -by the reverses of his country, steadily preserved the -same tone. “We have been horribly the aggressors,” -he wrote at the end of 1777, “and I must rejoice that the -Americans are to be free, as they had a right to be, and -as I am sure they have shown they deserve to be.” But -the calamities and disgraces of the time weighed heavily -on his spirits. His correspondence throughout 1777 -and the two following years is full of the American War. -He recurs to the subject again and again, and harps -upon it continually. It does not fall within our plan to -quote his criticisms and reflections on the conduct of -Lord North and his opponents. They are generally as -acute and sensible as they are always vigorous and -lively. The chief mistake one remarks in them is, that -they assume the victory of America to mean the ruin -of England’s Empire. The writer saw British troops -everywhere defeated, retreating, laying down their -arms; France allying herself with the rebellious -Colonies, and threatening England with invasion; -Spain joining in the hostile league; and Ireland -showing fresh signs of disaffection: what wonder if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> -he was tempted to predict that we should “moulder -piecemeal into our insignificant islandhood?” In May, -1779, he writes: “Our oppressive partiality to two or -three manufacturing towns in England has revolted the -Irish, and they have entered into combinations against -purchasing English goods in terms more offensive than -the first associations of the Colonies. In short, we -have for four or five years displayed no alacrity or -address, but in provoking our friends and furnishing -weapons of annoyance to our enemies; and the unhappy -facility with which the Parliament has subscribed to all -these oversights has deceived the Government into -security, and encouraged it to pull almost the whole -fabric on its own head. We can escape but by concessions -and disgrace; and when we attain peace, the -terms will prove that Parliamentary majorities have -voted away the wisdom, glory, and power of the -nation.”</p> - -<p>Before the date of this extract, the pressure of the -war had made itself felt in English society. In the -preceding summer, Horace had written to Mason, then -engaged on his poem of “The English Garden”:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“Distress is already felt; one hears of nothing but of -the want of money; one sees it every hour. I sit in my -Blue window, and miss nine in ten of the carriages that -used to pass before it. Houses sell for nothing, which, -two years ago, nabobs would have given lacs of diamonds -for. Sir Gerard Vanneck’s house and beautiful -terrace on the Thames, with forty acres of ground, and -valued by his father at twenty thousand pounds, was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> -bought in last week at six thousand. Richmond is -deserted; an hundred and twenty coaches used to be -counted at the church-door—there are now twenty. I -know nobody that grows rich but Margaret. This -Halcyon season has brought her more customers than -ever, and were anything to happen to her, I have -thoughts, like greater folk, of being my own minister, -and showing my house myself. I don’t wonder <em>your -Garden</em> has grown in such a summer, and I am glad it -has, that our taste in gardening may be immortal in -verse, for I doubt it has seen its best days! Your -poem may transplant it to America, whither our best -works will be carried now, as our worst used to be. -Do not you feel satisfied in knowing you shall be a -classic in a free and rising empire? Swell all your -ideas, give a loose to all your poetry; your lines will be -repeated on the banks of the Orinoko; and which is -another comfort, Ossian’s ‘Dirges’ will never be known -there. Poor Strawberry must sink <i lang="la">in fæce Romuli</i>; that -melancholy thought silences me.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Besides being vexed at the state of public affairs, -Walpole suffered much about this time from the gout, -and from family troubles. His nephew, Lord Orford, -having recovered from a second attack of insanity, -resolved on selling the pictures at Houghton. In -February, 1779, Horace writes to Lady Ossory: “The -pictures at Houghton, I hear, and I fear, are sold: -what can I say? I do not like even to think on it. It -is the most signal mortification to my idolatry for my -father’s memory, that it could receive. It is stripping<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> -the temple of his glory and of his affection. A madman -excited by rascals has burnt his Ephesus. I must -never cast a thought towards Norfolk more; nor will -hear my nephew’s name if I can avoid it. Him I can -only pity; though it is strange he should recover any -degree of sense, and never any of feeling!” The -transaction was not, in fact, at that moment concluded. -In the course of the same year, however, the whole -gallery was sold to the Empress of Russia for a little -more than forty thousand pounds. Walpole did not -think the bargain a bad one, though he would rather, -he said, the pictures were sold to the Crown of -England than to that of Russia, where they would be -burnt in a wooden palace on the first insurrection, -while in England they would still be Sir Robert Walpole’s -Collection. “But,” he added, “my grief is that -they are not to remain at Houghton, where he placed -them and wished them to remain.”</p> - -<p>While grieving over his father’s pictures, Horace -found himself involved in a Chancery suit. The lease -of his town house in Arlington Street running out about -this time, he had bought a larger house in Berkeley -Square. Difficulties, however, hindered the completion -of the purchase, and the affair went into Chancery. -Fortunately, under Walpole’s management, the suit -became a friendly one. “I have persisted in complimenting -and flattering my parties, till by dint of complaisance -and respect I have brought them to pique -themselves on equal attentions; so that, instead of a -lawsuit, it has more the air of a treaty between two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> -little German princes who are mimicking their betters -only to display their titular dignities. His Serene Highness, -Colonel Bishopp, is the most obsequious and -devoted servant of my Serenity the Landgrave of -Strawberry.” The judge was equally agreeable. -“Yesterday I received notice from my attorney that -the Master of the Rolls has, with epigrammatic despatch, -heard my cause, and pronounced a decree in -my favour. Surely, the whip of the new driver, Lord -Thurlow, has pervaded all the hard wheels of the law, -and set them galloping. I must go to town on Monday, -and get my money ready for payment,—not from impatience -to enter on my premises, but though the -French declare they are coming to burn London, bank-bills -are still more combustible than houses, and should -my banker’s shop be reduced to ashes, I might have a -mansion to pay for, and nothing to pay with. If both -were consumed, at least I should not be in debt.” The -purchase-money paid, and possession taken, the next -step was to remove to Berkeley Square. In October, -1779, he writes to Lady Ossory, whose sister-in-law,<a name="FNanchor_74" id="FNanchor_74"></a><a href="#Footnote_74" class="fnanchor">[74]</a> -the newly-married Countess of Shelburne, was just -established in the same square:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“My constitution, which set out under happy stars, -seems to keep pace with the change of constellations, -and fail like the various members of the empire. I am -now confined with the rheumatism in my left arm, and -find no benefit from our woollen manufacture, which I -flattered myself would always be a resource. On<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> -Monday I shall remove to Shelburne Square, and -watch impatiently the opening of the Countess’s windows; -though with all her and her Earl’s goodness to -me, I doubt I shall profit little of either. I do not love -to be laughed at or pitied, and dread exposing myself -to numbers of strange servants and young people, who -wonder what Methuselah does out of his coffin. Lady -Blandford is gone; her antediluvian dowagers dispersed; -amongst whom I was still reckoned a lively -young creature. Wisdom I left forty years ago to -Welbore Ellis, and must not pretend to rival him now, -when he is grown so rich by the semblance of it. Since -I cannot then act old age with dignity, I must keep myself -out of the way, and weep for England in a corner.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>The Lady Blandford mentioned in this passage was -a widow who had lived within a few miles of Horace, at -Sheen, and had recently died. During her illness, Walpole, -in writing to Lady Ossory, had dwelt on the Roman -fortitude with which the sick lady supported her sufferings, -and on the devotion shown to her by her friend, -Miss Stapylton. He added in his usual strain: “Miss -Stapylton has £30,000, and Lady Blandford nothing. -I wish we had some of these exalted characters in -breeches! These two women shine like the last -sparkles in a piece of burnt paper, which the children -call the parson and clerk. Alas! the rest of our -old ladies are otherwise employed; they are at the -head of fleets and armies.” Walpole at this moment -was altogether out of heart. “I see myself a poor -invalid, threatened with a painful and irksome conclusion,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> -and mortified at seeing the decay of my country -more rapid than my own.” But he could still keep -up a tone of gaiety. In November he wrote to Mann:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“I went this morning to Zoffani’s to see his picture -or portrait of the ‘Tribune at Florence;’ and, though -my letter will not put on its boots these three days, I -must write while the subject is fresh in my head. The -first thing I looked for, was <em>you</em>—and I could not find -you. At last I said, ‘Pray, who is <em>that</em> Knight of the -Bath?’—‘Sir Horace Mann.’—‘Impossible!’ said I. -My dear Sir, how you have left me in the lurch!—you -are grown fat, jolly, young; while I am become the -skeleton of Methuselah.…</p> - -<p>“Well! but are you really so portly a personage as -Zoffani has represented you? I envy you. Everybody -can grow younger and plump, but I. My brother, Sir -Edward Walpole, is as sleek as an infant, and, though -seventy-three, is still quite beautiful. He has a charming -colour, and not a wrinkle. I told him, when Lord -Orford<a name="FNanchor_75" id="FNanchor_75"></a><a href="#Footnote_75" class="fnanchor">[75]</a> was in danger, that he might think what he -would, but I would carry him into the Court of Chancery, -and put it to the consciences of the judges, which -of us two was the elder by eleven years?”</p> - -</div> - -<p>And two days later we have the following amusing -letter to Lady Ossory:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Berkeley Square, Nov. 14, 1779.</p> - -<p>“I must be equitable; I must do the world justice; -there are really some hopes of its amendment; I have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> -not heard one lie these four days; but then, indeed, I -have heard nothing. Well, then, why do you write? -Stay, Madam; my letter is not got on horseback yet; -nor shall it mount till it has something to carry. It is -my duty, as your gazetteer, to furnish you with news, -true or false, and you would certainly dismiss me if I -did not, at least, tell you something that was impossible. -The whole nation is content with hearing anything -new, let it be ever so bad. Tell the first man you meet -that Ireland has revolted; away he runs, and tells -everybody he meets,—everybody tells everybody, and -the next morning they ask for more news. Well, -Jamaica is taken; oh, Jamaica is taken. Next day, -what news? Why, Paul Jones is landed in Rutlandshire, -and has carried off the Duchess of Devonshire, -and a squadron is fitting out to prevent it; and I am to -have a pension for having given the earliest intelligence; -and there is to be a new farce called <cite>The Rutlandshire -Invasion</cite>, and the King and Queen will come to town -to see it, and the Prince of Wales will not, because he -is not old enough to understand pantomimes.<a name="FNanchor_76" id="FNanchor_76"></a><a href="#Footnote_76" class="fnanchor">[76]</a></p> - -<p>“Well, Madam; having despatched the nation and -its serious affairs, one may chat over private matters. -I have seen Lord Macartney, and do affirm that he is -shrunk, and has a <i lang="fr">soupçon</i> of black that was not wont to -reside in his complexion.…</p> - -<p>“Mr. Beauclerk has built a library in Great Russell -Street, Bloomsbury, that reaches half-way to Highgate.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> -Everybody goes to see it; it has put the Museum’s nose -quite out of joint.</p> - -<p>“Now I return to politics. Sir Ralph Payne and -Dr. Johnson are answering General Burgoyne, and they -say the words are to be so long that the reply must be -printed in a pamphlet as long as an atlas, but in an -Elzevir type, or the first sentence would fill twenty -pages in octavo. You may depend upon the truth of it, -for Mr. Cumberland told it in confidence to one with -whom he is not at all acquainted, who told it to one -whom I never saw; so you see, Madam, there is no -questioning the authority.</p> - -<p>“I will not answer so positively for what I am going -to tell you, as I had it only from the person himself. -The Duke of Gloucester was at Bath with the Margrave -of Anspach. Lord Nugent came up and would talk to -the Duke, and then asked if he might take the liberty of -inviting his Royal Highness to dinner? I think you -will admire the quickness and propriety of the answer:—the -Duke replied, ‘My Lord, I make no acquaintance -but in London,’ where you know, Madam, he only has -levees. The Irishman continued to talk to him even -after that rebuff. He certainly hoped to have been -very artful—to have made court there, and yet not -have offended anywhere else<a name="FNanchor_77" id="FNanchor_77"></a><a href="#Footnote_77" class="fnanchor">[77]</a> by not going in town, -which would have been a gross affront to the Duke, had -he accepted the invitation.</p> - -<p>“I was at Blackheath t’other morning, where I was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> -grieved. There are eleven Vander Werffs that cost an -immense sum: half of them are spoiled since Sir -Gregory Page’s death by servants neglecting to shut -out the sun. There is another room hung with the -history of Cupid and Psyche, in twelve small pictures -by Luca Giordano, that are sweet. There is, too, a -glorious Claude, some fine Teniers, a noble Rubens -and Snyders, two beautiful Philippo Lauras, and a few -more,—and several very bad. The house is magnificent, -but wounded me; it was built on the model of -Houghton, except that three rooms are thrown into a -gallery.</p> - -<p>“Now I have tapped the chapter of pictures, you -must go and see Zoffani’s ‘Tribune at Florence,’ which is -an astonishing piece of work, with a vast deal of merit.</p> - -<p>“There too you will see a delightful piece of Wilkes -looking—no, squinting tenderly at his daughter. It is -a caricature of the Devil acknowledging Miss Sin in -Milton. I do not know why, but they are under a -palm-tree, which has not grown in a free country for -some centuries.</p> - -<p class="right smaller">“15th.</p> - -<p>“With all my pretences, there is no more veracity in -me than in a Scotch runner for the Ministry. Here -must I send away my letter without a word in it worth -a straw. All the good news I know is, that a winter is -come in that will send armies and navies to bed, and -one may stir out in November without fear of being -tanned. I am heartily glad that we shall keep Jamaica -and the East Indies another year, that one may have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> -time to lay in a stock of tea and sugar for the rest of -one’s days. I think only of the necessaries of life, and -do not care a rush for gold and diamonds, and the -pleasure of stealing logwood. The friends of Government, -who have thought of nothing but of reducing us -to our islandhood, and bringing us back to the simplicity -of ancient times, when we were the frugal, -temperate, virtuous old English, ask how we did before -tea and sugar were known. Better, no doubt; but as -I did not happen to be born two or three hundred -years ago, I cannot recollect precisely whether diluted -acorns, and barley bread spread with honey, made a -very luxurious breakfast.</p> - -<p>“I was last night at Lady Lucan’s to hear the -Misses Bingham sing Jomelli’s ‘Miserere,’ set for two -voices. There were only the Duchess of Bedford, -Lady Bute … and half a dozen Irish.… The -Duchess told me, that a habit-maker returned from -Ampthill is gone stark in love with Lady Ossory, on -fitting her with the new dress—I think they call it a -Levite—and says he never saw so glorious a figure. I -know that; and so you would be in a hop-sack, Madam—but -where is the grace in a man’s nightgown bound -round with a belt?</p> - -<p>“Good-night, Lady! I hope I shall have something -to tell you in my next, that my letter may be -shorter.</p> - -<p class="right smaller">“Codicil to my to-day’s:—viz. Nov. 15, 1779.</p> - -<p>“I enclosed the above to Lord Ossory, because it -was not worth sixpence, and had sent it to the post,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> -and then went to Bedford House, where, lo! enters -Lady Shelburne, looking as fresh and ripe as Pomona. -N.B. Her windows were not open yesterday, and to-day -there was such a mist, ermined with snow, that I -could not see. I find it was not a habit-maker that -was smitten with your Ladyship as a pig in a poke, -but somebody else; but as her Grace’s mouth has lost -one tooth, and my ear, I suspect, another, I have not -found out who the unfortunate man is.</p> - -<p>“Next enters your Ladyship’s letter. I have seen -my dignity of Minister to Spain<a name="FNanchor_78" id="FNanchor_78"></a><a href="#Footnote_78" class="fnanchor">[78]</a>—many a fair castle -have I erected in that country, but truly never resided -there.… This is long enough for a codicil, in which -one has nothing more to give.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>In the same lively mood, he writes about the same -time to Mason:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Berkeley Square, Nov. I don’t know what day.</p> - -<p>“If you can be content with anything but news as -fresh as mackerel, I will tell you as pretty a story as a -gentleman can hear in a winter’s day, though it has not -a grain of novelty in it but to those who never heard it, -which was my case till yesterday.</p> - -<p>“When that philosophic tyrant the Czarina (who -murdered two emperors for the good of their people, to -the edification of Voltaire, Diderot, and D’Alembert) -proposed to give a code of laws that should serve all -her subjects as much or as little as she pleased, she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> -ordered her various states to send deputies who should -specify their respective wants. Amongst the rest came -a representative of the Samoieds; he waited on the -marshal of the diet of legislation, who was Archbishop -of Novgorod. ‘I am come,’ said the savage, ‘but I do -not know for what.’ ‘My clement mistress,’ said his -Grace, ‘means to give a body of laws to all her -dominions.’—‘Whatever laws the Empress shall give -us,’ said the Samoied, ‘we shall obey, but we want no -laws.’—‘How,’ said the Prelate, ‘not want laws! why, -you are men like the rest of the world, and must have -the same passions, and consequently must murder, -cheat, steal, rob, plunder,’ &c., &c., &c.</p> - -<p>“‘It is true,’ said the savage, ‘we have now and then -a bad person among us, but he is sufficiently punished -by being shut out of all society.’</p> - -<p>“If you love nature in its <i lang="la">naturalibus</i>, you will like -this tale. I think one might make a pretty ‘Spectator’ -by inverting the hint: I would propose a general jail -delivery, not only from all prisons, but madhouses, as -not sufficiently ample for a quarter of the patients and -candidates; and to save trouble, and yet make as -impartial distinction, to confine the virtuous and the -few that are in their senses. But I am digressing, and -have not yet told you the story I intended; at least, -only the first part.</p> - -<p>“One day Count Orlow, the Czarina’s accomplice in -more ways than one, exhibited himself to the Samoied -in the robes of the order, and refulgent with diamonds. -The savage surveyed him attentively, but silently.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> -‘May I ask,’ said the favourite, ‘what it is you admire?’—‘Nothing,’ -replied the Tartar: ‘I was thinking -how ridiculous you are.’—‘Ridiculous,’ cried -Orlow, angrily; ‘and pray in what?’—‘Why, you -shave your beard to look young, and powder your -hair to look old!’</p> - -<p>“Well! as you like my stories, I will tell you a third, -but it is prodigiously old, yet it is the only new trait -that I have found in that ocean <cite>Bibliothèque des Romans</cite>, -which I had almost abandoned; for I am out of -patience with novels and sermons, that have nothing -new, when the authors may say what they will without -contradiction.</p> - -<p>“My history is a romance of the Amours of Eleanor -of Aquitaine, Queen of our Henry the Second. She is -in love with somebody who is in love with somebody -else. She puts both in prison. The Count falls dangerously -ill, and sends for the Queen’s Physician. -Eleanor hears it, calls for the Physician, and gives -him a bowl, which she orders him to prescribe to the -Count. The Doctor hesitates, doubts, begs to know -the ingredients.—‘Come,’ says her Majesty, ‘your -suspicions are just—it is poison; but remember, it is a -crime I want from you, not a lecture; go and obey my -orders; my Captain of the guard and two soldiers -shall accompany you, and see that you execute my -command, and give no hint of my secret; go, I will -have no reply:’ the Physician submits, finds the prisoner -in bed, his mistress sitting by. The Doctor feels -his pulse, produces the bowl, sighs, and says, ‘My dear<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> -friend, I cannot cure your disorder, but I have a remedy -here for myself,’ and swallows the poison.</p> - -<p>“Is not this entirely new? it would be a fine <i lang="fr">coup de -théâtre</i>, and yet would not do for a tragedy, for the -Physician would become the hero of the piece, would -efface the lovers; and yet the rest of the play could not -be made to turn on him.</p> - -<p>“As all this will serve for a letter at any time, I will -keep the rest of my paper for something that will not -bear postponing.</p> - -<p class="right smaller">“20th.</p> - -<p>“Come, my letter shall go, though with only one -new paragraph. Lord Weymouth has resigned, as -well as Lord Gower. I believe that little faction -flattered themselves that their separation would blow -up Lord North, and yet I am persuaded that sheer -cowardice has most share in Weymouth’s part. There -is such universal dissatisfaction, that when the crack -is begun, the whole edifice perhaps may tumble, but -where is the architect that can repair a single story? -The nation stayed till everything was desperate, before -it would allow that a single tile was blown off.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>At the close of the year, he is cheered by the sight of -a precious relic:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“You are to know, Madam, that I have in my -custody the individual ebony cabinet in which Madame -de Sévigné kept her pens and paper for writing her -matchless letters. It was preserved near Grignan by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> -an old man who mended her pens, and whose descendant -gave it last year to Mr. Selwyn, as truly -worthy of such a sacred relic. It wears, indeed, all the -outward and visible signs of such venerable preciousness, -for it is clumsy, cumbersome, and shattered, and -inspires no more idea of her spirit and <i lang="fr">légèreté</i>, than the -mouldy thigh-bone of a saint does of the unction of his -sermons. I have full powers to have it repaired and -decorated as shall seem good in my own eyes, though I -had rather be authorised to inclose and conceal it in a -shrine of gold and jewels.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 650px;" id="illus4"> - -<img src="images/illus4.jpg" width="650" height="600" alt="" /> - -<p class="caption-credit"><i>Sir Joshua Reynolds. Pinx.</i> <span class="caption-center"><i>A. Dawson. Ph. Sc.</i></span> <i>Valentine Green. Sc.</i></p> - -<p class="caption-main"><i>The Three Ladies Waldegrave.</i></p> - -</div> - -<p>Towards the end of May, 1780, he writes: “Sir -Joshua has begun a charming picture of my three fair -nieces, the Waldegraves, and very like. They are -embroidering and winding silk; I rather wished to -have them drawn like the Graces, adorning a bust of -the Duchess as the Magna Mater; but my ideas are -not adopted.” We hear no more of this picture for -some time. Attention was almost immediately engrossed -by the Gordon riots. Walpole writes to Lady -Ossory:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Berkeley Square, June 3, 1780.</p> - -<p>“I know that a governor or gazetteer ought not to -desert their posts, if a town is besieged, or a town is -full of news; and therefore, Madam, I resume my -office. I smile to-day—but I trembled last night; for -an hour or more I never felt more anxiety. I knew the -bravest of my friends were barricaded into the House of -Commons, and every avenue to it impossible. Till I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> -heard the Horse and Foot Guards were gone to their -rescue, I expected nothing but some dire misfortune; -and the first thing I heard this morning was that part -of the town had had a fortunate escape from being -burnt after ten last night. You must not expect order, -Madam; I must recollect circumstances as they occur; -and the best idea I can give your Ladyship of the tumult -will be to relate it as I heard it.</p> - -<p>“I had come to town in the morning on a private -occasion, and found it so much as I left it, that though -I saw a few blue cockades here and there, I only took -them for new recruits. Nobody came in; between -seven and eight I saw a hack and another coach arrive -at Lord Shelburne’s, and thence concluded that Lord -George Gordon’s trumpet had brayed to no purpose. -At eight I went to Gloucester House; the Duchess told -me, there had been a riot, and that Lord Mansfield’s -glasses had been broken, and a bishop’s, but that most -of the populace were dispersed. About nine his Royal -Highness and Colonel Heywood arrived; and then we -heard a much more alarming account. The concourse -had been incredible, and had by no means obeyed the -injunctions of their apostle, or rather had interpreted -the spirit instead of the letter. The Duke had reached -the House with the utmost difficulty, and found it sunk -from the temple of dignity to an asylum of lamentable -objects. There were the Lords Hillsborough, Stormont, -Townshend, without their bags, and with their -hair dishevelled about their ears, and Lord Willoughby -without his periwig, and Lord Mansfield, whose glasses<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> -had been broken, quivering on the woolsack like an -aspen. Lord Ashburnham had been torn out of his -chariot, the Bishop of Lincoln ill-treated, the Duke of -Northumberland had lost his watch in the holy hurly-burly, -and Mr. Mackenzie his snuff-box and spectacles. -Alarm came that the mob had thrown down Lord -Boston, and were trampling him to death; which they -almost did. They had diswigged Lord Bathurst on his -answering them stoutly, and told him he was the pope, -and an old woman; thus splitting Pope Joan into two. -Lord Hillsborough, on being taxed with negligence, -affirmed that the Cabinet had the day before empowered -Lord North to take precautions; but two Justices that -were called denied having received any orders. Colonel -Heywood, a very stout man, and luckily a very cool -one, told me he had thrice been collared as he went by -the Duke’s order to inquire what was doing in the other -House; but though he was not suffered to pass, he -reasoned the mob into releasing him,—yet, he said, he -never saw so serious an appearance and such determined -countenances.</p> - -<p>“About eight the Lords adjourned, and were suffered -to go home; though the rioters declared that if the -other House did not repeal the Bill,<a name="FNanchor_79" id="FNanchor_79"></a><a href="#Footnote_79" class="fnanchor">[79]</a> there would at -night be terrible mischief. Mr. Burke’s name had been -given out as the object of resentment. General Conway -I knew would be intrepid and not give way; nor did -he, but inspired the other House with his own resolution.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> -Lord George Gordon was running backwards and forwards, -from the windows of the Speaker’s Chamber -denouncing all that spoke against him to the mob in -the lobby. Mr. Conway tasked him severely both in -the House and aside, and Colonel Murray told him he -was a disgrace to his family. Still the members were -besieged and locked up for four hours, nor could divide, -as the lobby was crammed. Mr. Conway and Lord -Frederick Cavendish, with whom I supped afterwards, -told me there was a moment when they thought they -must have opened the doors and fought their way out -sword in hand. Lord North was very firm, and at last -they got the Guards and cleared the pass.</p> - -<p>“Blue banners had been waved from tops of houses -at Whitehall as signals to the people, while the coaches -passed, whom they should applaud or abuse. Sir -George Savile’s and Charles Turner’s coaches were -demolished. Ellis, whom they took for a Popish -gentleman, they carried prisoner to the Guildhall in -Westminster, and he escaped by a ladder out of a -window. Lord Mahon harangued the people from -the balcony of a coffee-house, and begged them to -retire.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>In a letter to Mann he continues the story:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“This tumult, which was over between nine and ten -at night, had scarce ceased before it broke out in two -other quarters. Old Haslang’s<a name="FNanchor_80" id="FNanchor_80"></a><a href="#Footnote_80" class="fnanchor">[80]</a> chapel was broken -open and plundered; and, as he is a Prince of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> -Smugglers as well as Bavarian Minister, great quantities -of run tea and contraband goods were found in -his house. This one cannot lament; and still less, as -the old wretch has for these forty years usurped a hired -house, and, though the proprietor for many years has -offered to remit his arrears of rent, he will neither quit -the house nor pay for it.</p> - -<p>“Monsieur Cordon, the Sardinian Minister, suffered -still more. The mob forced his chapel, stole two silver -lamps, demolished everything else, threw the benches -into the street, set them on fire, carried the brands into -the chapel, and set fire to that; and, when the engines -came, would not suffer them to play, till the Guards -arrived, and saved the house and probably all that part -of the town. Poor Madame Cordon was confined by -illness. My cousin, Thomas Walpole, who lives in -Lincoln’s Inn Fields, went to her rescue, and dragged -her, for she could scarce stand with terror and weakness, -to his own house.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Of the events of Black Wednesday, Horace was an -eye-witness. His letters to his Countess form a sort of -journal:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Wednesday, five o’clock, June 7, 1780.</p> - -<p>“I am heartily glad I am come to town, though -never was a less delicious place; but there was no -bearing to remain philosophically in the country, and -hear the thousand rumours of every hour, and not -know whether one’s friends and relations were not -destroyed. Yesterday Newgate was burnt, and other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> -houses, and Lord Sandwich near massacred. At Hyde -Park Corner, I saw Guards at the Lord President’s -door, and in Piccadilly, met George Selwyn and the -Signorina,<a name="FNanchor_81" id="FNanchor_81"></a><a href="#Footnote_81" class="fnanchor">[81]</a> whom I wondered he ventured there. He -came into my chaise in a fury, and told me Lord Mansfield’s -house is in ashes, and that five thousand men -were marched to Caen Wood—it is true, and that one -thousand of the Guards are gone after them. A camp -of ten thousand is forming in Hyde Park as fast as -possible, and the Berkshire militia is just arrived. -Wedderburn and Lord Stormont are threatened, and -I do not know who. The Duchess of Beaufort sent an -hour ago to tell me Lord Ashburnham had just advertised -her that he is threatened, and was sending away -his poor bedridden Countess and children; and the -Duchess begged to know what I proposed to do. I -immediately went to her, and quieted her, and assured -her we are as safe as we can be anywhere, and as -little obnoxious; but if she was alarmed, I advised her -to remove to Notting Hill, where Lady Mary Coke is -absent. The Duchess said the mob were now in -Saville Row; we sent thither, and so they are, round -Colonel Woodford’s, who gave the Guards orders to fire -at Lord Mansfield’s, where six at least of the rioters -were killed.</p> - -<p>“The mob are now armed, having seized the stores -in the Artillery Ground.</p> - -<p>“If anything can surprise your Ladyship, it will be -what I am going to tell you. Lord George Gordon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> -went to Buckingham House this morning, and asked an -audience of the King. Can you be more surprised still?—He -was refused.</p> - -<p>“I must finish, for I am going about the town to -learn, and see, and hear. Caen Wood is saved; a -regiment on march met the rioters.</p> - -<p>“It will probably be a black night: I am decking -myself with blue ribbons, like a May-day garland. -Horsemen are riding by with muskets. I am sorry -I did not bring the armour of Francis I. to town, as I -am to guard a Duchess Dowager and an heiress. Will -it not be romantically generous if I yield the latter to -my nephew?</p> - -<p>“From my garrison in Berkeley Square.</p> - -<p class="right smaller">“Wednesday night, past two in the morning, June 7, 1780.</p> - -<p>“As it is impossible to go to bed (for Lady Betty -Compton has hoped I would not this very minute, -which, next to her asking the contrary, is the thing not -to be refused), I cannot be better employed than in -proving how much I think of your Ladyship at the -most horrible moment I ever saw. You shall judge.</p> - -<p>“I was at Gloucester House between nine and ten. -The servants announced a great fire; the Duchess, her -daughters, and I went to the top of the house, and -beheld not only one but two vast fires, which we took -for the King’s Bench and Lambeth; but the latter was -the New Prison, and the former at least was burning at -midnight. Colonel Heywood came in and acquainted -his Royal Highness that nine houses in Great Queen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> -Street had been gutted, and the furniture burnt; and -he had <em>seen</em> a great Catholic distiller’s at Holborn -Bridge broken open and all the casks staved; and -since, the house had been set on fire.</p> - -<p>“At ten I went to Lord Hertford’s, and found him -and his sons charging muskets. Lord Rockingham has -two hundred soldiers in his house, and is determined to -defend it. Thence I went to General Conway’s, and in -a moment a servant came in and said there was a great -fire just by. We went to the street-door and thought it -was St. Martin’s Lane in flames, but it is either the -Fleet Prison or the distiller’s. I forgot that in the -court of Gloucester House I met Colonel Jennings, who -told me there had been an engagement at the Royal -Exchange to defend the Bank, and that the Guards -had shot sixty of the mob; I have since heard seventy, -for I forgot to tell your Ladyship that at a <em>great</em> council, -held this evening at the Queen’s House, at which Lord -Rockingham and the Duke of Portland were present, -military execution was ordered, for, in truth, the Justices -dare not act.</p> - -<p>“After supper I returned to Lady Hertford, finding -Charing Cross, and the Haymarket, and Piccadilly, -illuminated from fear, though all this end of the town -is hitherto perfectly quiet, lines being drawn across the -Strand and Holborn, to prevent the mob coming westward. -Henry and William Conway arrived, and had -seen the populace break open the toll-houses on Blackfriars -Bridge, and carry off bushels of halfpence, which -fell about the streets, and then they set fire to the toll-houses.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> -General Conway’s porter had seen five distinct -conflagrations.</p> - -<p>“Lady Hertford’s cook came in, white as this paper. -<em>He is a German Protestant.</em> He said his house had been -attacked, his furniture burnt; that he had saved one -child, and left another with his wife, whom he could -not get out; and that not above ten or twelve persons -had assaulted his house. I could not credit this, at -least was sure it was an episode that had no connection -with the general insurrection, and was at most -some pique of his neighbours. I sent my own footman -to the spot in Woodstock Street; he brought me word -there had been eight or ten apprentices who made the -riot, that two Life Guardsmen had arrived and secured -four of the enemies. It seems the cook had refused to -illuminate like the rest of the street. To-morrow I -suppose his Majesty King George Gordon will order -their release; they will be inflated with having been -confessors, and turn heroes.</p> - -<p>“On coming home I visited the Duchess Dowager -and my fair ward; and am heartily tired with so many -expeditions, for which I little imagined I had youth -enough left.</p> - -<p>“We expect three or four more regiments to-morrow, -besides some troops of horse and militia already arrived. -We are menaced with counter-squadrons from the -country. There will, I fear, be much blood spilt before -peace is restored. The Gordon has already surpassed -Masaniello, who I do not remember set his own capital -on fire. Yet I assure your ladyship there is no panic.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> -Lady Aylesbury has been at the play in the Haymarket, -and the Duke and my four nieces at Ranelagh, this -evening. For my part, I think the <em>common</em> diversions -of these last four-and-twenty hours are sufficient to -content any moderate appetite; and as it is now three -in the morning, I shall wish you good night, and try -to get a little sleep myself, if Lord George Macbeth -has not murdered it all. I own I shall not soon -forget the sight I saw from the top of Gloucester -House.</p> - -<p class="right smaller">“Thursday morning, after breakfast.</p> - -<p>“I do not know whether to call the horrors of the -night greater or less than I thought. My printer, who -has been out all night, and on the spots of action, says, -not above a dozen were killed at the Royal Exchange, -some few elsewhere; at the King’s Bench, he does not -know how many; but in other respects the calamities -are dreadful. He saw many houses set on fire, women -and children screaming, running out of doors with what -they could save, and knocking one another down with -their loads in the confusion. Barnard’s Inn is burnt, -and some houses, mistaken for Catholic. Kirgate<a name="FNanchor_82" id="FNanchor_82"></a><a href="#Footnote_82" class="fnanchor">[82]</a> says -most of the rioters are apprentices, and plunder and -drink have been their chief objects, and both women -and men are still lying dead drunk about the streets: -brandy is preferable to enthusiasm. I trust many more -troops will arrive to-day. What families ruined! What -wretched wives and mothers! What public disgrace!—ay! -and where, and when, and how will all this confusion<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> -end! and what shall we be when it is concluded? -I remember the Excise and the Gin Act, and the -rebels at Derby, and Wilkes’s interlude, and the French -at Plymouth; or I should have a very bad memory; -but I never till last night saw London and Southwark -in flames!</p> - -<p class="right smaller">“After dinner.</p> - -<p>“It is a moment, Madam, when to be surprised is -not surprising. But what will you say to the House of -Commons meeting by twelve o’clock to-day, and adjourning, -ere fifty members were arrived, to Monday -se’nnight! So adieu all government but the sword!</p> - -<p>“Will your Ladyship give me credit when I heap -contradictions on absurdities—will you believe such -confusion and calamities, and yet think there is no consternation? -Well, only hear. My niece, Mrs. Keppel, -with her three daughters, drove since noon over Westminster -Bridge, through St. George’s Fields, where the -King’s Bench is smoking, over London Bridge, passed -the Bank, and came the whole length of the City! -They have been here, and say the people <em>look</em> very -unquiet; but can one imagine that they would be -smiling? Old Lady Albemarle, who followed me in a -few minutes from Gloucester House, was robbed at -Mrs. Keppel’s door in Pall Mall, between ten and -eleven, by a horseman. Sparrow, one of the delivered -convicts, who was to have been hanged this morning, -is said to have been shot yesterday as he was spiriting -up the rioters. Kirgate has just heard in the Park, that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> -the Protestant Association disavow the seditious, and -will take up arms against them. If we are saved, it will -be so as by fire.</p> - -<p>“I shall return to my own castle to-morrow: I had -not above four hours’ sleep last night, and must get -some rest. General Conway is enraged at the adjournment, -and will go away too. Many coaches and chaises -did leave London yesterday. My intelligence will not -be so good nor so immediate; but you will not want -correspondents. Disturbances are threatened again -for to-night; and some probably will happen, but -there are more troops, and less alacrity in the outlaws.</p> - -<p class="right smaller">“Berkeley Square, June 9, at noon, 1780.</p> - -<p>“All has been quiet to-night, as far as we know in -this region; but not without blood being spilt yesterday. -The rioters attacked the Horse Guards about six -in Fleet Street, and, not giving them time to load, were -repelled by the bayonet. Twenty fell, thirty-five were -wounded and sent to the hospital, where two died -directly. Three of the Guards were wounded, and a -young officer named Marjoribank. Mr. Conway’s footman -told me he was on a message at Lord Amherst’s -when the Guards returned, and that their bayonets -were steeped in blood.</p> - -<p>“I heard, too, at my neighbour Duchess’s, whither I -went at one in the morning, that the Protestant Associators, -disguised with blue cockades as friends, had -fallen on the rioters in St. George’s Fields, and killed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> -many. I do not warrant the truth, but I did hear often -in the evening that there had been slaughter in the -Borough, where a great public-house had been destroyed, -and a house at Redriffe, and another at -Islington. Zeal has entirely thrown off the mask, and -owned its name—plunder. Its offspring have extorted -money from several houses with threats of firing them -as Catholic. Apprentices and Irish chairmen, and all -kinds of outlaws, have been the most active. Some -hundreds are actually dead about the streets, with the -spirits they plundered at the distiller’s; the low women -knelt and sucked them as they ran from the staved -casks.</p> - -<p>“It was reported last night that the primate, George -Gordon, is fled to Scotland: for aught I know he may -not be so far off as Grosvenor Place. All is rumour -and exaggeration; and yet it would be difficult to -exaggerate the horrors of Wednesday night; a town -taken by storm could alone exceed them.</p> - -<p>“I am going to Strawberry this instant, exhausted -with fatigue, for I have certainly been on my feet longer -these last eight-and-forty hours than in forty days -before.…</p> - -<p>“Adieu! Madam; allow my pen a few holidays, -unless the storm recommences.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>On hearing that Lord George Gordon had been -arrested, he writes again:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Strawberry Hill, Saturday night, late.</p> - -<p>“Was not I cruelly out of luck, Madam, to have been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> -fishing in troubled waters for two days for your Ladyship’s -entertainment, and to have come away very few -hours before the great pike was hooked? Well, to drop -metaphor, here are Garth’s lines reversed,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">‘Thus little villains oft submit to fate,</div> -<div class="verse">That great ones may enjoy the world in state.’</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Four convicts on the eve of execution are let loose -from Newgate, and Lord George Gordon is sent to the -Tower. If he is hanged, the old couplet will recover -its credit, for Mr. Wedderburn is Chief Justice.</p> - -<p>“I flatter myself I shall receive a line from your -Ladyship to-morrow morning: I am impatient to hear -what you think of <em>black Wednesday</em>. I know how much -you must have been shocked, but I long to read your -own expressions; when you answer, then one is conversing. -My sensations are very different from what -they were. While in the thick of the conflagration, I -was all indignation and a thousand passions. Last -night, when sitting silently alone, horror rose as I -cooled; and grief succeeded, and then all kinds of -gloomy presages. For some time people have said, -where will all this end? I as often replied, where will -it begin? It is now begun, with a dreadful overture; -and I tremble to think what the chorus may be! The -sword reigns at present, and saved the capital! What -is to depose the sword?—Is it not to be feared, on the -other hand, that other swords may be lifted up?—What -probability that everything will subside quietly into the -natural channel?—Nay, how narrow will that channel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> -be, whenever the prospect is cleared by peace? What -a dismal fragment of an empire! yet would that moment -were come when we are to take a survey of our ruins! -That moment I probably shall not see. When I rose -this morning, I found the exertions I had made with -such puny powers, had been far beyond what I could -bear; I was too sick to go on with dressing myself. -This evening I have been abroad, and you shall hear no -more of it. I have been with Lady Di, at Richmond, -where I found Lady Pembroke, Miss Herbert, and Mr. -Brudenell. Lord Herbert is arrived. They told me the -melancholy position of Lady Westmorland. She is -sister of Lord George Gordon, and wife of Colonel -Woodford, who is forced to conceal himself, having -been the first officer who gave orders to the soldiers to -fire, on the attack of Lord Mansfield’s house. How -many still more deplorable calamities from the tragedy -of this week that one shall never hear of! I will change -my style, and, like an epilogue after a moving piece, -divert you with a <i lang="fr">bon-mot</i> of George Selwyn. He came -to me yesterday morning from Lady Townshend, who, -terrified by the fires of the preceding night, talked the -language of the Court, instead of Opposition. He said -she put him in mind of removed tradesmen, who hang -out a board with, ‘Burnt out from over the way.’ -Good-night, Madam, till I receive your letter.</p> - -<p class="right smaller">“Monday morning, the 12th.</p> - -<p>“Disappointed! disappointed! not a line from your -Ladyship; I will not send away this till I hear from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> -you. Last night, at Hampton Court, I heard of two -Popish chapels demolished at Bath, and one at Bristol. -My coachman has just been in Twickenham, and says -half Bath is burnt; I trust this is but the natural progress -of lies, that increase like a chairman’s legs by -walking. Mercy on us! we seem to be plunging into -the horrors of France, in the reigns of Charles VI. and -VII.!—yet, as extremes meet, there is at this moment -amazing insensibility. Within these four days I have -received five applications for tickets to see my house! -One from a set of company who fled from town to avoid -the tumults and fires. I suppose Æneas lost Creüsa by -her stopping at Sadlers’ Wells.</p> - -<p class="right smaller">“13th.</p> - -<p>“The letter I have this moment received is so kind, -Madam, that it effaces all disappointment. Indeed, my -impatience made me forget that no post comes in here -on Mondays. To-day’s letters from town mention no -disturbance at Bristol or anywhere else. Every day -gained is considerable, at least will be so when there has -been time for the history of last week to have spread, -and intelligence from the distant counties to be returned. -All I have heard to-day is of some alteration to be -made to the Riot Act, that Lord George cannot be -tried this month, and that the King will go to the -House on Monday. I will now answer what is necessary -in your Ladyship’s and take my leave, for, as you -observe, the post arrives late, and I have other letters -that I must answer. Mr. Williams interrupted me, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> -has added a curious anecdote,—and a horrible one, to -my collection of the late events. One project of the -diabolical incendiaries was to let loose the lions in the -Tower, and the lunatics in Bedlam. The latter might -be from a fellow-feeling in Lord George, but cannibals -do not invite wild beasts to their banquets. The -Princess Daskiou will certainly communicate the -thought to her mistress and accomplice, the Legislatress -of Russia.</p> - -<p>“P.S. I like an ironic sentence in yesterday’s <cite>London -Courant</cite>, which says, all our grievances are <em>red-dressed</em>.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>To complete the misfortunes of these years, Walpole -lost his “blind old woman” in the autumn of 1780. -Under date October 9th, he writes from Strawberry -Hill to Mann:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“I have heard from Paris of the death of my dear -old friend Madame du Deffand, whom I went so often -thither to see. It was not quite unexpected, and was -softened by her great age, eighty-four, which forbad -distant hopes; and, by what I dreaded more than her -death, her increasing deafness, which, had it become, -like her blindness, total, would have been living after -death. Her memory only <em>began</em> to impair; her amazing -sense and quickness, not at all. I have written to her -once a week for these last fifteen years, as correspondence -and conversation could be her only pleasures. -You see that I am the most faithful letter-writer in the -world—and, alas! never see those I am so constant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> -to! One is forbidden common-place reflections on -these misfortunes, because they <em>are</em> common-place; but -is not that, because they are natural? But your never -having known that dear old woman is a better reason -for not making you the butt of my concern.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Three weeks later we have the following from London -to Lady Ossory:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“As I have been returned above a fortnight, I should -have written had I had a syllable to tell you; but what -could I tell you from that melancholy and very small -circle at Twickenham Park, almost the only place I do -go to in the country, partly out of charity, and partly as -I have scarce any other society left which I prefer to it; -for, without entering on too melancholy a detail, recollect, -Madam, that I have outlived most of those to -whom I was habituated, Lady Hervey, Lady Suffolk, -Lady Blandford—my dear old friend [Madame du -Deffand], I should probably never have seen again—yet -that is a deeper loss, indeed! She has left me all -her MSS.—a compact between us—in one word I had, -at her earnest request, consented to accept them, on -condition she should leave me nothing else. She had, -indeed, intended to leave me her little all, but I declared -I would never set foot in Paris again (this was ten years -ago) if she did not engage to retract that destination. -To satisfy her, I at last agreed to accept her papers, -and one thin gold box with the portrait of her dog. I -have written to beg her dog itself, which is so cross, that I -am sure nobody else would treat it well; and I have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> -ordered her own servant, who read all letters to her, -to pick out all the letters of living persons, and -restore them to the several writers without my seeing -them.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Walpole’s liking for accomplished French women like -Madame du Deffand was equalled by his dislike of the -English “Blue-stockings.” At the beginning of 1781, he -seems to have been a good deal in company with the -latter, and we have some amusing passages: “I met -Mrs. Montagu t’other night at a visit. She said she -had been alone the whole preceding day, <em>quite hermetically -sealed</em>—I was very glad she was uncorked, or I -might have missed that piece of learned nonsense.… -I was much diverted with your setting Mrs. Montagu -on her head, which indeed she does herself without the -help of Hermes. She is one of my principal entertainments -at Mrs. Vesey’s, who collects all the graduates -and candidates for fame, where they vie with one -another, till they are as unintelligible as the good folks -at Babel.”</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“Mr. Gilpin<a name="FNanchor_83" id="FNanchor_83"></a><a href="#Footnote_83" class="fnanchor">[83]</a> talks of my researches, which makes me -smile; I know, as Gray would have said, how little I -have <em>researched</em>, and what slender pretensions are mine -to so pompous a term. Apropos to Gray, Johnson’s -‘Life,’ or rather criticism on his Odes, is come out; a -most wretched, dull, tasteless, <em>verbal</em> criticism—yet, -timid too. But he makes amends, he admires Thomson<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> -and Akenside, and Sir Richard Blackmore, and has -reprinted Dennis’s ‘Criticism on Cato,’ to save time, -and swell his pay. In short, as usual, he has proved -that he has no more ear than taste. Mrs. Montagu and -all her Mænades intend to tear him limb from limb for -despising their moppet Lord Lyttelton.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“I saw Dr. Johnson last night at Lady Lucan’s, who -had assembled a <em>blue-stocking</em> meeting in imitation of -Mrs. Vesey’s Babels. It was so blue, it was quite -Mazarine-blue. Mrs. Montagu kept aloof from Johnson, -like the West from the East. There were Soame -Jenyns, <em>Persian</em> Jones, Mr. Sherlocke, the new court -with Mr. Courtenay, besides the out-pensioners of -Parnassus. Mr. Wraxall<a name="FNanchor_84" id="FNanchor_84"></a><a href="#Footnote_84" class="fnanchor">[84]</a> was not, I wonder why, and -so will he, for he is popping into every spot where he can -make himself talked of, by talking of himself; but I -hear he will come to an untimely beginning in the House -of Commons.”</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</h2> - -<div class="summary"> - -<p>Walpole in his Sixty-fourth Year.—The Royal Academy.—Tonton.—Charles -Fox.—William Pitt.—Mrs. Hobart’s <i lang="fr">Sans Souci</i>.—Improvements -at Florence.—Walpole’s Dancing Feats.—No -Feathers at Court.—Highwaymen.—Loss of the <i>Royal George</i>.—Mrs. -Siddons.—Peace.—Its Social Consequences.—The Coalition.—The -Rivals.—Political Excitement.—The Westminster -Election.—Political Caricatures.—Conway’s Retirement.—Lady -Harrington.—Balloons.—Illness.—Recovery.</p> - -</div> - -<p>“I never remonstrate against the behests of Dame -Prudence, though a lady I never got acquainted with -till near my grand climacteric.” So wrote Horace soon -after passing the mystic period, compounded of seven -and nine, which was once regarded as the topmost -round in the ladder of human life. He would have his -correspondents believe that his attention to the dame’s -commands was not very regular at first. In the spring -of 1781, he is able to report to Conway, “My health is -most flourishing for me.” Accordingly, he goes about a -good deal, and enjoys a sort of rejuvenescence. Of -course, he visits the Exhibition of the Royal Academy -at Somerset House, where Reynolds’s picture of the -Ladies Waldegrave was shown. “The Exhibition,” he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> -writes to Mason, “is much inferior to last year’s;<a name="FNanchor_85" id="FNanchor_85"></a><a href="#Footnote_85" class="fnanchor">[85]</a> -nobody shines there but Sir Joshua and Gainsborough. -The head of the former’s Dido is very fine; I do not -admire the rest of the piece. His Lord Richard Cavendish -is bold and stronger than he ever coloured. The -picture of my three nieces is charming. Gainsborough -has two pieces with land and sea, so free and natural -that one steps back for fear of being splashed. The -back front of the Academy is handsome, but like the -other to the street, the members are so heavy, that one -cannot stand back enough to see it in any proportion, -unless in a barge moored in the middle of the Thames.” -The same day, May 6, he writes to Conway from Strawberry -Hill:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“Though it is a bitter north-east, I came hither to-day -to look at my lilacs, though <i lang="fr">à la glace</i>; and to get -from pharaoh, for which there is a rage. I doated on -it above thirty years ago; but it is not decent to sit up -all night now with boys and girls. My nephew, Lord -Cholmondeley, the banker <i lang="fr">à la mode</i>, has been demolished. -He and his associate, Sir Willoughby -Aston, went early t’other night to Brooks’s, before -Charles Fox and Fitzpatrick, who keep a bank there, -were come; but they soon arrived, attacked their -rivals, broke their bank, and won above four thousand -pounds. ‘There,’ said Fox, ‘so should all usurpers be -served!’ He did still better; for he sent for his tradesmen, -and paid as far as the money would go. In the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> -mornings he continues his war on Lord North, but -cannot break <em>that</em> bank.…</p> - -<p>“I told you in my last that Tonton was arrived. I -brought him this morning to take possession of his new -villa, but his inauguration has not been at all pacific. -As he has already found out that he may be as despotic -as at St. Joseph’s, he began with exiling my beautiful -little cat; upon which, however, we shall not quite -agree. He then flew at one of my dogs, who returned -it by biting his foot till it bled, but was severely beaten -for it. I immediately rung for Margaret to dress his -foot; but in the midst of my tribulation could not -keep my countenance; for she cried, ‘Poor little thing, -he does not understand my language!’ I hope she will -not recollect, too, that he is a Papist!”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 490px;" id="illus5"> - -<img src="images/illus5.jpg" width="490" height="600" alt="" /> - -<p class="caption-credit"><i>Sir Joshua Reynolds. Pinx.</i> <span class="caption-center"><i>A. Dawson. Ph. Sc.</i></span> <i>S. W. Reynolds. Sc.</i></p> - -<p class="caption-main"><i>Sir Joshua Reynolds.</i></p> - -</div> - -<p>We have a further anecdote of Charles Fox told a -few days later, also in a letter to Conway:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“I had been to see if Lady Aylesbury was come to -town: as I came up St. James’s Street, I saw a cart -and porters at Charles’s door; coppers and old chests -of drawers loading. In short, his success at faro has -awakened his host of creditors; but unless his bank has -swelled to the size of the Bank of England, it could not -have yielded a sop apiece for each. Epsom, too, had -been unpropitious; and one creditor has actually -seized and carried off his goods, which did not seem -worth removing. As I returned full of this scene, whom -should I find sauntering by my own door but Charles? -He came up, and talked to me at the coach-window on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> -the Marriage Bill,<a name="FNanchor_86" id="FNanchor_86"></a><a href="#Footnote_86" class="fnanchor">[86]</a> with as much <i lang="fr">sang-froid</i> as if he -knew nothing of what had happened. I have no admiration -for insensibility to one’s own faults, especially -when committed out of vanity. Perhaps the whole -philosophy consisted in the commission. If <em>you</em> could -have been as much to blame, the last thing you would -bear well would be your own reflections. The more -marvellous Fox’s parts are, the more one is provoked at -his follies, which comfort so many rascals and blockheads, -and make all that is admirable and amiable in -him only matter of regret to those who like him as I do.<a name="FNanchor_87" id="FNanchor_87"></a><a href="#Footnote_87" class="fnanchor">[87]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I did intend to settle at Strawberry on Sunday; but -must return on Thursday, for a party made at Marlborough -House for Princess Amelia. I am continually -tempted to retire entirely; and should, if I did not see -how very unfit English tempers are for living quite out -of the world. We grow abominably peevish and severe -on others, if we are not constantly rubbed against and -polished by them. I need not name friends and relations -of yours and mine as instances. My prophecy on -the short reign of faro is verified already. The bankers -find that all the calculated advantages of the game do -not balance pinchbeck <i lang="fr">parolis</i> and debts of honourable -women. The bankers, I think, might have had a previous -and more generous reason, the very bad air of -holding a bank:—but this country is as hardened -against the <i lang="fr">petite morale</i>, as against the greater.—What -should I think of the world if I quitted it -entirely?”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Again a few days, and we come upon an early -mention of the youthful William Pitt: “The young -William Pitt has again displayed paternal oratory. -The other day, on the Commission of Accounts, he -answered Lord North, and tore him limb from limb. -If Charles Fox could feel, one should think such a -rival, with an unspotted character, would rouse him. -What if a Pitt and Fox should again be rivals!” Some -time later, Walpole asks Lady Ossory: “Apropos of -<i lang="fr">bon-mots</i>, has our lord told you that George Selwyn -calls Mr. Fox and Mr. Pitt ‘the idle and the industrious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> -apprentices’? If he has not, I am sure you will thank -me, Madam.”</p> - -<p>In the summer of 1781, Horace has a touch of -rheumatism, but still he keeps up his juvenile tone. -Witness the two following letters to Lady Ossory:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Strawberry Hill, July 7, 1781.</p> - -<p>“You must be, or will be, tired of my letters, Madam; -every one is a contradiction to the last; there is alternately -a layer of complaints, and a layer of foolish -spirits. To-day the wind is again in the dolorous -corner. For these four days I have been confined -with a pain and swelling in my face. The apothecary -says it is owing to the long drought; but as I should -not eat grass were there ever such plenty, and as my -cows, though starving, have no swelled cheeks, I do not -believe him. I humbly attribute my frequent disorders -to my longevity, and to that Proteus the gout, who is -not the less himself for being incog. Excuses I have -worn out, and, therefore, will not make any for not -obeying your kind invitation again to Ampthill. I can -only say, I go nowhere, even when Tonton is invited—except -to balls—and yet though I am the last Vestris -that has appeared, Mrs. Hobart did not invite me to -her <i lang="fr">Sans Souci</i> last week, though she had all my other -juvenile contemporaries, Lady Berkeley, Lady Fitzroy, -Lady Margaret Compton, and Mrs. French, etc. Perhaps -you do not know that the lady of the <i lang="fr">fête</i>, having -made as many conquests as the King of Prussia, has -borrowed the name of that hero’s villa for her hut on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> -Ham Common, where she has built two large rooms of -timber under a cabbage. Her field officers, General -French, General Compton, etc., were sweltered in the -ball-room, and then frozen at supper in tents on the -grass. She herself, as intrepid as King Frederic, led -the ball, though dying of the toothache, which she had -endeavoured to drown in laudanum; but she has kept -her bed ever since the campaign ended.</p> - -<p>“This is all I know in the world, for the war -seems to have taken laudanum too, and to keep its bed.</p> - -<p>“I have received a letter to-day from Sir Horace -Mann, who tells me the Great-Duke has been making -<em>wondrous improvements</em> at Florence. He has made a -passage through the Tribune, and built a brave new -French room of stucco in white and gold, and placed -the Niobe in it; but as everybody is tired of her telling -her old story, she and all the Master and Miss Niobes -are orderly disposed round the chamber, and if anybody -asks who they are, I suppose they answer, Francis -Charles Ferdinand Ignatius Neopomucenus, or Maria -Theresa Christina Beatrice, etc. Well, Madam, have -I any cause to sigh that the pictures at Houghton are -transported to the North Pole, if the Tribune at Florence -is demolished by Vandals, and Niobe and her -progeny dance a <i lang="fr">cotillon</i>? O sublunary grandeur, short-lived -as a butterfly! We smile at a clown who graves the -initials of his name, or the shape of his shoe, on the -leads of a church, in hopes of being remembered, and -yet he is as much known as king I don’t know whom, -who built the Pyramids to eternise his memory. Methinks<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> -Anacreon was the only sensible philosopher. If -I loved wine, and should look well in a chaplet of roses, -I would crown myself with flowers, and go tipsy to bed -every night <i lang="fr">sans souci</i>.</p> - -<p class="right smaller">“July 25, 1781.</p> - -<p>“Poor human nature, what a contradiction it is! to-day -it is all rheumatism and morality, and sits with a -death’s head before it: to-morrow it is dancing!—Oh! -my Lady, my Lady, what will you say, when the next -thing you hear of me after my last letter is, that I have -danced three country-dances with a whole set, forty -years younger than myself! Shall not you think I have -been chopped to shreds and boiled in Medea’s kettle? -Shall not you expect to see a print of Vestris teaching -me?—and Lord Brudenell dying with envy? You may -stare with all your expressive eyes, yet the fact is true. -Danced—I do not absolutely say, <em>danced</em>—but I swam -down three dances very gracefully, with the air that was -so much in fashion after the battle of Oudenarde, and -that was still taught when I was fifteen, and that I -remember General Churchill practising before a glass in -a gouty shoe.</p> - -<p>“To be sure you die with impatience to know the -particulars. You must know then—for all my revels -must out—I not only went five miles to Lady Aylesford’s -ball last Friday, but my nieces, the Waldegraves, -desired me there to let them come to me for a few days, -as they had been disappointed about a visit they were -to make at another place; but that is neither here nor -there. Well, here they are, and last night we went to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> -Lady Hertford at Ditton. Soon after, Lady North and -her daughters arrived, and besides Lady Elizabeth and -Lady Bell Conways, there were their brothers Hugh -and George. All the <i lang="fr">jeunesse</i> strolled about the garden. -We ancients, with the Earl and Colonel Keene, retired -from the dew into the drawing-room. Soon after, the -two youths and seven nymphs came in, and shut the -door of the hall. In a moment, we heard a burst of -laughter, and thought we distinguished something like -the scraping of a fiddle. My curiosity was raised, I -opened the door, and found four couples and a half -standing up, and a miserable violin from the ale-house. -‘Oh,’ said I, ‘Lady Bell shall not want a partner;’ I -threw away my stick, and <i lang="fr">me voilà dansant comme un -charme</i>! At the end of the third dance, Lord North -and his son, in boots, arrived. ‘Come,’ said I, ‘my -Lord, you may dance, if I have’—but it ended in my -<em>resigning my place</em> to his son.</p> - -<p>“Lady North has invited us for to-morrow, and I -shall reserve the rest of my letter for the second volume -of my regeneration; however, I declare I will not <em>dance</em>. -I will not make myself too cheap; I should have the -Prince of Wales sending for me three or four times a -week to hops in Eastcheap. As it is, I feel I shall have -some difficulty to return to my old dowagers, at the -Duchess of Montrose’s, and shall be humming the -Hempdressers, when they are scolding me for playing -in flush.</p> - -<p class="right smaller">“Friday, the 27th.</p> - -<p>“I am not only a prophet, but have more command<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> -of my passions than such impetuous gentry as prophets -are apt to have. We found the fiddles as I foretold; -and yet I kept my resolution and did <em>not</em> dance, though -the Sirens invited me, and though it would have shocked -the dignity of old Tiffany Ellis, who would have thought -it an indecorum. The two younger Norths and Sir -Ralph Payne supplied my place. I played at cribbage -with the matrons, and we came away at midnight. -So if I now and then do cut a colt’s tooth, I have -it drawn immediately. I do not know a paragraph -of news—the nearer the minister, the farther from -politics.</p> - -<p>“P.S. My next jubilee dancing shall be with Lady -Gertrude.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Not long after the date of these letters, Mann sends -news of further improvements at Florence. Walpole -answers:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“The decree<a name="FNanchor_88" id="FNanchor_88"></a><a href="#Footnote_88" class="fnanchor">[88]</a> you sent me against high heads diverted -me. It is as necessary here, but would not have such -expeditious effect. The Queen has never admitted -feathers at Court; but, though the nation has grown -excellent courtiers, Fashion remained in opposition, -and not a plume less was worn anywhere else. Some -centuries ago, the Clergy preached against monstrous -head-dresses; but Religion had no more power than -our Queen. It is better to leave the Mode to its own -vagaries; if she is not contradicted, she seldom remains -long in the same mood. She is very despotic; but,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> -though her reign is endless, her laws are repealed as -fast as made.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>The frequency of highway robberies only a century -ago sounds surprising to the present generation. -Horace recounts to Lady Ossory an adventure of this -kind which befell him and his friend and neighbour, -Lady Browne, in the autumn of this jovial 1781:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“The night I had the honour of writing to your Ladyship -last, I was robbed—and, as if I were a sovereign -or a nation, have had a discussion ever since whether it -was not a <em>neighbour</em> who robbed me—and should it -come to the ears of the newspapers, it might produce -as ingenious a controversy amongst our anonymous wits -as any of the noble topics I have been mentioning. -<i lang="fr">Voici le fait.</i> Lady Browne and I were, as usual, going -to the Duchess of Montrose at seven o’clock. The -evening was very dark. In the close lane under her -park-pale, and within twenty yards of the gate, a black -figure on horseback pushed by between the chaise and -the hedge on my side. I suspected it was a highwayman, -and so I found did Lady Browne, for she was -speaking and stopped. To divert her fears, I was just -going to say, Is not that the apothecary going to the -Duchess? when I heard a voice cry ‘Stop!’ and the -figure came back to the chaise. I had the presence of -mind, before I let down the glass, to take out my watch -and stuff it within my waistcoat under my arm. He -said, ‘Your purses and watches!’ I replied, ‘I have -no watch.’ ‘Then your purse!’ I gave it to him; it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> -had nine guineas. It was so dark that I could not see -his hand, but felt him take it. He then asked for Lady -Browne’s purse, and said, ‘Don’t be frightened; I will -not hurt you.’ I said, ‘No; you won’t frighten the -lady?’ He replied, ‘No; I give you my word I will do -you no hurt.’ Lady Browne gave him her purse, and -was going to add her watch, but he said, ‘I am much -obliged to you! I wish you good-night!’ pulled off his -hat, and rode away. ‘Well,’ said I, ‘Lady Browne, -you will not be afraid of being robbed another time, for -you see there is nothing in it.’ ‘Oh! but I am,’ said -she, ‘and now I am in terrors lest he should return, for -I have given him a purse with only bad money that I -carry on purpose.’ ‘He certainly will not open it -directly,’ said I, ‘and at worst he can only wait for us -at our return; but I will send my servant back for a -horse and a blunderbuss,’ which I did. The next distress -was not to terrify the Duchess, who is so paralytic -and nervous. I therefore made Lady Browne go into -the parlour, and desired one of the Duchess’s servants -to get her a glass of water, while I went into the -drawing-room to break it to the Duchess. ‘Well,’ said I, -laughing to her and the rest of the company, ‘you won’t -get much from us to-night.’ ‘Why,’ said one of them, -‘have you been robbed?’ ‘Yes, a little,’ said I. The -Duchess trembled; but it went off. Her groom of the -chambers said not a word, but slipped out, and Lady -Margaret and Miss Howe having servants there on -horseback, he gave them pistols and despatched them -different ways. This was exceedingly clever, for he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> -knew the Duchess would not have suffered it, as lately -he had detected a man who had robbed her garden, and -she would not allow him to take up the fellow. These -servants spread the story, and when my footman -arrived on foot, he was stopped in the street by the -ostler of the ‘George,’ who told him the highwayman’s -horse was then in the stable; but this part I must -reserve for the second volume, for I have made this no -story so long and so tedious that your Ladyship will -not be able to read it in a breath; and the second part -is so much longer and so much less, contains so many -examinations of witnesses, so many contradictions in -the depositions, which I have taken myself, and, I must -confess, with such abilities and shrewdness that I have -found out nothing at all, that I think to defer the -prosecution of my narrative till all the other inquisitions -on the anvil are liquidated, lest your Ladyship’s -head, strong as it is, should be confounded, and you -should imagine that Rodney or Ferguson was the -person who robbed us in Twickenham Lane. I would -not have detailed the story at all, if you were not in a -forest, where it will serve to put you to sleep as well as -a newspaper full of lies; and I am sure there is as much -dignity in it as in the combined fleet, and ours, popping -in and out alternately, like a man and woman in a -weather-house.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>A few months later he writes to his Countess:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Strawberry Hill, Aug. 31, 1782.</p> - -<p>“It is very strange indeed, Madam, that you should -make me excuses for writing, or think that I have anything<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> -better, or even more urgent, to do than to read -your letters. It is very true that the Duchess de la -Vallière, in a hand which I could not decypher, has -recommended Count Soltikoff and his wife to me: but, -oh! my shame, I have not yet seen them. I did mean -to go to town to-day on purpose, but I have had the -gout in my right eyelid, and it was swelled yesterday as -big as a walnut; being now shrunk to less than a pistachio, -I propose in two or three days to make my -appearance. Luckily the Countess was born in England, -the daughter of the former Czernichew, and she is -in such terrors of highwaymen, that I shall be quit for -a breakfast; so it is an ill highwayman that blows -nobody good. In truth, it would be impossible, in this -region, to amass a set of company for dinner to meet -them. The Hertfords, Lady Holdernesse, and Lady -Mary Coke did dine here on Thursday, but were armed -as if going to Gibraltar; and Lady Cecilia Johnston -would not venture even from Petersham—for in the -town of Richmond they rob even before dusk—to such -perfection are all the arts brought! Who would have -thought that the war with America would make it -impossible to stir from one village to another? yet so it -literally is. The Colonies took off all our commodities -down to highwaymen. Now being forced to mew, and -then turn them out, like pheasants, the roads are stocked -with them, and they are so tame that they even come -into houses.</p> - -<p>“I have just been reading a most entertaining book, -which I will recommend to you, as you are grown antiquaries:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> -I don’t know whether it is published yet, for -the author sent it to me. Part was published some -time ago in the ‘Archæologia,’ and is almost the only -paper in that mass of rubbish that has a grain of -common sense. It is ‘Mr. E. King on ancient Castles.’ -You will see how comfortably and delectably our potent -ancestors lived, when in the constant state of war to -which we are coming. Earls, barons, and their fair -helpmates lived pell-mell in dark dungeons with their -own soldiers, as the poorest cottagers do now with their -pigs. I shall repent decking Strawberry so much, if I -must turn it into a garrison.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Vernon was your Ladyship’s informant about -the Soltikoffs; but he gave me more credit for my -intended civilities than I deserved. The French do -not conceive, when they address strangers to us, that we -do not at all live in their style. It is no trouble to -them, who have miscellaneous dinners or suppers, to -ask one or two more; nor are they at any expense in -language, as everybody speaks French. In the private -way in which I live, it is troublesome to give a formal -dinner to foreigners, and more so to find company for -them in a circle of dowagers, who would only jabber -English scandal out of the <cite>Morning Post</cite>.…</p> - -<p>“Just this moment I hear the shocking loss of the -<i>Royal George</i>! Admiral Kempenfelt is a loss indeed; -but I confess I feel more for the hundreds of poor babes -who have lost their parents! If one grows ever so -indifferent, some new calamity calls one back to this -deplorable war! If one is willing to content one’s self,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> -in a soaking autumn, with a match broken, or with the -death of a Prince Duodecimus, a clap of thunder -awakens one, and one hears that Britain herself has -lost an arm or a leg. I have been expecting a deluge, -and a famine, and such casualties as enrich a Sir -Richard Baker; but we have all King David’s options -at once! and what was his option before he was -anointed, freebooting too?</p> - -<p>“Drowned as we are, the country never was in such -beauty; the herbage and leafage are luxurious. The -Thames gives itself Rhone airs, and almost foams; it is -none of your home-brewed rivers that Mr. Brown makes -with a spade and a watering-pot. Apropos, Mr. Duane,<a name="FNanchor_89" id="FNanchor_89"></a><a href="#Footnote_89" class="fnanchor">[89]</a> -like a good housewife, in the middle of his grass-plot, has -planted a pump and a watering-trough for his cow, and -I suppose on Saturdays dries his towels and neckcloths -on his orange-trees; but I must have done, or the post -will be gone.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>At the end of 1782, Mrs. Siddons was the talk of the -town. Prejudiced as Walpole was apt to be in his -judgments of actors, as of authors, his impressions of -this famous actress will be read with interest:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“I have been for two days in town, and seen Mrs. -Siddons. She pleased me beyond my expectation, but -not up to the admiration of the <i lang="fr">ton</i>, two or three of -whom were in the same box with me.… Mr. Crawford -asked me if I did not think her the best actress I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> -ever saw? I said, ‘By no means; we old folks were -apt to be prejudiced in favour of our first impressions.’ -She is a good figure, handsome enough, though neither -nose nor chin according to the Greek standard, beyond -which both advance a good deal. Her hair is either -red, or she has no objection to its being thought so, and -had used red powder. Her voice is clear and good; -but I thought she did not vary its modulations enough, -nor ever approach enough to the familiar—but this -may come when more habituated to the awe of the -audience of the capital. Her action is proper, but with -little variety; when without motion, her arms are not -genteel. Thus you see all my objections are very -trifling; but what I really wanted, but did not find, was -originality, which announces genius, and without both -which I am never intrinsically pleased. All Mrs. -Siddons did, good sense or good instruction might give. -I dare to say, that were I one-and-twenty, I should -have thought her marvellous; but alas! I remember -Mrs. Porter and the Dumesnil—and remember every -accent of the former in the very same part. Yet this -is not entirely prejudice: don’t I equally recollect the -whole progress of Lord Chatham and Charles Townshend, -and does it hinder my thinking Mr. Fox a -prodigy?—Pray don’t send him this paragraph too.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Again:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“Mrs. Siddons continues to be the mode, and to be -modest and sensible. She declines great dinners, and -says her business and the cares of her family take up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> -her whole time. When Lord Carlisle carried her the -tribute-money from Brooks’s, he said she was not -<i lang="fr">maniérée</i> enough. ‘I suppose she was grateful,’ said -my niece, Lady Maria. Mrs. Siddons was desired to -play ‘Medea’ and ‘Lady Macbeth.’—‘No,’ she replied -‘she did not look on them as female characters.’ She -was questioned about her transactions with Garrick: -she said, ‘He did nothing but put her out; that he -told her she moved her right hand when it should have -been her left. In short,’ said she, ‘I found I must not -shade the tip of his nose.’”</p> - -</div> - -<p>The war was now over. Lord North had fallen; his -successor, Lord Rockingham, was dead; and Lord Shelburne, -who had grasped the helm in spite of Fox, had to -meet the demands of the victorious Colonists and their -French allies, with the certainty that whatever he -arranged would be distasteful to his countrymen, and -bitterly opposed by the partisans both of his rival and of -North. With the first weeks of 1783 came news of peace. -Horace writes about it, in almost the same words, to -Mann and Lady Ossory, his two chief correspondents -at this time: “Peace is arrived. I cannot express how -glad I am. I care not a straw what the terms are, -which I believe I know more imperfectly than anybody -in London. I am not apt to love details—my wish was -to have peace, and the next to see America secure of its -liberty. Whether it will make good use of it, is another -point. It has an opportunity that never occurred in -the world before, of being able to select the best parts -of every known constitution; but I suppose it will not,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> -as too prejudiced against royalty to adopt it, even as a -corrective of aristocracy and democracy.” He anticipates -that highway robberies will grow more daring on -the disbanding of troops, and that there will be an -inundation of French visitors. In less than six months -he was able to boast that both his prophecies had been -fulfilled. In June, he describes how, on a dark and -rainy night, Strawberry Hill was invaded by the French -Ambassador at the head of a large party:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“Of all houses upon earth, mine, from the painted -glass and over-hanging trees, wants the sun the most; -besides the Star Chamber and passage being obscured -on purpose to raise the Gallery. They ran their foreheads -against Henry VII., and took the grated door of -the Tribune for the dungeon of the castle. I mustered -all the candlesticks in the house, but before they could -be lighted up, the young ladies, who, by the way, are -extremely natural, agreeable, and civil, were seized -with a panic of highwaymen, and wanted to go. I -laughed, and said, I believed there was no danger, for -that I had not been robbed these two years. However, -I was not quite in the right; they were stopped in -Knightsbridge by two footpads, but Lady Pembroke -having lent them a servant besides their own, they -escaped.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Shortly afterwards he writes to Mann:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“We have swarms of French daily; but they come -as if they had laid wagers that there is no such place as -England, and only wanted to verify its existence, or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> -that they had a mind to dance a minuet on English -ground; for they turn on their heel the moment after -landing. Three came to see this house last week, and -walked through it literally while I wrote eight lines of a -letter; for I heard them go up the stairs, and heard -them go down, exactly in the time I was finishing no -longer a paragraph. It were happy for me had nobody -more curiosity than a Frenchman; who is never struck -with anything but what he has seen every day at Paris. -I am tormented all day and every day by people that -come to see my house, and have no enjoyment of it in -summer. It would be even in vain to say that the -plague is here. I remember such a report in London -when I was a child, and my uncle, Lord Townshend, -then Secretary of State, was forced to send guards to -keep off the crowd from the house in which the -plague was said to be; they would go and <em>see</em> the -plague!”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Walpole apologises to his diplomatic correspondent for -dwelling on such trifling topics. “The Peace,” he says, -“has closed the chapter of important news, which was -all our correspondence lived on.” The period of dulness -and inaction, however, came to an end with the close of -the Parliamentary vacation. The Coalition Government -of Fox and Lord North, which had superseded Lord -Shelburne in the spring, was now fairly brought to the -bar of public opinion. Walpole, who had offended Fox’s -adherents by the part he had played in the intrigues<a name="FNanchor_90" id="FNanchor_90"></a><a href="#Footnote_90" class="fnanchor">[90]</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> -which followed on the death of Lord Rockingham, -sought to retrieve his character by an eager support of -the new Administration. He was loud in his praises of -Fox’s masterly eloquence and strong sense. He now -disparages Fox’s chief opponent. “His competitor, -Mr. Pitt,” says Horace, “appears by no means an -adequate rival. Just like their fathers, Mr. Pitt has -brilliant language, Mr. Fox solid sense; and such -luminous powers of displaying it clearly, that mere -Eloquence is but a Bristol stone, when set by the -diamond Reason.” The country at this moment was -agitated by the debates on Fox’s celebrated India Bill. -This measure was being carried by triumphant majorities -through the Lower House, and, as Walpole thought, -the Opposition did not expect to succeed even in the -House of Lords. He goes so far as to add, “Mr. Pitt’s -reputation is much sunk; nor, though he is a much -more correct logician than his father, has he the same -firmness and perseverance. It is no wonder that he -was dazzled by his own premature fame; yet his late -checks may be of use to him, and teach him to appreciate -his strength better, or to wait till it is confirmed. -Had he listed under Mr. Fox, who loved and courted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> -him, he would not only have discovered modesty, but -have been more likely to succeed him, than by commencing -his competitor.” This was written on the 5th -of December, 1783. Ten days later the India Bill was -defeated in the House of Lords; the King at once dismissed -the Coalition; and before the end of the year -Pitt was installed as head of the Government, a position -which he retained for the rest of Walpole’s life. -The struggle which the new Ministry had to maintain -for several weeks against an adverse majority in the -House of Commons is matter of familiar history which -needs not here be dwelt upon.</p> - -<p>The intense excitement which these events created -throughout the country is faithfully reflected in Walpole’s -correspondence. We find them producing a -rupture between him and his correspondent of many -years’ standing, the poet Mason, which was not healed -till shortly before the deaths of the parties. And -in writing to Mann, Walpole several times refers to -the general ferment. Thus he says: “Politics have -engrossed all conversation, and stifled other events, -if any have happened. Indeed our ladies, who used -to contribute to enliven correspondence, are become -politicians, and, as Lady Townley says, ‘squeeze a -little too much lemon into conversation.’ They have -been called back a little to their own profession—dress, -by a magnificent ball which the Prince of Wales gave -two nights ago to near six hundred persons, to which -the Amazons of both parties were invited; and not a -scratch was given or received.” Again, in announcing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> -the dissolution of Parliament: “All the island will be -a scene of riot, and probably of violence. The parties -are not separated in gentle mood: there will, they say, -be contested elections everywhere: consequently vast -expense and animosities.… We have no private -news at all. Indeed, politics are all in all. I question -whether any woman will have anything to do with -a man of a different party. Little girls say, ‘Pray, -Miss, of which side are you?’ I heard of one that -said, ‘Mama and I cannot get Papa over to our -side!’… To the present drama, Elections, I shall -totally shut my ears. I hated elections forty years -ago; and, when I went to White’s, preferred a conversation -on Newmarket to one on elections: for the -language of the former I did not understand, and, -consequently, did not listen to; the other, being uttered -in common phrase, made me attend, whether I would -or not. When such subjects are on the tapis, they -make me a very insipid correspondent. One cannot -talk of what one does not care about; and it would be -jargon to you, if I did: however, do not imagine but I -allow a sufficient quantity of dulness to my time of life. -I have kept up a correspondence with you with tolerable -spirit for three-and-forty years together, without our -once meeting. Can you wonder that my pen is worn -to the stump? You see it does not abandon you; nor, -though conscious of its own decay, endeavour to veil it -by silence. The Archbishop of Gil Blas has long been -a lesson to me to watch over my own ruins; but I do -not extend that jealousy of vanity to commerce with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> -an old friend. You knew me in my days of folly -and riotous spirit; why should I hide my dotage from -you, which is not equally my fault and reproach?”</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 650px;" id="illus6"> - -<img src="images/illus6.jpg" width="650" height="560" alt="" /> - -<p class="caption-credit"><i>Sir Joshua Reynolds. Pinx.</i> <span class="caption-center"><i>A. Dawson. Ph. Sc.</i></span> <i>G. Keating. Sc.</i></p> - -<p class="caption-main"><i>The Duchess of Devonshire.</i></p> - -</div> - -<p>In the middle of the elections, Horace writes once -more:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“The scene is wofully changed for the Opposition, -though not half the new Parliament is yet chosen. -Though they still contest a very few counties and some -boroughs, they own themselves totally defeated. They -reckoned themselves sure of two hundred and forty -members; they probably will not have an hundred and -fifty; and, amongst them, not some capital leaders,—perhaps -not the Commander-in-Chief, Mr. Fox, certainly -not the late Commander-in-Chief of the Army, -General Conway. In short, between the industry of -the Court and the India Company, and that momentary -frenzy that sometimes seizes a whole nation, as if it -were a vast animal, such aversion to the Coalition and -such a detestation of Mr. Fox have seized the country, -that, even where omnipotent gold retains its influence, -the elected pass through an ordeal of the most virulent -abuse. The great Whig families, the Cavendishes, -Rockinghams, Bedfords, have lost all credit in their -own counties; nay, have been tricked out of seats -where the whole property was their own; and in some -of those cases a <em>royal</em> finger has too evidently tampered, -as well as singularly and revengefully towards Lord -North and Lord Hertford; the latter of whom, however,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> -is likely to have six of his own sons<a name="FNanchor_91" id="FNanchor_91"></a><a href="#Footnote_91" class="fnanchor">[91]</a> in the House -of Commons—an extraordinary instance. Such a proscription, -however, must have sown so deep resentment -as it was not wise to provoke; considering that permanent -fortune is a jewel that in no crown is the most to -be depended upon!</p> - -<p>“When I have told you these certain truths, and -when you must be aware that this torrent of unpopularity -broke out in the capital, will it not sound like a -contradiction if I affirm that Mr. Fox himself is still -struggling to be chosen for Westminster, and maintains -so sturdy a fight, that Sir Cecil Wray, his antagonist, is -not yet three hundred ahead of him, though the Court -exerts itself against him in the most violent manner, by -mandates, arts, etc.—nay, sent at once a body of two -hundred and eighty of the Guards to give their votes as -householders, which <em>is</em> legal, but which my father in the -most quiet seasons would not have dared to do! At -first, the contest threatened to be bloody: Lord Hood<a name="FNanchor_92" id="FNanchor_92"></a><a href="#Footnote_92" class="fnanchor">[92]</a> -being the third candidate, and on the side of the Court, -a mob of three hundred sailors undertook to drive away -the opponents; but the Irish chairmen,<a name="FNanchor_93" id="FNanchor_93"></a><a href="#Footnote_93" class="fnanchor">[93]</a> being retained -by Mr. Fox’s party, drove them back to their element, -and cured the tars of their ambition of a naval victory. -In truth, Mr. Fox has all the popularity in Westminster; -and, indeed, is so amiable and winning, that, could he -have stood in person all over England, I question -whether he would not have carried the Parliament.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> -The beldams hate him; but most of the pretty women -in London are indefatigable in making interest for him, -the Duchess of Devonshire in particular.<a name="FNanchor_94" id="FNanchor_94"></a><a href="#Footnote_94" class="fnanchor">[94]</a> I am ashamed -to say how coarsely she has been received by some -worse than tars! But me nothing has shocked so much -as what I heard this morning: at Dover they roasted a -poor <em>fox</em> alive by the most diabolic allegory!—a savage -meanness that an Iroquois would not have committed. -Base, cowardly wretches! How much nobler to have -hurried to London and torn Mr. Fox himself piecemeal! -I detest a country inhabited by such stupid -barbarians. I will write no more to-night; I am in a -passion!”</p> - -</div> - -<p>A fortnight later he adds:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“Most elections are over; and, if they were not, -neither you nor I care about such details. I have no -notion of filling one’s head with circumstances of -which, in six weeks, one is to discharge it for ever. -Indeed, it is well that I live little in the world, or I -should be obliged to provide myself with that viaticum -for common conversation. Our ladies are grown such -vehement politicians, that no other topic is admissible; -nay, I do not know whether <em>you</em> must not learn our -politics for the <i lang="it">conversationi</i> at Florence,—at least, if -Paris gives the <i lang="fr">ton</i> to Italy, as it used to do. There are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> -as warm parties for Mr. Fox or Mr. Pitt at Versailles -and Amsterdam as in Westminster. At the first, I -suppose, they exhale in epigrams; are expressed at the -second by case-knives; at the last they vent themselves -in deluges of satiric prints,<a name="FNanchor_95" id="FNanchor_95"></a><a href="#Footnote_95" class="fnanchor">[95]</a> though with no more wit -than there is in a case-knife. I was told last night -that our engraved pasquinades for this winter, at -twelvepence or sixpence a-piece, would cost six or -seven pounds.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>In the result, Fox was returned, but Conway lost his -seat. Walpole congratulates the latter on his retirement -from public life:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Berkeley Square, Wednesday, May 5, 1784.</p> - -<p>“Your cherries, for aught I know, may, like Mr. -Pitt, be half ripe before others are in blossom; but at -Twickenham, I am sure, I could find dates and pomegranates -on the quickset hedges, as soon as a cherry in -swaddling-clothes on my walls. The very leaves on the -horse-chesnuts are little things, that cry and are -afraid of the north wind, and cling to the bough -as if <em>old poker</em> was coming to take them away. For my -part, I have seen nothing like spring but a chimney-sweeper’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> -garland; and yet I have been three days in -the country—and the consequence was, that I was glad -to come back to town.</p> - -<p>“I do not wonder that you feel differently; anything -is warmth and verdure when compared to poring over -memorials. In truth, I think you will be much happier -for being out of Parliament. You could do no good -there; you have no views of ambition to satisfy; and -when neither duty nor ambition calls (I do not condescend -to name avarice, which never is to be satisfied, -nor deserves to be reasoned with, nor has any place in -your breast), I cannot conceive what satisfaction an -elderly man can have in listening to the passions or -follies of others: nor is eloquence such a banquet, when -one knows that, whoever the cooks are, whatever the -sauces, one has eaten as good beef or mutton before, -and, perhaps, as well dressed. It is surely time to live -for one’s self, when one has not a vast while to live; -and you, I am persuaded, will live the longer for leading -a country life. How much better to be planting, -nay, making experiments on smoke<a name="FNanchor_96" id="FNanchor_96"></a><a href="#Footnote_96" class="fnanchor">[96]</a> (if not too dear), -than reading applications from officers, a quarter of -whom you could not serve, nor content three quarters! -You had not time for necessary exercise; and, I believe, -would have blinded yourself. In short, if you -will live in the air all day, be totally idle, and not read -or write a line by candle-light, and retrench your suppers, -I shall rejoice in your having nothing to do but that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> -dreadful punishment, pleasing yourself. Nobody has -any claims on you; you have satisfied every point of -honour; you have no cause for being particularly grateful -to the Opposition; and you want no excuse for -living for yourself. Your resolutions on economy are -not only prudent, but just; and, to say the truth, I -believe that if you had continued at the head of the -Army, you would have ruined yourself. You have too -much generosity to have curbed yourself, and would -have had too little time to attend to doing so. I know -by myself how pleasant it is to have laid up a little -for those I love, for those that depend on me, and for -old servants.…</p> - -<p>“You seem to think that I might send you more -news. So I might, if I would talk of elections; but -those, you know, I hate, as, in general, I do all details. -How Mr. Fox has recovered such a majority I do not -guess; still less do I comprehend how there could be so -many that had not voted, after the poll had lasted so -long.<a name="FNanchor_97" id="FNanchor_97"></a><a href="#Footnote_97" class="fnanchor">[97]</a> Indeed, I should be sorry to understand such -mysteries.…</p> - -<p>“P.S. The summer is come to town, but I hope -gone into the country too.”</p> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p> - -<p>The new Parliament having met, and disclosed a -majority of more than two to one in favour of the -Government, Walpole dismisses politics and returns to -lighter topics. He writes to Conway:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Strawberry Hill, June 30, 1784.</p> - -<p>“Instead of coming to you, I am thinking of packing -up and going to town for winter, so desperate is the -weather! I found a great fire at Mrs. Clive’s this -evening, and Mr. Raftor hanging over it like a smoked -ham. They tell me my hay will be all spoiled for want -of cutting; but I had rather it should be destroyed by -standing than by being mowed, as the former will cost -me nothing but the crop, and ’tis very dear to make -nothing but a water-souchy of it.</p> - -<p>“You know I have lost a niece, and found another -nephew: he makes the fifty-fourth, reckoning both -sexes. We are certainly an affectionate family, for of -late we do nothing but marry one another. Have not -YOU felt a little twinge in a remote corner of your heart -on Lady Harrington’s death?<a name="FNanchor_98" id="FNanchor_98"></a><a href="#Footnote_98" class="fnanchor">[98]</a> She dreaded death so -extremely that I am glad she had not a moment to be -sensible of it. I have a great affection for sudden -deaths; they save one’s self and everybody else a deal of -ceremony.</p> - -<p>“The Duke and Duchess of Marlborough breakfasted -here on Monday, and seemed much pleased, though it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> -rained the whole time with an Egyptian darkness. I -should have thought there had been deluges enough to -destroy all Egypt’s other plagues: but the newspapers -talk of locusts; I suppose relations of your beetles, -though probably not so fond of green fruit; for the -scene of their campaign is Queen Square, Westminster, -where there certainly has not been an orchard since the -reign of Canute.</p> - -<p>“I have, at last, seen an air-balloon; just as I once -did see a tiny review, by passing one accidentally on -Hounslow Heath. I was going last night to Lady -Onslow at Richmond, and over Mr. Cambridge’s field I -saw a bundle in the air not bigger than the moon, and -she herself could not have descended with more composure -if she had expected to find Endymion fast -asleep. It seemed to ’light on Richmond Hill; but -Mrs. Hobart was going by, and her <i lang="fr">coiffure</i> prevented -my seeing it alight. The papers say, that a balloon has -been made at Paris representing the castle of Stockholm, -in compliment to the King of Sweden; but that -they are afraid to let it off: so, I suppose, it will be -served up to him in a dessert. No great progress, -surely, is made in these airy navigations, if they are -still afraid of risking the necks of two or three subjects -for the entertainment of a visiting sovereign. There is -seldom a <i lang="fr">feu de joie</i> for the birth of a Dauphin that does -not cost more lives. I thought royalty and science -never haggled about the value of blood when experiments -are in the question.</p> - -<p>“I shall wait for summer before I make you a visit.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> -Though I dare to say that you have converted your -smoke-kilns into a manufactory of balloons, pray do -not erect a Strawberry castle in the air for my reception, -if it will cost a pismire a hair of its head. Good-night! -I have ordered my bed to be heated as hot as -an oven, and Tonton and I must go into it.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>The recent invention of balloons was at this time -exciting general interest. “This enormous capital,” -says Walpole, “that must have some occupation, is -most innocently amused with those philosophic playthings, -air-balloons. An Italian, one Lunardi, is the -first <i>airgonaut</i> that has mounted into the clouds in this -country. He is said to have bought three or four thousand -pounds in the stocks, by exhibiting his person, his -balloon, and his dog and cat, at the Pantheon for a -shilling each visitor. Blanchard, a Frenchman, is his -rival; and I expect that they will soon have an air-fight -in the clouds, like a stork and a kite.”</p> - -<p>This year ended for our author with a severe attack -of gout. He replies to inquiries from Lady Ossory:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Berkeley Square, Dec. 27, 1784.</p> - -<p>“I am told that I am in a prodigious fine way; -which, being translated into plain English, means that -I have suffered more sharp pain these two days than in -all the moderate fits together that I have had for these -last nine years: however, Madam, I have one great -blessing, there is drowsiness in all the square hollows of -the red-hot bars of the gridiron on which I lie, so that -I scream and fall asleep by turns, like a babe that is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> -cutting its first teeth. I can add nothing to this exact -account, which I only send in obedience to your Ladyship’s -commands, which I received just now: I did -think on Saturday that the worst was over.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>On his recovery, he writes:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“I am always thanking you, Madam, I think, for -kind inquiries after me; but it is not my fault that I am -so often troublesome! I would it were otherwise!—however, -I do not complain. I have attained another -resurrection, and was so glad of my liberty, that I went -out both Saturday and Sunday, though so snowy a day -and so rainy a day never were invented. Yet I have -not ventured to see Mrs. Jordan,<a name="FNanchor_99" id="FNanchor_99"></a><a href="#Footnote_99" class="fnanchor">[99]</a> nor to skate in Hyde -Park. We had other guess winters in my time!—fine -sunny mornings, with now and then a mild earthquake, -just enough to wake one, and rock one to sleep again -comfortably. My recoveries surprise me more than my -fits; but I am quite persuaded now that I know exactly -how I shall end: as I am a statue of chalk, I shall -crumble to powder, and then my inside will be blown -away from my terrace, and hoary-headed Margaret will -tell the people that come to see my house,—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">‘One morn we miss’d him on the ’custom’d hill.’</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">When that is the case, Madam, don’t take the pains -of inquiring more; as I shall leave no <em>body</em> to return -to, even Cagliostro would bring me back to no purpose.”</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</h2> - -<div class="summary"> - -<p>Lady Correspondents.—Madame de Genlis.—Miss Burney and -Hannah More.—Deaths of Mrs. Clive and Sir Horace Mann.—Story -of Madame de Choiseul.—Richmond.—Queensberry House.—Warren -Hastings.—Genteel Comedy.—St. Swithin.—Riverside -Conceits.—Lord North.—The Theatre again.—Gibbon’s History.—Sheridan.—Conway’s -Comedy.—A Turkish War.—Society -Newspapers.—The Misses Berry.—Bonner’s Ghost.—The -Arabian Nights.—King’s College Chapel.—Richmond Society.—New -Arrivals.—The Berrys visit Italy.—A Farewell Letter.</p> - -</div> - -<p>No one who has looked through Walpole’s published -letters can have failed to observe that the great majority -of those which belong to the last twelve or thirteen -years of the writer’s life are addressed to female correspondents. -This is not an accidental circumstance. -It is clear that, as his old friends dropped off, Horace -supplied their places, in almost every instance, with -women. The antiquary Pinkerton succeeds to the -antiquary Cole,<a name="FNanchor_100" id="FNanchor_100"></a><a href="#Footnote_100" class="fnanchor">[100]</a> but Montagu and Mason, Sir Horace -Mann<a name="FNanchor_101" id="FNanchor_101"></a><a href="#Footnote_101" class="fnanchor">[101]</a> and Lord Strafford,<a name="FNanchor_102" id="FNanchor_102"></a><a href="#Footnote_102" class="fnanchor">[102]</a> had no successors of their -own sex. Except when literary topics were on the -carpet, Walpole, in his latter days, shrank from engaging<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> -in discussion with younger and more vigorous -men. In several passages of his correspondence, he -acknowledges this feeling of reserve and shyness. But -with ladies of every class he was always at home and at -ease. Old or young, grave or gay, English or French, -they found him their devoted servant, full of nicely -adjusted gallantry, never too busy to entertain with -gossip and letters, ever ready to assist with advice, and, -when occasion required, with the contents of a well-stocked -purse. Thus, from the year 1785 onwards, we -have him generally in correspondence with ladies, and -as often as not, about ladies. During the first part of -this period especially, sketches of well-known women -meet us, thrown off at frequent intervals by his practised -pen. Here is an account of a visit from Madame -de Genlis in July, 1785:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“You surprise me, Madam, by saying the newspapers -mention my disappointment of seeing Madame de -Genlis. How can such arrant trifles spread? It is -very true, that as the hill would not go to see Madame -de Genlis, she has come to see the hill. Ten days ago -Mrs. Cosway sent me a note that <i lang="fr">Madame</i> desired a -ticket for Strawberry Hill. I thought I could not do -less than offer her a breakfast, and named yesterday -se’nnight. Then came a message that she must go to -Oxford and take her Doctor’s degree; and then another, -that I should see her yesterday, when she did arrive -with Miss Wilkes and Pamela, whom she did not even -present to me, and whom she has educated to be very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> -like herself in the face. I told her I could not attribute -the honour of her visit but to my late dear friend -Madame du Deffand. It rained the whole time, and -was dark as midnight, so that she could scarce distinguish -a picture; but you will want an account of her, -and not of what she saw or could not see. Her person -is agreeable, and she seems to have been pretty. Her -conversation is natural and reasonable, not <i lang="fr">précieuse</i> and -affected, and searching to be eloquent, as I had expected. -I asked her if she had been pleased with -Oxford, meaning the buildings, not the wretched oafs -that inhabit it. She said she had had little time; that -she had wished to learn their plan of education, which, -as she said sensibly, she supposed was adapted to our -Constitution. I could have told her that it is directly -repugnant to our Constitution, and that nothing is -taught there but drunkenness and prerogative, or, in -their language, Church and King. I asked if it is true -that the new edition of Voltaire’s works is prohibited: -she replied, severely,—and then condemned those who -write against religion and government, which was a -little unlucky before her friend <em>Miss Wilkes</em>. She stayed -two hours, and returns to France to-day <em>to her duty</em>. I -really do not know whether the Duc de Chartres is in -England or not. She did lodge in his house in Portland -Place; but at Paris, I think, has an hotel where -she educates his daughters.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>A little later, he reports: “Dr. Burney and his -daughter, Evelina-Cecilia, have passed a day and a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> -half with me.<a name="FNanchor_103" id="FNanchor_103"></a><a href="#Footnote_103" class="fnanchor">[103]</a> He is lively and agreeable; she half-and-half -sense and modesty, which possess her so -entirely, that not a cranny is left for affectation or -pretension. Oh! Mrs. Montagu, you are not above -half as accomplished.” This was an unusual tribute -from the fastidious Horace.</p> - -<p>Here, too, we must introduce the name of another -literary lady, whose acquaintance with our author, -begun some time previously, ripened about this date -into an occasional exchange of letters. Hannah More,<a name="FNanchor_104" id="FNanchor_104"></a><a href="#Footnote_104" class="fnanchor">[104]</a> -then one of the Vesey coterie in Clarges Street, which, -however, she presently quitted, ranked, we conceive, in -Walpole’s estimation, about midway between Mrs. -Montagu and Miss Burney. Writing to Hannah, not -long after her retirement from London, he says: “The -last time I saw her,” that is Mrs. Vesey, “Miss Burney -passed the evening there, looking quite recovered and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> -well, and so cheerful and agreeable, that the Court -seems only to have improved the ease of her manner, -instead of stamping more reserve on it, as I feared: -but what slight graces it can give, will not compensate -to us and the world for the loss of her company and -her writings. Not but that <em>some young ladies</em> who can -write, can stifle their talent as much as if they were -under lock and key in the royal library. I do not see -but <em>a cottage</em> is as pernicious to genius as the Queen’s -waiting-room.”</p> - -<p>Walpole had laughed at the “Blue-stockings,” but -he bows graciously to the authors of “Cecilia” and -“Percy,” and marks by an altered style of address his -sense of the difference between the tone of these ladies -and that of the Lady Ossorys and Kitty Clives with -whom his youth and middle life had been spent. Poor -Kitty’s old age of cards came to an end before the close -of 1785, and Cliveden, which she had occupied for more -than thirty years, stood for awhile untenanted. Horace -lamented the loss of his old friend and neighbour, but -she was several years senior to himself, and her death -was not unexpected. The pair had lived so much -together that probably few letters passed between -them: none have been preserved, and the removal of -the lady makes no gap in the gentleman’s correspondence. -It is otherwise with the next name which was -struck from Walpole’s list of old familiar acquaintances. -Shortly after losing a friend from whom he was never -long parted, he lost the friend whom he never met. -No long time had elapsed since Walpole had written to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> -Mann: “Shall we not be very venerable in the annals -of friendship? What Orestes and Pylades ever wrote -to each other for four-and-forty years without meeting? -A correspondence of near half a century is not to be -paralleled in the annals of the Post Office.” Again, -about the time of Mrs. Clive’s death: “<em>Now</em> I think -we are like Castor and Pollux; when one rises, t’other -sets; when you can write, I cannot. I have got a very -sharp attack of gout in my right hand.… Your -being so well is a great comfort to me.” Despite this -congratulation, however, the Ambassador was very near -to his final setting. He died at Florence on the 16th -of November, 1786, after a long illness, during the -latter part of which he was apparently not in a condition -to receive letters. Walpole’s last letter to him -is dated June 22, 1786. It makes the eight hundred -and ninth in the collection, as printed, of Walpole’s -part of the correspondence between them.</p> - -<p>But we must not suppose that Lady Ossory’s gazetteer -is all this time forgetful of his Countess. Here is an -anecdote which he sends her in the early part of 1786:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“How do you like, Madam, the following story? A -young Madame de Choiseul is inloved with by Monsieur -de Coigny and Prince Joseph of Monaco. She longed -for a parrot that should be a miracle of eloquence: -every other shop in Paris sells mackaws, parrots, -cockatoos, &c. No wonder one at least of the rivals -soon found a Mr. Pitt, and the bird was immediately -declared the nymph’s first minister: but as she had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> -two passions as well as two lovers, she was also enamoured -of General Jackoo at Astley’s. The unsuccessful -candidate offered Astley ingots for his monkey, -but Astley demanding a <i lang="fr">terre</i> for life, the paladin was -forced to desist, but fortunately heard of another -miracle of parts of the Monomotapan race, who was -not in so exalted a sphere of life, being only a <i lang="fr">marmiton</i> -in a kitchen, where he had learnt to pluck fowls with -an inimitable dexterity. This dear animal was not -invaluable, was bought, and presented to Madame de -Choiseul, who immediately made him the <i lang="fr">secretaire -de ses commandemens</i>. Her caresses were distributed -equally to the animals, and her thanks to the donors. -The first time she went out, the two former were locked -up in her bed-chamber. Ah! I dread to tell the -sequel. When the lady returned and flew to her -chamber, Jackoo the second received her with all the -<i lang="fr">empressement</i> possible—but where was Poll?—found at -last under the bed, shivering and cowering—and without -a feather, as stark as any Christian. Poll’s -presenter concluded that his rival had given the monkey -with that very view, challenged him, they fought, and -both were wounded; and an heroic adventure it was!”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Mrs. Clive being dead, and another sister-in-loo, -Lady Browne, whom he often called his better-half, -having left Twickenham, Walpole, when at Strawberry -Hill, began to look across the water for society. He -was attracted to Richmond by George Selwyn, who -was now at times domesticated there with the Duke of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> -Queensberry, the “Old Q” of the caricaturists. In -December, 1786, Horace writes:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“I went yesterday to see the Duke of Queensberry’s -palace at Richmond, under the conduct of George -Selwyn, the <i lang="fr">concierge</i>. You cannot imagine how noble -it looks now all the Cornbury pictures from Amesbury -are hung up there. The great hall, the great gallery, -the eating-room, and the corridor, are covered with -whole and half-lengths of royal family, favourites, -ministers, peers, and judges, of the reign of Charles I.—not -one an original, I think, at least not one fine, -yet altogether they look very respectable; and the -house is so handsome, and the views so rich, and the -day was so fine, that I could only have been more -pleased if (for half an hour) I could have seen the real -palace that once stood on that spot, and the persons -represented walking about!—A visionary holiday in old -age, though it has not the rapture of youth, is a sedate -enjoyment that is more sensible because one attends to -it and reflects upon it at the time; and as new tumults -do not succeed, the taste remains long in one’s memory’s -mouth.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Walpole was late this year in removing to Berkeley -Square. The political topic of the London season was -the debates in the House of Commons on the charges -against Warren Hastings; the social topic, in our -author’s circle at any rate, appears to have been some -theatrical performances at the Duke of Richmond’s -house in Whitehall. Horace seems to have interested<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> -himself a good deal more in the latter subject than the -former. Lady Ossory having urged him to read a -pamphlet in favour of Mr. Hastings, he replies:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“The pamphlet I have read, Madam; but cannot -tell you what would have been my opinion of it, -because my opinion was influenced before I saw it. A -lady-politician ordered me to read it, and to admire it, -as the <i lang="fr">chef-d’œuvre</i> of truth, eloquence, wit, argument, -and impartiality; and she assured me that the <em>reasonings</em> -in it were unanswerable. I believe she meant the -<em>assertions</em>, for I know she uses those words as synonymous. -I promised to obey her, as I am sure that ladies -understand politics better than I do, and I hold it as a -rule of faith—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“That all that they admire is sweet,</div> -<div class="verse">And all is sense that they repeat.</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>“How much ready wit they have! I can give you an -instance, Madam, that I heard last night. After the -late execution of the <em>eighteen</em> malefactors, a female was -hawking an account of them, but called them <em>nineteen</em>. -A gentleman said to her, ‘Why do you say <em>nineteen</em>? -there were but <em>eighteen</em> hanged.’ She replied, ‘Sir, I -did not know <em>you</em> had been reprieved.’”</p> - -</div> - -<p>A week later, he writes again:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Berkeley Square, Feb. 9, 1787.</p> - -<p>“Though I sigh for your Ladyship’s coming to town, -I do not know whether I shall not be a loser, for what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> -news don’t you send me? That Lord Salisbury is a -poet is nothing to your intelligence that <em>I</em> am going to -turn player; nay, perhaps I should, if I were not too -young for the company!—You tell me, too, that I snub -and sneer; I protest, I thought I was the snubee.…</p> - -<p>“For sneering, Heaven help me! I was guiltless. -Every day I meet with red-hot politicians in petticoats, -and told your Ladyship how I had been schooled by -one of them, and how docile I was. If you yourself -have any zeal for making converts, I should be very -ready to be a proselyte, if I could get anything by it. -It is very creditable, honourable, and fashionable; but, -alas! I am so insignificant that I fear nobody would -buy me; and one should look sillily to put one’s self up -to sale and not find a purchaser.</p> - -<p>“In short, I doubt I shall never make my fortune by -turning courtier or comedian; and therefore I may as -well adhere to my old principles, as I have always done, -since you yourself, Madam, would not be flattered in a -convert that nobody would take off your hands. If you -could bring over Mr. Sheridan, he would do something: -he talked for five hours and a half on Wednesday, and -turned everybody’s head. One heard everybody in the -streets raving on the wonders of that speech; for my -part, I cannot believe it was so supernatural as they -say—do you believe it was, Madam? I will go to my -oracle, who told me of the marvels of the pamphlet, -which assures us that Mr. Hastings is a prodigy of -virtue and abilities; and, as you think so too, how -should such a fellow as Sheridan, who has no diamonds<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> -to bestow, fascinate all the world?—Yet witchcraft, no -doubt, there has been, for when did simple eloquence -ever convince a majority? Mr. Pitt and 174 other -persons found Mr. Hastings guilty last night,<a name="FNanchor_105" id="FNanchor_105"></a><a href="#Footnote_105" class="fnanchor">[105]</a> and -only sixty-eight remained thinking with <em>the pamphlet</em> -and your Ladyship, that he is as white as snow. Well, -at least there is a new crime, sorcery, to charge on the -Opposition! and, till they are cleared of that charge, I -will never say a word in their favour, nor think on -politics more, which I would not have mentioned but in -answer to your Ladyship’s questions; and therefore -I hope we shall drop the subject, and meet soon -in Grosvenor Place in a perfect neutrality of good -humour.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>His remarks on the Duke’s Theatre are contained in -the following letter, written after his early return to -Twickenham.</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Strawberry Hill, June 14, 1787.</p> - -<p>“Though your Ladyship <em>gave me law</em> (a very proper -synonyme for delay), I should have answered your -letter incontinently, but I have had what is called a -<em>blight</em> in one of my eyes, and for some days was forced -to lie fallow, neither reading nor writing a line; which -is a little uncomfortable when quite alone. I do begin -to creep about my house, but have not recovered my -feet enough to compass the whole circuit of my garden. -Monday last was pleasant, and Tuesday very warm;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> -but we are relapsed into our east windhood, which has -reigned ever since I have been here for this <em>green winter</em>, -which, I presume, is the highest title due to this season, -which in southern climes is positive <em>summer</em>, a name -imported by our travellers, with grapes, peaches, and -tuberoses. However, most of my senses have enjoyed -themselves—my sight with verdure, my smell by millions -of honeysuckles, my hearing by nightingales, and my -feeling with good fires: tolerable luxury for an old -cavalier in the north of Europe! Semiramis of Russia -is not of my taste, or she would not travel half round the -arctic circle; unless she means to conquer the Turks, -and transfer the seat of her empire to Constantinople, -like its founder. The ghost of Irene will be mighty -glad to see her there, though a little surprised that the -Grand Duke, her son, is still alive. I hear she has -carried her grandchildren with her as hostages, or she -might be dethroned, and not hear of it for three -months.</p> - -<p>“I am very far from tired, Madam, of encomiums on -the performance at Richmond House, but I, by no -means, agree with the criticism on it that you quote, -and which, I conclude, was written by some player, -from envy. Who should act genteel comedy perfectly, -but people of fashion that have sense? Actors and -actresses can only guess at the tone of high life, and -can<em>not</em> be inspired with it. Why are there so few -genteel comedies, but because most comedies are -written by men not of that sphere? Etherege, Congreve, -Vanbrugh, and Cibber wrote genteel comedy,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> -because they lived in the best company; and Mrs. -Oldfield played it so well, because she not only followed, -but often set, the fashion. General Burgoyne has -written the best modern comedy, for the same reason; -and Miss Farren<a name="FNanchor_106" id="FNanchor_106"></a><a href="#Footnote_106" class="fnanchor">[106]</a> is as excellent as Mrs. Oldfield, -because she has lived with the best style of men in -England: whereas Mrs. Abington can never go beyond -<em>Lady Teazle</em>, which is a second-rate character, and that -rank of women are always aping women of fashion, -without arriving at the style. Farquhar’s plays talk -the language of a marching regiment in country -quarters: Wycherley, Dryden, Mrs. Centlivre, etc., -wrote as if they had only lived in the ‘Rose Tavern;’<a name="FNanchor_107" id="FNanchor_107"></a><a href="#Footnote_107" class="fnanchor">[107]</a> -but then the Court lived in Drury Lane, too, and Lady -Dorchester and Nell Gwyn were equally good company. -The Richmond Theatre, I imagine, will take root. I -supped with the Duke at Mrs. Damer’s, the night -before I left London, and they were talking of improvements -on <em>the local</em>, as the French would say.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>A few weeks later, he has dismissed the talk of -London, and is occupied with his neighbours on the -Thames. The following is a letter to Lord Strafford:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Strawberry Hill, July 28, 1787.</p> - -<p>“Saint Swithin is no friend to correspondence, my -dear Lord. There is not only a great sameness in his -own proceedings, but he makes everybody else dull—I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> -mean in the country, where one frets at its raining -every day and all day. In town he is no more minded -than the proclamation against vice and immorality. -Still, though he has all the honours of the quarantine, I -believed it often rained for forty days long before St. -Swithin was born, if ever born he was; and the proverb -was coined and put under his patronage, because people -observed that it frequently does rain for forty days -together at this season. I remember Lady Suffolk -telling me, that Lord Dysart’s great meadow at Ham had -never been mowed but once in forty years without rain. -I said, ‘All that that proved was, that rain was good -for hay,’ as I am persuaded the climate of a country -and its productions are suited to each other. Nay, -rain is good for haymakers too, who get more employment -the oftener the hay is made over again. I do not -know who is the saint that presides over thunder; but -he has made an unusual quantity in this chill summer, -and done a great deal of serious mischief, though not a -fiftieth part of what Lord George Gordon did seven -years ago, and happily he is fled.</p> - -<p>“Our little part of the world has been quiet as usual. -The Duke of Queensberry has given a sumptuous dinner -to the Princesse de Lamballe—<i lang="fr">et voilà tout</i>. I never -saw her, not even in France. I have no particular -<i lang="fr">penchant</i> for sterling princes and princesses, much less -for those of French plate.</p> - -<p>“The only entertaining thing I can tell your Lordship -from our district is, that old Madam French, who -lives close by the bridge at Hampton Court, where,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> -between her and the Thames, she has nothing but one -grass-plot of the width of her house, has paved that -whole plot with black and white marble in diamonds, -exactly like the floor of a church; and this curious -metamorphosis of a garden into a pavement has cost -her three hundred and forty pounds:—a tarpaulin she -might have had for some shillings, which would have -looked as well, and might easily have been removed. -To be sure, this exploit, and Lord Dudley’s obelisk -<em>below</em> a hedge, with his canal at right angles with the -Thames, and a sham bridge no broader than that of a -violin, and <em>parallel</em> to the river, are not preferable to the -monsters in clipt yews of our ancestors. On the contrary, -Mrs. Walsingham is making her house at Ditton -(now baptized Boyle Farm<a name="FNanchor_108" id="FNanchor_108"></a><a href="#Footnote_108" class="fnanchor">[108]</a>) very orthodox. Her -daughter Miss Boyle, who has real genius, has carved -three tablets in marble with boys, designed by herself. -Those sculptures are for a chimney-piece; and she is -painting panels in grotesque for the library, with -pilasters of glass in black and gold. Miss Crewe, who -has taste too, has decorated a room for her mother’s -house at Richmond, which was Lady Margaret Compton’s, -in a very pretty manner. How much more -amiable the old women of the next age will be, than -most of those we remember, who used to tumble at -once from gallantry to devout scandal and cards, and -revenge on the young of their own sex the desertion of -ours! Now they are ingenious, they will not want -amusement.”</p> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p> - -<p>In the autumn, he pays a visit to Lord North:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“I dined last Monday at Bushy (for you know I -have more <i lang="fr">penchant</i> for Ministers that are out than -when they are in) and never saw a more interesting -scene. Lord North’s spirits, good humour, wit, sense, -drollery, are as perfect as ever—the unremitting attention -of Lady North and his children, most touching. -Mr. North leads him about, Miss North sits constantly -by him, carves meat, watches his every motion, scarce -puts a bit into her own lips; and if one cannot help -commending her, she colours with modesty and sorrow -till the tears gush into her eyes. If ever loss of sight -could be compensated, it is by so affectionate a family.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Not long after this, Walpole repeats a good-humoured -jest of the blind old man on receiving a call from his -<i lang="la">quondam</i> opponent, Colonel Barré, whose sight also -was nearly gone. Lord North said: “Colonel Barré, -nobody will suspect us of insincerity, if we say that we -should always be overjoyed to see each other.”</p> - -<p>With the return of winter, the theatre comes up -again. There was a stage at Ampthill as well as at -Whitehall:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Berkeley Square, Jan. 15, 1788.</p> - -<p>“All joy to your Ladyship on the success of your -theatric campaign. I do think the representation of -plays as entertaining and ingenious, as choosing king -and queen, and the gambols and mummeries of our -ancestors at Christmas; or as making one’s neighbours<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> -and all their servants drunk, and sending them home -ten miles in the dark with the chance of breaking their -necks by some comical overturn. I wish I could have -been one of the audience; but, alas! I am like the -African lamb, and can only feed on the grass and herbs -that grow within my reach.</p> - -<p>“I can make no returns yet from the theatre at -Richmond House; the Duke and Duchess do not come -till the birthday, and I have been at no more rehearsals, -being satisfied with two of the play. Prologue or -epilogue there is to be none, as neither the plays nor -the performers, in general, are new. The ‘Jealous -Wife’ is to succeed for the exhibition of Mrs. Hobart, -who could have no part in ‘The Wonder.’</p> - -<p>“My histrionic acquaintance spreads. I supped at -Lady Dorothy Hotham’s with Mrs. Siddons, and have -visited and been visited by her, and have seen and -liked her much, yes, very much, in the passionate -scenes of ‘Percy;’ but I do not admire her in cool -declamation, and find her voice very hollow and defective. -I asked her in which part she would most wish -me to see her? She named Portia in the ‘Merchant of -Venice;’ but I begged to be excused. With all my -enthusiasm for Shakespeare, it is one of his plays that -I like the least. The story of the caskets is silly, and, -except the character of Shylock, I see nothing beyond -the attainment of a mortal: Euripides, or Racine, or -Voltaire, might have written all the rest. Moreover, -Mrs. Siddons’s warmest devotees do not hold her above -a demigoddess in comedy. I have chosen ‘Athenais,’<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> -in which she is to appear soon; her scorn is admirable.…</p> - -<p>“Puppet-shows are coming on, the birth-day, the Parliament, -and the trial of Hastings and his imp, Elijah. -They will fill the town, I suppose.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Walpole was as severe on professional authors as on -professional actors. “Except,” he says, “for such a -predominant genius as Shakespeare and Milton, I hold -authors cheap enough: what merit is there in pains, -and study, and application, compared with the extempore -abilities of such men as Mr. Fox, Mr. Sheridan, -or Mr. Pitt?” But he made a further exception in -favour of Gibbon. The following extract, besides an -estimate of Gibbon’s History, contains a reference to -the celebrated Begum Speech delivered by Sheridan -in Westminster Hall on the trial of Warren Hastings:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“I finished Mr. Gibbon a full fortnight ago, and was -extremely pleased. It is a most wonderful mass of -information, not only on history, but almost on all the -ingredients of history, as war, government, commerce, -coin, and what not. If it has a fault, it is in embracing -too much, and consequently in not detailing enough, -and in striding backwards and forwards from one set of -princes to another, and from one subject to another; so -that, without much historic knowledge, and without -much memory, and much method in one’s memory, it -is almost impossible not to be sometimes bewildered: -nay, his own impatience to tell what he knows, makes -the author, though commonly so explicit, not perfectly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> -clear in his expressions. The last chapter of the fourth -volume, I own, made me recoil, and I could scarcely -push through it. So far from being Catholic or heretic, -I wished Mr. Gibbon had never heard of Monophysites, -Nestorians, or any such fools! But the sixth volume -made ample amends; Mahomet and the Popes were -gentlemen and good company. I abominate fractions -of theology and reformation.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Sheridan, I hear, did not quite satisfy the -passionate expectation that had been raised; but it was -impossible he could, when people had worked themselves -into an enthusiasm of offering fifty—ay, <em>fifty</em> -guineas for a ticket to hear him. Well, we are sunk -and deplorable in many points, yet not absolutely gone, -when history and eloquence throw out such shoots! I -thought I had outlived my country; I am glad not to -leave it desperate!”</p> - -</div> - -<p>The next letter contains further references to the -Begum Speech. It is addressed to Lord Strafford, -and is one of the latest of Walpole’s letters to that -nobleman which have been preserved:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Strawberry Hill, Tuesday night, June 17, 1788.</p> - -<p>“I guess, my dear Lord, and only guess, that you -are arrived at Wentworth Castle. If you are not, my -letter will lose none of its bloom by waiting for you; -for I have nothing fresh to tell you, and only write -because you enjoined it. I settled in my Liliputian -towers but this morning. I wish people would come -into the country on May-day, and fix in town the first<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> -of November. But as they will not, I have made up -my mind; and having so little time left, I prefer -London, when my friends and society are in it, to -living here alone, or with the weird sisters of Richmond -and Hampton. I had additional reason now, for the -streets are as green as the fields: we are burnt to the -bone, and have not a lock of hay to cover our nakedness: -oats are so dear, that I suppose they will soon be -eaten at Brooks’s and fashionable tables as a rarity. -Though not resident till now, I have flitted backwards -and forwards, and last Friday came hither to look for -a minute at a ball at Mrs. Walsingham’s at Ditton; -which would have been very pretty, for she had stuck -coloured lamps in the hair of all her trees and bushes, -if the east wind had not danced a reel all the time -by the side of the river.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Conway’s play,<a name="FNanchor_109" id="FNanchor_109"></a><a href="#Footnote_109" class="fnanchor">[109]</a> of which your Lordship has seen -some account in the papers, has succeeded delightfully, -both in representation and applause. The language is -most genteel, though translated from verse; and both -prologue and epilogue are charming. The former was -delivered most justly and admirably by Lord Derby, -and the latter with inimitable spirit and grace by Mrs. -Damer. Mr. Merry and Mrs. Bruce played excellently -too. But General Conway, Mrs. Damer, and everybody -else are drowned by Mr. Sheridan, whose renown -has engrossed all Fame’s tongues and trumpets. Lord<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> -Townshend said he should be sorry were he forced to -give a vote directly on Hastings, before he had time to -cool; and one of the Peers saying the speech had not -made the same impression on him, the Marquis replied, -A seal might be finely cut, and yet not be in fault for -making a bad impression.</p> - -<p>“I have, you see, been forced to send your Lordship -what scraps I brought from town. The next four -months, I doubt, will reduce me to my old sterility; -for I cannot retail French Gazettes, though as a good -Englishman bound to hope they will contain a civil -war. I care still less about the double imperial campaign, -only hoping that the poor dear Turks will -heartily beat both Emperor and Empress. If the first -Ottomans could be punished, they deserve it, but the -present possessors have as good a prescription on their -side as any people in Europe. We ourselves are -Saxons, Danes, Normans; our neighbours are Franks, -not Gauls; who the rest are, Goths, Gepidæ, Heruli, -Mr. Gibbon knows; and the Dutch usurped the estates -of herrings, turbots, and other marine indigenæ. Still, -though I do not wish the hair of a Turk’s beard to be -hurt, I do not say that it would not be amusing to -have Constantinople taken, merely as a lusty event; -for neither could I live to see Athens revive, nor have I -much faith in two such bloody-minded vultures, cock -and hen, as Catherine and Joseph, conquering for the -benefit of humanity; nor does my Christianity admire -the propagation of the Gospel by the mouth of cannon. -What desolation of peasants and their families by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> -episodes of forage and quarters! Oh! I wish Catherine -and Joseph were brought to Westminster Hall and -worried by Sheridan! I hope, too, that the poor -Begums are alive to hear of his speech: it will be some -comfort, though I doubt nobody thinks of restoring -them a quarter of a lac!”</p> - -</div> - -<p>We must now find place for a letter to Miss More:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Strawberry Hill, July 4, 1788.</p> - -<p>“I am soundly rejoiced, my dear Madam, that the -present summer is more favourable to me than the -last; and that, instead of not answering my letters in -three months, you open the campaign first. May not -I flatter myself that it is a symptom of your being in -better health? I wish, however, you had told me so -in positive words, and that all your complaints have -left you. Welcome as is your letter, it would have -been ten times more welcome bringing me that assurance; -for don’t think I forget how ill you was last -winter. As letters, you say, now keep their coaches, I -hope those from Bristol will call often at my door.<a name="FNanchor_110" id="FNanchor_110"></a><a href="#Footnote_110" class="fnanchor">[110]</a> I -promise you I will never be denied to them.</p> - -<p>“No botanist am I; nor wished to learn from <em>you</em>, of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> -all the Muses, that <em>piping</em> has a new signification. I -had rather that <em>you</em> handled an oaten pipe than a carnation -one; yet setting layers, I own, is preferable to -reading newspapers, one of the chronical maladies of -this age. Everybody reads them, nay, quotes them, -though everybody knows they are stuffed with lies or -blunders. How should it be otherwise? If any extraordinary -event happens, who but must hear it before it -descends through a coffee-house to the runner of a -daily paper? They who are always wanting news, are -wanting to hear they don’t know what. A lower -species, indeed, is that of the scribes you mention, who -every night compose a journal for the satisfaction of -such <em>illiterati</em>, and feed them with all the vices and -misfortunes of every private family; nay, they now call it -a <em>duty</em> to publish all those calamities which decency to -wretched relations used in compassion to suppress, I -mean self-murder in particular. Mr. Hesse’s was -detailed at length; and to-day that of Lord Saye and -Sele. The pretence is, <i lang="la">in terrorem</i>, like the absurd -stake and highway of our ancestors; as if there were a -precautionary potion for madness, or the stigma of a -newspaper were more dreadful than death. Daily -journalists, to be sure, are most respectable magistrates! -Yes, much like the cobblers that Cromwell -made peers.</p> - -<p>“I do lament your not going to Mr. Conway’s play: -both the author and actors deserved such an auditor as -you, and you deserved to hear them. However, I do -not pity <em>good</em> people who out of virtue lose or miss any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> -pleasures. Those pastimes fleet as fast as those of the -wicked; but, when gone, you saints can sit down and -feast on your self-denial, and drink bumpers of satisfaction -to the health of your own merit. So truly I don’t -pity you.</p> - -<p>“You say you hear no news, yet you quote Mr. -Topham;<a name="FNanchor_111" id="FNanchor_111"></a><a href="#Footnote_111" class="fnanchor">[111]</a> therefore why should I tell you that the -King is going to Cheltenham? or that the Baccelli -lately danced at the Opera at Paris with a blue bandeau -on her forehead, inscribed, <i lang="fr">Honi soit qui mal y -pense</i>!</p> - -<p>“Well! would we committed nothing but follies! -What do we not commit when the abolition of slavery -hitches! Adieu!</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Though Cato died, though Tully spoke,</div> -<div class="verse">Though Brutus dealt the godlike stroke,</div> -<div class="verse indent5">Yet perish’d fated Rome.</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>“<em>You</em> have written; and I fear that even, if Mr. -Sheridan speaks, trade, the modern religion, will predominate. -Adieu!”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Our next extract contains an account of an incident -which proved more fortunate for the writer than anything -that happened to him during the remainder of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> -his life. It is from a letter to Lady Ossory, dated -Strawberry Hill, October 11, 1788. Horace writes:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“I am sorry, for the third time of this letter, that I -have no new village anecdotes to send your Ladyship, -since they divert you for a moment. I have one, but -some months old. Lady Charleville, my neighbour, -told me three months ago, that, having some company -with her, one of them had been to see Strawberry. -‘Pray,’ said another, ‘who is that Mr. Walpole?’ -‘Who!’ cried a third, ‘don’t you know the great -epicure, Mr. Walpole?’ ‘Pho!’ said the first, ‘great -epicure! you mean the antiquarian.’ There, Madam, -surely this anecdote may take its place in the chapter -of local fame. If I have picked up no recent anecdotes -on our Common, I have made a much more, to me, -precious acquisition. It is the acquaintance of two -young ladies of the name of Berry, whom I first saw -last winter, and who accidentally took a house here -with their father for the season. Their story is singular -enough to entertain you. The grandfather,<a name="FNanchor_112" id="FNanchor_112"></a><a href="#Footnote_112" class="fnanchor">[112]</a> a Scot, had -a large estate in his own country, £5,000 a year it is -said; and a circumstance I shall tell you makes it probable. -The oldest son married for love a woman with -no fortune. The old man was enraged, and would not -see him. His wife died and left these two young ladies. -The grandfather wished for an heir male, and pressed -the widower to remarry, but could not prevail; the son -declaring he would consecrate himself to his daughters<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> -and their education. The old man did not break with -him again, but, much worse, totally disinherited him, -and left all to his second son, who very handsomely -gave up £800 a year to his elder brother. Mr. Berry -has since carried his daughters for two or three years -to France and Italy, and they are returned the best-informed -and the most perfect creatures I ever saw at -their age. They are exceedingly sensible, entirely -natural and unaffected, frank, and, being qualified to -talk on any subject, nothing is so easy and agreeable as -their conversation, nor more apposite than their answers -and observations. The eldest, I discovered by -chance, understands Latin and is a perfect Frenchwoman -in her language. The younger draws charmingly, -and has copied admirably Lady Di’s gipsies, -which I lent, though for the first time of her -attempting colours. They are of pleasing figures. -Mary, the eldest, sweet, with fine dark eyes, that are -very lively when she speaks, with a symmetry of face -that is the more interesting from being pale; Agnes, -the younger, has an agreeable sensible countenance, -hardly to be called handsome, but almost. She is less -animated than Mary, but seems, out of deference to her -sister, to speak seldomer, for they dote on each other, -and Mary is always praising her sister’s talents. I -must even tell you they dress within the bounds of -fashion, though fashionably; but without the excrescences -and balconies with which modern hoydens overwhelm -and barricade their persons. In short, good -sense, information, simplicity, and ease characterise<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> -the Berrys; and this is not particularly mine, who am -apt to be prejudiced, but the universal voice of all who -know them. The first night I met them I would not -be acquainted with them, having heard so much in -their praise that I concluded they would be all pretension. -The second time, in a very small company, I -sat next to Mary, and found her an angel both inside -and out. Now, I do not know which I like best; except -Mary’s face, which is formed for a sentimental novel, -but it is ten times fitter for a fifty times better thing, -genteel comedy. This delightful family comes to me -almost every Sunday evening, as our region is too -<em>proclamatory</em> to play at cards on the seventh day. I -forgot to tell you that Mr. Berry is a little merry man, -with a round face, and you would not suspect him of so -much feeling and attachment. I make no excuse for -such minute details; for, if your Ladyship insists on -hearing the humours of my district, you must for once -indulge me with sending you two pearls that I found in -my path.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>At the date of the above extract, Mary Berry was in -her twenty-sixth year, Agnes Berry in her twenty-fifth. -The notice taken by Walpole of these ladies gave them -a position in the best London society, which they enjoyed -for upwards of sixty years; but this patronage, -and any other benefits which he bestowed upon them, -were much more than repaid by the grateful attention -with which they sacrificed themselves to promote the -comfort of his last years. The new acquaintance advanced<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> -rapidly. Here is one of the earliest of Walpole’s -letters to the sisters which has been published. Like -many others of the series, it is addressed to the two -jointly.</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“February 2, 17-71<a name="FNanchor_113" id="FNanchor_113"></a><a href="#Footnote_113" class="fnanchor">[113]</a> [1789].</p> - -<p>“I am sorry, in the sense of that word before it -meant, like a Hebrew word, glad or sorry, that I am -engaged this evening; and I am at your command on -Tuesday, as it is always my inclination to be. It is a -misfortune that words are become so much the current -coin of society, that, like King William’s shillings, they -have no impression left; they are so smooth, that they -mark no more to whom they first belonged than to -whom they do belong, and are not worth even the -twelvepence into which they may be changed: but if -they mean too little, they may seem to mean too much -too, especially when an old man (who is often synonymous -for a miser) parts with them. I am afraid of -protesting how much I delight in your society, lest I -should seem to affect being gallant; but if two negatives -make an affirmative, why may not two ridicules -compose one piece of sense? and therefore, as I am in -love with you both, I trust it is a proof of the good -sense of your devoted H. Walpole.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>A few months later we have the following letter to -Miss More:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span></p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Strawberry Hill, June 23, 1789.</p> - -<p class="noindent">“<span class="smcap">Madam Hannah</span>,</p> - -<p>“You are an errant reprobate, and grow wickeder -and wickeder every day. You deserve to be treated -like a <i lang="fr">nègre</i>; and your favourite Sunday, to which you -are so partial, that you treat the other poor six days of the -week as if they had no souls to be saved, should, if I -could have my will, ‘shine no Sabbath-day for you.’ -Now, don’t simper, and look as innocent as if virtue -would not melt in your mouth. Can you deny the -following charges?—I lent you the ‘Botanic Garden,’ -and you returned it without writing a syllable, or saying -where you were, or whither you was going; I suppose -for fear I should know how to direct to you. Why, if I -did send a letter after you, could not you keep it three -months without an answer, as you did last year?</p> - -<p>“In the next place, you and your <em>nine</em> accomplices, -who, by the way, are too good in keeping you company, -have clubbed the prettiest Poem imaginable,<a name="FNanchor_114" id="FNanchor_114"></a><a href="#Footnote_114" class="fnanchor">[114]</a> and communicated -it to Mrs. Boscawen, with injunctions not to -give a copy of it; I suppose because you are ashamed -of having written a panegyric. Whenever you <em>do</em> -compose a satire, you are ready enough to publish it; -at least, whenever you do, you will din one to death -with it. But now, mind your perverseness: that very -pretty novel poem, and I must own it is charming, have -you gone and spoiled, flying in the faces of your best -friends the Muses, and keeping no <em>measures</em> with them.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> -I’ll be shot if they dictated two of the best lines with -two syllables too much in each—nay, you have weakened -one of them,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“‘Ev’n Gardiner’s mind’</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">is far more expressive than <em>steadfast</em> Gardiner’s; and, -as Mrs. Boscawen says, whoever knows anything of -Gardiner, could not want that superfluous epithet; and -whoever does not, would not be the wiser for your foolish -insertion—Mrs. Boscawen did not call it foolish, but I -do. The second line, as Mesdemoiselles the Muses -handed it to you, Miss, was,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“‘Have all be free and saved—’</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">not, ‘All be free and all be saved:’ the second <em>all be</em> is a -most unnecessary tautology. The poem was perfect -and faultless, if you could have let it alone. I wonder -how your mischievous flippancy could help maiming -that most new and beautiful expression, ‘sponge of -sins;’ I should not have been surprised, as you love -verses too full of feet, if you had changed it to ‘that -scrubbing-brush of sins.’</p> - -<p>“Well! I will say no more now: but if you do not -order me a copy of ‘Bonner’s Ghost’ incontinently, -never dare to look my printing-house in the face again. -Or come, I’ll tell you what; I will forgive all your -enormities if you will let me print your poem. I like -to filch a little immortality out of others, and the Strawberry -press could never have a better opportunity. I -will not haggle for the public; I will be content with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> -printing only two hundred copies, of which you shall -have half and I half. It shall cost you nothing but a -yes. I only propose this in case you do not mean to -print it yourself. Tell me sincerely which you like. -But as to not printing it at all, charming and unexceptionable -as it is, you cannot be so preposterous.</p> - -<p>“I by no means have a thought of detracting from -your own share in your own poem; but, as I do suspect -that it caught some inspiration from your perusal of -‘The Botanic Garden,’ so I hope you will discover that -<em>my</em> style is much improved by having lately studied -‘Bruce’s Travels.’ There I dipped, and not in St. -Giles’s Pound, where one would think this author had -been educated. Adieu! Your friend, or mortal foe, as -you behave on the present occasion.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Before the date of the last, the Misses Berry had set -out on a summer excursion. The following is in answer -to a letter from the elder:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Strawberry Hill, June 30, 1789.</p> - -<p>“Were there any such thing as sympathy at the -distance of two hundred miles, you would have been in -a mightier panic than I was; for, on Saturday se’nnight, -going to open the glass case in the Tribune, my foot -caught in the carpet, and I fell with my whole weight -(<i lang="fr">si</i> weight <i lang="fr">y a</i>) against the corner of the marble altar -on my side, and bruised the muscles so badly, that for -two days I could not move without screaming. I am -convinced I should have broken a rib, but that I fell on -the cavity whence two of my ribs were removed that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> -are gone to Yorkshire. I am much better both of my -bruise and of my lameness, and shall be ready to dance -at my own wedding when my wives return. And now -to answer your letter.</p> - -<p>“If you grow tired of the ‘Arabian Nights,’ you -have no more taste than Bishop Atterbury, who huffed -Pope for sending him them (or the ‘Persian Tales’), -and fancied he liked Virgil better, who had no more -imagination than Dr. Akenside. Read ‘Sinbad the -Sailor’s Voyages,’ and you will be sick of Æneas’s. -What woful invention were the nasty poultry that -spoiled his dinner, and ships on fire turned into Nereids! -A barn metamorphosed into a cascade in a pantomime -is full as sublime an effort of genius. I do not know -whether the ‘Arabian Nights’ are of Oriental origin or -not: I should think not, because I never saw any other -Oriental composition that was not bombast without -genius, and figurative without nature; like an Indian -screen, where you see little men on the foreground, and -larger men hunting tigers above in the air, which they -take for perspective. I do not think the Sultaness’s -narratives very natural or very probable, but there is a -wildness in them that captivates. However, if you -could wade through two octavos<a name="FNanchor_115" id="FNanchor_115"></a><a href="#Footnote_115" class="fnanchor">[115]</a> of Dame Piozzi’s -<em>though’s</em> and <em>so’s</em> and <em>I trow’s</em>, and cannot listen to seven -volumes of Scheherezade’s narrations, I will sue for a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> -divorce <i lang="la">in foro Parnassi</i>, and Boccalini shall be my -proctor. The cause will be a counterpart to the sentence -of the Lacedæmonian, who was condemned for breach -of the peace, by saying in three words what he might -have said in two.</p> - -<p>“So, you was not quite satisfied, though you ought to -have been transported, with King’s College Chapel, -because it has no aisles, like every common cathedral. -I suppose you would object to a bird of paradise, -because it has no legs, but shoots to heaven in a trail, -and does not rest on earth. Criticism and comparison -spoil many tastes. You should admire all bold and -unique essays that resemble nothing else; the ‘Botanic -Garden,’ the ‘Arabian Nights,’ and King’s Chapel are -above all rules: and how preferable is what no one can -imitate, to all that is imitated even from the best -models! Your partiality to the pageantry of popery I -do approve, and I doubt whether the world would not be -a loser (in its visionary enjoyments) by the extinction -of that religion, as it was by the decay of chivalry and -the proscription of the heathen deities. Reason has -no invention; and as plain sense will never be the -legislator of human affairs, it is fortunate when taste -happens to be regent.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>During the absence of his young favourites, he amuses -himself with visiting his neighbours, and grumbling at -his “customers,” as he called the strangers who came -to view his villa and grounds:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span></p><div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“Richmond is in the first request this summer. -Mrs. Bouverie is settled there with a large court. The -Sheridans are there, too, and the Bunburys. I have -been once with the first; with the others I am not -acquainted. I go once or twice a week to George -Selwyn late in the evening, when he comes in from -walking:—about as often to Mrs. Ellis here, and to -Lady Cecilia Johnston at Hampton; but all together -cannot contribute to an entertaining letter, and it is odd -to say that, though my house is all the morning full of -company, nobody lives so much alone. I have already -this season had between seventy and fourscore companies -to see my house; and half my time passes in -writing tickets or excuses. I wish I could think as an -old sexton did at King’s College. One of the fellows -told him he must get a great deal of money by showing -it: ‘Oh, no! master,’ replied he; ‘everybody has seen -it now.’ <em>My</em> companies, it seems, are more prolific, and -every set begets one or two more.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>About the same date, he writes to Mary and Agnes:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Strawberry Hill, Thursday evening, Aug. 27, 1789.</p> - -<p>“I jumped for joy; that is, my heart did, which is -all the remains of me that is <i lang="la">in statu jumpante</i>, at the -receipt of your letter this morning, which tells me you -approve of the house at Teddington. How kind you -was to answer so incontinently! I believe you borrowed -the best steed from the races. I have sent to -the landlord to come to me to-morrow: but I could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> -not resist beginning my letter to-night, as I am at home -alone, with a little pain in my left wrist; but the right -one has no brotherly feeling for it, and would not be -put off so. You ask how you have deserved such -attentions? Why, by deserving them; by every kind -of merit, and by that superlative one to me, your submitting -to throw away so much time on a forlorn -antique; you two, who, without specifying particulars, -(and you must at least be conscious that you are not -two frights) might expect any fortune and distinctions, -and do delight all companies. On which side lies the -wonder? Ask me no more such questions, or I will -cram you with reasons.…</p> - -<p class="right smaller">“Friday.</p> - -<p>“Well! I have seen him, and nobody was ever so -accommodating! He is as courteous as a candidate -for a county. You may stay in his house till Christmas -if you please, and shall pay but twenty pounds; and if -more furniture is wanting, it shall be supplied.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t bring me a pair of scissors from Sheffield. I -am determined nothing shall cut our loves, though I -should live out the rest of Methusalem’s term, as you -kindly wish, and as I can believe, though you are my -wives; for I am persuaded my Agnes wishes so too.—Don’t -you?”</p> - -</div> - -<p>The French Revolution was now in full progress: -the Bastile had been stormed and demolished; anarchy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> -reigned in Paris; châteaux in the provinces were being -plundered and burnt by the peasants; refugees, in terrified -crowds, were pouring over to England. Some of -the exiles presently found their way into Walpole’s -neighbourhood. “Madame de Boufflers,” he tells Lady -Ossory, “and the Comtesse Emilie, her daughter-in-law, -I hear, are come to London; and Woronzow, the -Russian Minister, who has a house at Richmond, is to -lend it to her for the winter, as her fortune has received -some considerable blow in the present commotions.” -Besides these foreigners, other important personages -had come or were coming into the district. The Duke -of Clarence had a house in the middle of Richmond -“with nothing but a green short apron to the river, a -situation only fit for an old gentlewoman who has put -out her knee-pans and loves cards. The Prince of -Wales has taken a somewhat better place at Roehampton, -and enters upon it at Christmas.” “My -Straw-Berries,” he adds, “are not yet returned, but I -expect them next week, and have found a house for -them at Teddington very near me.” A little later, he -writes, “My neighbour, the Duke of Clarence, is so -popular, that if Richmond were a borough, and he had -not attained his title, but still retained his idea of -standing candidate, he would certainly be elected there. -He pays his bills regularly himself, locks up his doors -at night, that his servants may not stay out late, and -never drinks but a few glasses of wine. Though the -value of crowns is mightily fallen of late at market, it -looks as if his Royal Highness thought they were still<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> -worth waiting for; nay, it is said that he tells his -brothers that he shall be king before either—that is -fair at least.”<a name="FNanchor_116" id="FNanchor_116"></a><a href="#Footnote_116" class="fnanchor">[116]</a></p> - -<p>In July, 1790, Walpole is alarmed by the intelligence -that the Berrys have arranged to make a long visit to -Italy. He writes to Miss Berry, then at the sea with -her sister:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“I feel all the kindness of your determination of -coming to Twickenham in August, and shall certainly -say no more against it, though I am certain that I -shall count every day that passes; and when <em>they are -passed</em>, they will leave a melancholy impression on Strawberry, -that I had rather have affixed to London. The -two last summers were infinitely the pleasantest I ever -passed here, for I never before had an agreeable -neighbourhood. Still I loved the place, and had no -comparisons to draw. Now, the neighbourhood will -remain, and will appear ten times worse; with the -aggravation of remembering <em>two months</em> that may have -some transient roses, but, I am sure, lasting thorns. -You tell me I do not write with my usual spirits: at -least I will suppress, as much as I can, the want of -them, though I am a bad dissembler.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>The months pass, and we have the following farewell -letter:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span></p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Sunday, Oct. 10, 1790. The day of your departure.</p> - -<p>“Is it possible to write to my beloved friends, and -refrain from speaking of my grief for losing you; though -it is but the continuation of what I have felt ever -since I was stunned by your intention of going abroad -this autumn? Still I will not tire you with it often. -In happy days I smiled, and called you my dear -wives: now I can only think on you as darling children -of whom I am bereaved! As such I have loved -and do love you; and, charming as you both are, I -have had no occasion to remind myself that I am past -seventy-three. Your hearts, your understandings, -your virtues, and the cruel injustice of your fate,<a name="FNanchor_117" id="FNanchor_117"></a><a href="#Footnote_117" class="fnanchor">[117]</a> -have interested me in everything that concerns you; -and so far from having occasion to blush for any -unbecoming weakness, I am proud of my affection for -you, and very proud of your condescending to pass so -many hours with a very old man, when everybody -admires you, and the most insensible allow that your -good sense and information (I speak of both) have -formed you to converse with the most intelligent of our -sex as well as your own; and neither can tax you with -airs of pretension or affectation. Your simplicity and -natural ease set off all your other merits—all these<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> -graces are lost to me, alas! when I have no time to -lose.</p> - -<p>“Sensible as I am to my loss, it will occupy but part -of my thoughts, till I know you safely landed, and -arrived safely at Turin. Not till you are there, and I -learn so, will my anxiety subside and settle into steady, -selfish sorrow. I looked at every weathercock as I -came along the road to-day, and was happy to see -everyone point north-east. May they do so to-morrow!</p> - -<p>“I found here the frame for Wolsey,<a name="FNanchor_118" id="FNanchor_118"></a><a href="#Footnote_118" class="fnanchor">[118]</a> and to-morrow -morning Kirgate<a name="FNanchor_119" id="FNanchor_119"></a><a href="#Footnote_119" class="fnanchor">[119]</a> will place him in it; and then I shall -begin pulling the little parlour to pieces, that it may be -hung anew to receive him. I have also obeyed Miss -Agnes, though with regret; for, on trying it, I found -her Arcadia would fit the place of the picture she condemned, -which shall therefore be hung in its room; -though the latter should give way to nothing else, nor -shall be laid aside, but shall hang where I shall see it -almost as often. I long to hear that its dear paintress -is well; I thought her not at all so last night. You -will tell me the truth, though she in her own -case, and in that alone, allows herself mental reservation.</p> - -<p>“Forgive me for writing nothing to-night but about -you two and myself. Of what can I have thought else? -I have not spoken to a single person but my own<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> -servants since we parted last night. I found a message -here from Miss Howe<a name="FNanchor_120" id="FNanchor_120"></a><a href="#Footnote_120" class="fnanchor">[120]</a> to invite me for this evening. -Do you think I have not preferred staying at home to -write to you, as this must go to London to-morrow -morning by the coach to be ready for Tuesday’s post? -My future letters shall talk of other things, whenever I -know anything worth repeating; or perhaps any trifle, -for I am determined to forbid myself lamentations that -would weary you; and the frequency of my letters will -prove there is no forgetfulness. If I live to see you -again, you will then judge whether I am changed; but -a friendship so rational and so pure as mine is, and so -equal for both, is not likely to have any of the fickleness -of youth, when it has none of its other ingredients. It -was a sweet consolation to the short time that I may -have left, to fall into such a society; no wonder then -that I am unhappy at that consolation being abridged. -I pique myself on no philosophy, but what a long use -and knowledge of the world had given me—the philosophy -of indifference to most persons and events. I do -pique myself on not being ridiculous at this very late -period of my life; but when there is not a grain of -passion in my affection for you two, and when you both -have the good sense not to be displeased at my telling -you so, (though I hope you would have despised me for -the contrary,) I am not ashamed to say that your loss is -heavy to me; and that I am only reconciled to it by -hoping that a winter in Italy, and the journeys and sea<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> -air, will be very beneficial to two constitutions so delicate -as yours. Adieu! my dearest friends. It would -be tautology to subscribe a name to a letter, every line -of which would suit no other man in the world but the -writer.”</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</h2> - -<div class="summary"> - -<p>Walpole’s love of English Scenery.—Richmond Hill.—Burke on -the French Revolution.—The Berrys at Florence.—Death of -George Selwyn.—London Solitude.—Repairs at Cliveden.—Burke -and Fox.—The Countess of Albany.—Journal of a Day.—Mrs. -Hobart’s Party.—Ancient Trade with India.—Lady Hamilton.—A -Boat Race.—Return of the Berrys.—Horace succeeds -to the Peerage.—Epitaphium Vivi Auctoris.—His Wives.—Mary -Berry.—Closing Years.—Love of Moving Objects.—Visit -from Queen Charlotte.—Death of Conway.—Final Illness of -Horace.—His Last Letter.</p> - -</div> - -<p>It cannot, we fear, be said with truth that Walpole -had much eye for the greater beauties of nature. -When he recalls the travels of his youth, it is on the -Gallery at Florence and the Fair of Reggio that his -memory dwells, rather than on his ride to the Grande -Chartreuse or his visit to Naples. But of the modest -charms of English scenery he had a real and thorough -enjoyment. The enthusiasm expressed in his Essay -on “Modern Gardening” has a more genuine ring -about it than is often found in his writings. In reading -it, one does not doubt that his praises of “the rich -blue prospects of Kent, the Thames-watered views in -Berkshire, and the magnificent scale of nature in Yorkshire,” -were something more than compliments to -friends who happened to have seats in those districts.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> -Yet there was one spot which he admired more than -even these captivating scenes. At the bottom of his -heart, he was persuaded that no stream in the world -could compare with his own reaches of the Thames, -nor any mountain or hill with Richmond Hill. And -what he believed in his heart, he was not always slow -to proclaim with mouth and pen. Thus in describing -the effects of a tempest, he writes: “The greatest ruin -is at my nephew Dysart’s at Ham, where five-and-thirty -of the old elms are blown down. I think it is no -loss, as I hope now one shall see the river from the -house. He never would cut a twig to see the most -beautiful scene upon earth.” Again, after visiting -Oatlands, then recently purchased by the Duke of -York, Horace says: “I am returned to my own -Thames with delight, and envy none of the princes of -the earth.” He sneers bitterly at Mr. Gilpin, who -“despised the richness, verdure, amenity of Richmond -Hill, when he had seen rocks and lakes in the north; -for size and distance of place add wonderfully to loveliness.” -And when he is trying to coax his Straw-Berries -home from Florence, he tells them there is not an acre -on the banks of the Thames that should vail the bonnet -to Boboli. With the exception of an occasional visit -paid during the absence of these ladies to Conway -at Henley, the six last summers and autumns of -Walpole’s life seem to have been spent almost uninterruptedly -at Twickenham. Some little time after -Mrs. Clive’s death, Cliveden, or Little Strawberry Hill, -was let for a short time to Sir Robert Goodere; but it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> -seems that, before his young friends left England, -Horace had determined, on their return, to give Miss -Berry and her sister this house for their lives, that he -might have them constantly near him. The design -succeeded. Mary and Agnes became attached to the -place; it continued to be their country residence for -many years; and when, after surviving their aged admirer -for more than half a century, they died, both -unmarried, within a few months of each other, they were -buried in one grave in Petersham churchyard, opposite -Twickenham, “amidst scenes,” as their epitaph records, -“which in life they had frequented and loved.”</p> - -<p>After despatching the farewell letter given at the end -of our last chapter, Walpole lingered at Strawberry Hill, -consoling himself with the society of Richmond, and -with Burke’s “Reflections on the Revolution in -France.” The shock of that earthquake had already -made him half a Tory, and he welcomed the great -orator’s declamation with delight. “His pamphlet,” -he tells Miss Berry, “came out this day se’nnight, and -is far superior to what was expected, even by his -warmest admirers. I have read it twice, and though -of three hundred and fifty pages, I wish I could repeat -every page by heart. It is sublime, profound, and -gay. The wit and satire are equally brilliant; and the -whole is wise, though in some points he goes too far; -yet in general there is far less want of judgment than -could be expected from <em>him</em>. If it could be translated, -which, from the wit and metaphors and allusions, is -almost impossible, I should think it would be a classic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> -book in all countries, except in <em>present</em> France. To -their tribunes it speak daggers; though, unlike them, -it uses none. Seven thousand copies have been taken -off by the booksellers already, and a new edition is -preparing. I hope you will see it soon.” In a subsequent -letter to both his favourites, dated Strawberry -Hill, Nov. 27, 1790, he says: “I am still here: the -weather, though very rainy, is quite warm; and I have -much more agreeable society at Richmond, with small -companies and better hours, than in town, and shall -have till after Christmas, unless great cold drives me -thither.” Two days later, having heard of the arrival -of the Berrys at Florence, he writes to Agnes:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“Though I write to both at once, and reckon your -letters to come equally from both, yet I delight in -seeing your hand with a pen as well as with a pencil, -and you express yourself as well with the one as with -the other. Your part in that which I have been so -happy as to receive this moment, has singularly obliged -me, by your having saved me the terror of knowing you -had a torrent to cross after heavy rain. No cat is so -afraid of water for herself, as I am grown to be for you. -That panic, which will last for many months, adds to -my fervent desire of your returning early in the autumn, -that you may have neither fresh water nor the ‘silky’ -ocean to cross in winter. Precious as our insular -situation is, I am ready to wish with the Frenchman, -that you could somehow or other get to it by land,—‘Oui, -c’est une isle toujours, je le sçais bien; mais, par<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> -exemple, en allant d’alentour, n’y auroit-il pas moyen -d’y arriver par terre?’…</p> - -<p>“Richmond, my metropolis, flourishes exceedingly. -The Duke of Clarence arrived at his palace there last -night, between eleven and twelve, as I came from Lady -Douglas. His eldest brother and Mrs. Fitzherbert -dine there to-day with the Duke of Queensberry, as his -Grace, who called here this morning, told me, on the -very spot where lived Charles the First, and where are -the portraits of his principal courtiers from Cornbury. -Queensberry has taken to that palace at last, and has -frequently company and music there in an evening. -I intend to go.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>He was detained in the country longer than he had -intended by an attack of gout; on his return to town -he announces his recovery to Lady Ossory.</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Berkeley Square, Jan. 28, 1791.</p> - -<p>“You and Lord Ossory have been so very good to -me, Madam, that I must pay you the first tribute of -my poor reviving fingers—I believe they never will be -their own men again; but as they have lived so long in -your Ladyship’s service, they shall show their attachment -to the last, like Widdrington on his stumps. I -have had another and grievous memento, the death of -poor Selwyn! His end was lovely, most composed and -rational. From eight years old I had known him intimately -without a cloud between us; few knew him so -well, and consequently few knew so well the goodness -of his heart and nature. But I will say no more—<i lang="fr">Mon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> -Chancelier vous dira le reste.</i><a name="FNanchor_121" id="FNanchor_121"></a><a href="#Footnote_121" class="fnanchor">[121]</a>—No, my chancellor shall -put an end to the session, only concluding, as Lord -Bacon would have done for King James, with an -apologue, ‘His Majesty’s recovery has turned the -corner, and exceeding the old fable, has proved that the -stomach can do better without the limbs than they -could without him.’”</p> - -</div> - -<p>About the same date he describes his life in London -to the Berrys:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“I wish that complaining of people for abandoning me -were an infallible recipe for bringing them <em>back</em>! but I -doubt it will not do in acute cases. To-day, a few -hours after writing the latter part of this, appeared Mr. -Batt.<a name="FNanchor_122" id="FNanchor_122"></a><a href="#Footnote_122" class="fnanchor">[122]</a> He asked many pardons, and I easily forgave -him; for the <em>mortification</em> was not begun. He asked -much after you both. I had a crowd of visits besides; -but they all come past two o’clock, and sweep one -another away before any can take root. My evenings -are solitary enough, for I ask nobody to come; nor, -indeed, does anybody’s evening begin till I am going to -bed. I have outlived daylight as well as my contemporaries. -What have I not survived? The Jesuits and -the monarchy of France! and both without a struggle! -Semiramis seems to intend to add Constantinople to -the mass of revolutions; but is not her permanence -almost as wonderful as the contrary explosions! I -wish—I wish we may not be actually flippancying ourselves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span> -into an embroil with that Ursa-major of the -North Pole. What a vixen little island are we, if we -fight with the Aurora Borealis and Tippoo Saib at the -end of Asia at the same time! You, damsels, will be -like the end of the conundrum,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“‘You’ve seen the man who saw these wondrous sights.’</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>“I cannot finish this with my own hand, for the gout -has returned a little into my right arm and wrist, and I -am not quite so well as I was yesterday; but I had -said my say, and have little to add. The Duchess of -Gordon, t’other night, coming out of an assembly, said -to Dundas, ‘Mr. Dundas, you are used to speak in -public; will you call my servant?’… Adieu! I will -begin to write again myself as soon as I can.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>In the middle of March he wrote from Strawberry -Hill to Miss Berry: “As I have mended considerably -for the last four days, and as we have had a fortnight -of soft warm weather, and a south-west wind to-day, I -have ventured hither for a change of air, and to give -orders about some repairs at Cliveden; which, by the -way, Mr. Henry Bunbury, two days ago, proposed to -take off my hands for his life. I really do not think I -accepted his offer.” All the spring he vibrates between -London and Twickenham. He writes again from the -latter place to Miss Berry towards the end of April:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“To-day, when the town is staring at the sudden -resignation of the Duke of Leeds,<a name="FNanchor_123" id="FNanchor_123"></a><a href="#Footnote_123" class="fnanchor">[123]</a> asking the reason,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> -and gaping to know who will succeed him, I am come -hither with an indifference that might pass for philosophy; -as the true cause is not known, which it seldom -is. Don’t tell Europe; but I really am come to look at -the repairs of Cliveden, and how they go on; not without -an eye to the lilacs and the apple-blossoms: for even -<em>self</em> can find a corner to wriggle into, though friendship -may fit out the vessel. Mr. Berry may, perhaps, wish I -had more political curiosity; but as I must return -to town on Monday for Lord Cholmondeley’s wedding, -I may hear before the departure of the post, if the seals -are given.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Among the letters written to Miss Berry from town -during this season, one gives an account of the famous -quarrel between Burke and Fox in the House of -Commons:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“Mr. Fox had most imprudently thrown out a -panegyric on the French Revolution. His most considerable -friends were much hurt, and protested to him -against such sentiments. Burke went much farther, -and vowed to attack these opinions. Great pains were -taken to prevent such altercation, and the Prince of -Wales is said to have written a dissuasive letter to -Burke; but he was immovable; and on Friday, on the -Quebec Bill, he broke out, and sounded a trumpet -against the plot, which he denounced as carrying on -here. Prodigious clamours and interruption arose from -Mr. Fox’s friends; but he, though still applauding the -French, burst into tears and lamentations on the loss of -Burke’s friendship, and endeavoured to make atonement;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> -but in vain, though Burke wept too. In short, -it was the most affecting scene possible; and undoubtedly -an <em>unique</em> one, for both the commanders were -earnest and <em>sincere</em>.<a name="FNanchor_124" id="FNanchor_124"></a><a href="#Footnote_124" class="fnanchor">[124]</a> Yesterday, a second act was -expected; but mutual friends prevailed, that the contest -should not be renewed: nay, on the same Bill, Mr. -Fox made a profession of his faith, and declared he -would venture his life in support of the <em>present</em> constitution -by Kings, Lords, and Commons. In short, I never -knew a wiser dissertation, if the newspapers deliver it -justly; and I think all the writers in England cannot -give more profound sense to Mr. Fox than he possesses. -I know no more particulars, having seen nobody this -morning yet.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Another refers to the trial of Hastings, and sundry -matters of public interest:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span></p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“After several weeks spent in search of precedents -for trials<a name="FNanchor_125" id="FNanchor_125"></a><a href="#Footnote_125" class="fnanchor">[125]</a> ceasing or not on a dissolution of Parliament, -the Peers on Monday sat till three in the morning on -the report; when the Chancellor and Lord Hawkesbury -fought for the cessation, but were beaten by a -large majority; which showed that Mr. Pitt has more -weight (at present) in that House too, than—the diamonds -of Bengal. Lord Hawkesbury protested. The -trial recommences on Monday next, and has already -cost the public fourteen thousand pounds; the accused, -I suppose, much more.</p> - -<p>“The Countess of Albany<a name="FNanchor_126" id="FNanchor_126"></a><a href="#Footnote_126" class="fnanchor">[126]</a> is not only in England, in -London, but at this very moment, I believe, in the -palace of St. James’s—not restored by as rapid a revolution -as the French, but, as was observed last night at -supper at Lady Mount-Edgcumbe’s, by that topsy-turvy-hood -that characterises the present age. Within -these two months the Pope has been burnt at Paris; -Madame du Barry, mistress of Louis Quinze, has dined -with the Lord Mayor of London, and the Pretender’s -widow is presented to the Queen of Great Britain! She -is to be introduced by her great-grandfather’s niece, the -young Countess of Aylesbury. That curiosity should -bring her hither, I do not quite wonder—still less, that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> -she abhorred her husband; but methinks it is not very -well-bred to his family, nor very sensible; but a new -way of <em>passing eldest</em>.<a name="FNanchor_127" id="FNanchor_127"></a><a href="#Footnote_127" class="fnanchor">[127]</a></p> - -<p class="right smaller">“Thursday night.</p> - -<p>“Well! I have had an exact account of the interview -of the two Queens, from one who stood close to -them. The Dowager was announced as Princess of -Stolberg. She was well-dressed, and not at all embarrassed. -The King talked to her a good deal; but -about her passage, the sea, and general topics: the -Queen in the same way, but less. Then she stood -between the Dukes of Gloucester and Clarence, and -had a good deal of conversation with the former; who, -perhaps, may have met her in Italy. Not a word between -her and the Princesses; nor did I hear of the -Prince; but he was there, and probably spoke to her. -The Queen looked at her earnestly. To add to the -singularity of the day, it is the Queen’s birth-day. -Another odd accident: at the Opera at the Pantheon, -Madame d’Albany was carried into the King’s box, and -sat there. It is not of a piece with her going to Court, -that she seals with the royal arms.…</p> - -<p>“Boswell has at last published his long-promised -‘Life of Dr. Johnson,’ in two volumes in quarto. I -will give you an account of it when I have gone through -it. I have already perceived, that in writing the history -of Hudibras, Ralpho has not forgot himself—nor will -others, I believe, forget <em>him</em>!”</p> - -</div> - -<p>The next is also to Miss Berry:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span></p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Berkeley Square, May 26, 1791.</p> - -<p>“I am rich in letters from you: I received that by -Lord Elgin’s courier first, as you expected, and its elder -the next day. You tell me mine entertain you; <i lang="fr">tant -mieux</i>. It is my wish, but my wonder; for I live so -little in the world, that I do not know the present -generation by sight: for, though I pass by them in the -streets, the hats with valences, the folds above the chin -of the ladies, and the dirty shirts and shaggy hair of the -young men, who have levelled nobility almost as much -as the mobility of France have, have confounded all -individuality. Besides, if I did go to public places and -assemblies, which my going to roost earlier prevents, -the bats and owls do not begin to fly abroad till far in -the night, when they begin to see and be seen. However, -one of the empresses of fashion, the Duchess of -Gordon, uses fifteen or sixteen hours of her four-and-twenty. -I heard her journal of last Monday. She -first went to Handel’s music in the Abbey; she then -clambered over the benches, and went to Hastings’s -trial in the Hall; after dinner, to the play; then to -Lady Lucan’s assembly; after that to Ranelagh, and -returned to Mrs. Hobart’s faro-table; gave a ball herself -in the evening of that morning, into which she -must have got a good way; and set out for Scotland the -next day. Hercules could not have achieved a quarter -of her labours in the same space of time.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Before the middle of June he is settled at Twickenham. -He condoles with the Berrys:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span></p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Strawberry Hill, June 14, 1791.</p> - -<p>“I pity you! what a dozen or fifteen uninteresting -letters are you going to receive! for here I am, unlikely -to have anything to tell you worth sending. You had -better come back incontinently—but pray do not prophesy -any more; you have been the death of our -summer, and we are in close mourning for it in coals -and ashes. It froze hard last night: I went out for a -moment to look at my haymakers, and was starved. -The contents of an English June are, hay and ice, -orange-flowers and rheumatisms! I am now cowering -over the fire. Mrs. Hobart had announced a rural -breakfast at Sans-Souci last Saturday; nothing being -so pastoral as a fat grandmother in a row of houses on -Ham Common. It rained early in the morning: she -despatched post-boys, for want of Cupids and zephyrs, -to stop the nymphs and shepherds who tend their -flocks in Pall Mall and St. James’s Street; but half of -them missed the couriers and arrived. Mrs. Montagu -was more splendid yesterday morning, and breakfasted -seven hundred persons on opening her great room, and -the room with the hangings of feathers.<a name="FNanchor_128" id="FNanchor_128"></a><a href="#Footnote_128" class="fnanchor">[128]</a> The King -and Queen had been with her last week. I should like -to have heard the orations she had prepared on the -occasion. I was neither City-mouse nor Country-mouse. -I did dine at Fulham on Saturday with the -Bishop of London [Porteus]. Mrs. Boscawen, Mrs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> -Garrick, and Hannah More were there; and Dr. -Beattie, whom I had never seen. He is quiet, simple, -and cheerful, and pleased me. There ends my tale, -this instant Tuesday! How shall I fill a couple of -pages more by Friday morning! Oh! ye ladies on the -Common, and ye uncommon ladies in London, have -pity on a poor gazetteer, and supply me with eclogues -or royal panegyrics! Moreover—or rather more under—I -have had no letter from you these ten days, though -the east wind has been as constant as Lord Derby.<a name="FNanchor_129" id="FNanchor_129"></a><a href="#Footnote_129" class="fnanchor">[129]</a> I -say not this in reproach, as you are so kindly punctual; -but as it stints me from having a single paragraph -to answer. I do not admire specific responses to -every article; but they are great resources on a -dearth.</p> - -<p>“Madame de Boufflers is ill of a fever, and the -Duchesse de Biron goes next week to Switzerland;—<i lang="fr">mais -qu’est que cela vous fait?</i>”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“June 23, 1791.</p> - -<p>“Woe is me! I have not an atom of news to send you, -but that the second edition of Mother Hubbard’s Tale -[Mrs. Hobart’s party] was again spoiled on Saturday -last by the rain; yet she had an ample assemblage of -company from London and the neighbourhood. The -late Queen of France, Madame du Barry, was there; -and the late Queen of England, Madame d’Albany, -was not. The former, they say, is as much altered as -her kingdom, and does not retain a trace of her former<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> -powers. I saw her on a throne in the chapel of Versailles; -and though then pleasing in face and person, I -thought her <i lang="fr">un peu passée</i>.</p> - -<p>“What shall I tell you more? that Lord Hawkesbury -is added to the Cabinet-Council—<i lang="fr">que vous importe</i>? -and that Dr. Robertson has published a ‘Disquisition -into the Trade of the Ancients with India;’ a sensible -work—but that will be no news to you till you return. -It was a peddling trade in those days. They now and -then picked up an elephant’s tooth, or a nutmeg, or -one pearl, that served Venus for a pair of pendants, -when Antony had toasted Cleopatra in a bumper of its -fellow; which shows that a couple was imported: but, -alack! the Romans were so ignorant, that waiters from -the Tres Tabernæ, in St. Apollo’s Street, did not -carry home sacks of diamonds enough to pave the -Capitol—I hate exaggerations, and therefore I do not -say, to pave the Appian Way. One author, I think, -does say, that the wife of Fabius Pictor, whom he sold -to a Proconsul, did present Livia<a name="FNanchor_130" id="FNanchor_130"></a><a href="#Footnote_130" class="fnanchor">[130]</a> with an ivory bed, -inlaid with Indian gold; but, as Dr. Robertson does -not mention it, to be sure he does not believe the fact -well authenticated.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 490px;" id="illus7"> - -<img src="images/illus7.jpg" width="490" height="650" alt="" /> - -<p class="caption-credit"><i>Sir Joshua Reynolds. Pinx.</i> <span class="caption-center"><i>A. Dawson. Ph. Sc.</i></span> <i>J. Raphael Smith. Sc.</i></p> - -<p class="caption-main"><i>Mrs. Montagu.</i></p> - -</div> - -<p>In one of our last extracts, Walpole refers to some -of the French exiles, who were now assembled in large -numbers at Richmond. Shortly afterwards came the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> -news of the escape and recapture of the French King -and Queen. Horace writes, “I have been very much -with the wretched fugitives at Richmond. To them it -is perfect despair; besides trembling for their friends -at Paris!” Nevertheless, their distresses did not -prevent them from taking part in the gaieties of -Richmond:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Berkeley Square, Tuesday, Aug. 23, 1791.</p> - -<p>“On Saturday evening I was at the Duke of -Queensberry’s (at Richmond, <i lang="fr">s’entend</i>) with a small -company: and there were Sir William Hamilton -and Mrs. Harte;<a name="FNanchor_131" id="FNanchor_131"></a><a href="#Footnote_131" class="fnanchor">[131]</a> who, on the 3rd of next month, -previous to their departure, is to be made Madame -l’Envoyée à Naples, the Neapolitan Queen having promised -to receive her in that quality. Here she cannot -be presented, where only such over-virtuous wives as -the Duchess of Kingston and Mrs. Hastings—who -could go with a husband in each hand—are admitted. -Why the Margravine of Anspach, with the same pretensions, -was not, I do not understand; perhaps she -did not attempt it. But I forget to retract, and make -<i lang="fr">amende honorable</i> to Mrs. Harte. I had only heard of -her attitudes; and those, in dumb show, I have not -yet seen. Oh! but she sings admirably; has a very -fine, strong voice; is an excellent buffa, and an -astonishing tragedian. She sung Nina in the highest -perfection; and there her attitudes were a whole -theatre of grace and various expressions.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span></p> - -<p>“The next evening I was again at Queensberry -House, where the Comtesse Emilie de Boufflers played -on her harp, and the Princesse di Castelcigala, the Neapolitan -minister’s wife, danced one of her country -dances, with castanets, very prettily, with her husband. -Madame du Barry was there too, and I had a good -deal of frank conversation with her about Monsieur de -Choiseul; having been at Paris at the end of his reign -and at the beginning of hers, and of which I knew so -much by my intimacy with the Duchesse de Choiseul.</p> - -<p>“On Monday was the boat-race. I was in the -great room at the Castle, with the Duke of Clarence, -Lady Di, Lord Robert Spencer, and the House of -Bouverie, to see the boats start from the bridge to -Thistleworth, and back to a tent erected on Lord -Dysart’s meadow, just before Lady Di’s windows; -whither we went to see them arrive, and where we had -breakfast. For the second heat, I sat in my coach on -the bridge; and did not stay for the third. The day -had been coined on purpose, with my favourite south-east -wind. The scene, both up the river and down, -was what only Richmond upon earth can exhibit. -The crowds on those green velvet meadows and on the -shores, the yachts, barges, pleasure and small boats, -and the windows and gardens lined with spectators, -were so delightful, that when I came home from that -vivid show, I thought Strawberry looked as dull and -solitary as a hermitage. At night there was a ball at -the Castle, and illuminations, with the Duke’s cypher, -etc., in coloured lamps, as were the houses of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> -Royal Highness’s tradesmen. I went again in the -evening to the French ladies on the Green, where -there was a bonfire; but, you may believe, not to the -ball.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>At the end of September, Walpole writes to Hannah -More:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“I thank you most cordially for your inquiry after -<em>my</em> wives. I am in the utmost perplexity of mind about -them; torn between hopes and fears. I believe them -set out from Florence on their return since yesterday -se’ennight, and consequently feel all the joy and impatience -of expecting them in five or six weeks: but -then, besides fears of roads, bad inns, accidents, heats -and colds, and the sea to cross in November at last, all -my satisfaction is dashed by the uncertainty whether -they come through Germany or France. I have advised, -begged, implored, that it may not be through -those Iroquois, Lestryons, Anthropophagi, the Franks; -and then, hearing passports were abolished, and the -roads more secure, I half consented, as they wished it, -and the road is much shorter; and then I repented, and -have contradicted myself again. And now I know not -which route they will take; nor shall enjoy any comfort -from the thoughts of their return, till they are returned -safe.</p> - -<p>“I am happy at and honour Miss Burney’s resolution -in casting away golden, or rather gilt chains: others, -out of vanity, would have worn them till they had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> -eaten into the bone. On that charming young woman’s -chapter<a name="FNanchor_132" id="FNanchor_132"></a><a href="#Footnote_132" class="fnanchor">[132]</a> I agree with you perfectly.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Shortly after the date of the last letter, the Berrys -were back in England. Their stay in Italy, which had -been determined partly by motives of economy, was -shortened in consequence of Walpole’s eagerness for -their return. In his anxiety, he entreated them to -draw on his bankers in case of any financial difficulty; -and in November, 1791, he had the satisfaction of -installing them at Little Strawberry Hill. This was -not accomplished without some vexation both to him -and them. An ill-natured rumour, which found its way<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> -into the newspapers, attributing the attachment shown -by the Berry family for Walpole to interested motives, -aroused the indignation of Miss Berry, and for the -moment threatened to produce an estrangement. The -cloud, however, blew over: the intimacy was resumed, -and in a subsequent letter to the sisters, the old man -expresses his gratitude at finding that they could bear -to pass half their time with an antediluvian without discovering -any ennui or disgust.</p> - -<p>Almost immediately after he had recovered the -Berrys, Walpole became Earl of Orford by the death -of his nephew. He refers to this event, and his feelings -respecting it, in the following letter to Lady -Ossory:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Berkeley Square, Dec. 10, 1791.</p> - -<p>“Your Ladyship has so long accustomed me to your -goodness and partiality, that I am not surprised at your -being kind on an occasion that is generally productive -of satisfaction. That is not quite the case with me. -Years ago, a title would have given me no pleasure, and -at any time the management of a landed estate, which -I am too ignorant to manage, would have been a -burthen. That I am now to possess, should it prove a -considerable acquisition to my fortune, which I much -doubt, I would not purchase at the rate of the three -weeks of misery which I have suffered, and which -made me very ill, though I am now quite recovered. -It is a story much too full of circumstances, and too -disagreeable to me to be couched in a letter; some time -or other I may perhaps be at leisure and composed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> -enough to relate in general.—At present I have been so -overwhelmed with business that I am now writing these -few lines as fast as I can, to save the post, as none goes -to-morrow, and I should be vexed not to thank your -Ladyship and Lord Ossory by the first that departs. -As, however, I owe it to you and to my poor nephew, I -will just say that I am perfectly content. He has given -me the whole Norfolk estate, heavily charged, I believe, -but that is indifferent. I had reason to think that he -had disgraced, by totally omitting me—but unhappy as -his intellects often were, and beset as he was by miscreants, -he has restored me to my birth-right, and I -shall call myself obliged to him, and be grateful to his -memory, as I am to your Ladyship, and shall be, as I -have so long been, your devoted servant, by whatever -name I may be forced to call myself.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>This letter has no signature. The writer for some -time rarely used his new title when he could avoid it. -Some of his letters after his succession to the peerage -are signed “the late H. W.,” and some, “the uncle of -the late Earl of Orford.” In 1792, he wrote the following -“Epitaphium vivi Auctoris:”</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“An estate and an earldom at seventy-four!</div> -<div class="verse">Had I sought them or wished them ’twould add one fear more,</div> -<div class="verse">That of making a countess when almost fourscore.</div> -<div class="verse">But Fortune, who scatters her gifts out of season,</div> -<div class="verse">Though unkind to my limbs, has still left me my reason,</div> -<div class="verse">And whether she lowers or lifts me I’ll try,</div> -<div class="verse">In the plain simple style I have lived in, to die:</div> -<div class="verse">For ambition too humble, for meanness too high.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>He could not escape the suspicion of having meditated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> -the folly referred to in these lines. His much -talked of devotion to his “sweet damsels” rendered -this impossible. There is a tradition, handed down -by the Lord Lansdowne of the last generation, that -he would have gone through the ceremony of marriage -with either sister, to make sure of their society, and -confer rank and fortune on the family; as he had the -power of charging the Orford estate with a jointure of -£2,000 a year. There is just so much evidence in support -of this story that he does appear to have avowed -in society his readiness to do this for Mary Berry, who -was clearly the object of his preference. But he does -not seem to have ever made any such proposal to her, -nor even to have spoken to her on the subject. In a -letter to a friend written at the time, Miss Berry says: -“Although I have no doubt that Lord Orford said to -Lady D. every word that she repeated—for last winter, -at the time the C’s.<a name="FNanchor_133" id="FNanchor_133"></a><a href="#Footnote_133" class="fnanchor">[133]</a> talked about the matter, he went -about saying all this and more to everybody that would -hear him—but I always thought it rather to frighten -and punish them than seriously wishing it himself. -And why should he? when, without the ridicule or the -trouble of a marriage, he enjoys almost as much of -my society, and every comfort from it, that he could -in the nearest connexion?” Walpole was almost certainly -of the same opinion as Miss Berry. He would -have shrunk from the lasting stigma of a marriage, -though he was content to bear passing jests which, -perhaps, the attention of his young friends rendered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> -even agreeable. In May, 1792, he writes to Lady -Ossory:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“I am indeed much obliged for the transcript of the -letter on my ‘Wives.’ Miss Agnes has a <i lang="fr">finesse</i> in her -eyes and countenance that does not propose itself to -you, but is very engaging on observation, and has often -made herself preferred to her sister, who has the most -exactly fine features, and only wants colour to make her -face as perfect as her graceful person; indeed neither -has good health nor the air of it. Miss Mary’s eyes -are grave, but she is not so herself; and, having much -more application than her sister, she converses readily, -and with great intelligence, on all subjects. Agnes is -more reserved, but her compact sense very striking, and -always to the purpose. In short, they are extraordinary -beings, and I am proud of my partiality for them; and -since the ridicule can only fall on me, and not on -them, I care not a straw for its being said that I am in -love with one of them—people shall choose which: it -is as much with both as either, and I am infinitely too -old to regard the <i lang="fr">qu’en dit on</i>.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Nothing could be more sentimental than Walpole’s -language to and about these ladies, but his admiration -and regard for them were rational enough. There -was no dotage in the praises he lavished on their attractions -and accomplishments. However much of their -first social success may have been due to him, they -proved able to perpetuate and extend it by their -personal qualities alone, without the aid of large fortune -or family connexion. And the tenor of his latest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span> -letters seems to show that this old man of the world -derived benefit as well as amusement from their conversation. -Their refinement and unpresuming moral -worth were perhaps the highest influences to which -his worn brain and heart were susceptible. One cannot -help remarking that the respect with which he treats -Mary Berry is a much stronger feeling than that which -he displays for Hannah More. Though a good deal -younger, Miss Berry had travelled more, and seen -more of society, than the excellent schoolmistress from -the West of England; and with this more varied experience -came wider sympathies and larger toleration. -Madam Hannah’s fervent desires for the improvement -of her friends, though always manifest, were not always -accompanied by skill to make her little homilies acceptable. -Her letters to Walpole betray some consciousness -of a deficiency in this respect, and her embarrassment -was not lost upon “the pleasant Horace,” as she -called her correspondent. He complained of the too -great civility and cold complimentality of her style. -The lady of Cowslip Green, who dedicated small -poems to him, adorned her letters with literary allusions, -and dropped occasional hints for his benefit, was -always, in his eyes, a blue-stocking; and this the ladies -of Cliveden never were. He was incessantly divided -between his wish to treat the elder lady with deference, -and a mischievous inclination to startle her notions of -propriety. When he is tempted to transgress, he -checks himself in some characteristic phrase: “I could -titter <i lang="fr">à plusieurs reprises</i>; but I am too old to be improper,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> -and you are too modest to be <em>impropered</em> to.” -But the temptation presently returns. In short, Walpole -subscribed to Miss More’s charities, echoed her -denunciations of the slave-trade, applauded her Cheap -Repository Tracts, and was ever Saint Hannah’s most -sincere friend and humble servant; but he could not -help indemnifying himself now and then by a smile at -her effusive piety and bustling benevolence. On the -other hand, the entire and unqualified respect which -Lord Orford entertained for Miss Berry’s abilities and -character was shown, not merely by the particular -expressions of affection and esteem so profusely -scattered through his letters to her, and by the whole -tone of the correspondence between them, but still -more decisively by the circumstance that he entrusted -to her the care of preparing a posthumous edition of -his works, and bequeathed to her charge all necessary -papers for that purpose. This he did in fact, for -though in his will he appointed her father<a name="FNanchor_134" id="FNanchor_134"></a><a href="#Footnote_134" class="fnanchor">[134]</a> as his -editor, it was well understood that that was merely a -device to avoid the publication of her name, and the -task was actually performed by her alone.</p> - -<p>During the rest of Walpole’s life, three-fourths of -each year were spent by him in constant association -with the Berrys either at Twickenham or in London. -The months which they employed in visits to other -friends or to watering-places, he passed for the most -part at Strawberry Hill, sending forth constant letters<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span> -to Yorkshire, Cheltenham, Broadstairs, or where-ever -else his wives might be staying. He laughs at -his own assiduity. “I put myself in mind of a scene -in one of Lord Lansdowne’s plays, where two ladies -being on the stage, and one going off, the other says, -‘Heaven, she is gone! Well, I must go and write to -her.’ This was just my case yesterday.” The postman -at Cheltenham complained of being broken down -by the continual arrival of letters from Twickenham. -At other times, Walpole’s pen was now comparatively -idle. When in town, he beguiled the hours as best he -could with the customers who still resorted to his -coffee-house to discuss the news of the day. But he -generally preferred his villa till quite the end of -autumn. “What could I do with myself in London?” -he asks Miss Berry. “All my playthings are here, -and I have no playfellows left there! Reading composes -little of my pastime either in town or country. -A catalogue of books and prints, or a dull history of a -county, amuse me sufficiently; for now I cannot open -a French book, as it would keep alive ideas that I -want to banish from my thoughts.” At Strawberry, -accordingly, he remained, trifling with his endless -store of medals and engravings, and watching from -his windows the traffic up and down the Thames. He -has expressed his fondness for moving objects in a -passage dated in December, 1793:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“I am glad Lord and Lady Warwick are pleased -with their new villa [at Isleworth]: it is a great -favourite with me. In my brother’s time [Sir Edward<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> -W.’s] I used to sit with delight in the bow-window in -the great room, for besides the lovely scene of Richmond, -with the river, park, and barges, there is an -incessant ferry for foot passengers between Richmond -and Isleworth, just under the Terrace; and on Sundays -Lord Shrewsbury pays for all the Catholics that come -to his chapel from the former to the latter, and Mrs. -Keppel has counted an hundred in one day, at a penny -each. I have a passion for seeing passengers, provided -they do pass; and though I have the river, the road, -and two foot-paths before my Blue Room at Strawberry, -I used to think my own house dull whenever I came -from my brother’s. Such a partiality have I for -moving objects, that in advertisements of country-houses -I have thought it a recommendation when -there was a N.B. of <em>three stage-coaches pass by the door -every day</em>. On the contrary, I have an aversion to a -park, and especially for a walled park, in which the -capital event is the coming of the cows to water. A -park-wall with ivy on it and fern near it, and a back -parlour in London in summer, with a dead creeper and -a couple of sooty sparrows, are my strongest ideas of -melancholy solitude. <em>A pleasing melancholy</em> is a very -august personage, but not at all good company.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>This love of life and society clung to him till the end. -Notwithstanding his crippled condition, he entertained -the Duchess of York at Strawberry Hill in the autumn -of 1793, and received a visit from Queen Charlotte -there as late as the summer of 1795. He was probably<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span> -honest in disclaiming all vanity at being the poorest -Earl in England. When pressed by Lady Ossory to -take his seat in the House of Peers, he replied: “I -know that having determined never to take that -unwelcome seat, I should only make myself ridiculous -by fancying it could <em>signify</em> a straw whether I take it -or not. If I have anything of character, it must dangle -on my being consistent. I quitted and abjured Parliament -near twenty years ago: I never repented, and I -will not contradict myself now.” If, however, there -was any occasion on which his earldom gave him -pleasure, it was undoubtedly when the Seneschal of -Strawberry Castle was to do homage to Royal guests. -Referring to Macaulay’s taunt that Walpole had the -soul of a gentleman usher, Miss Berry remarks that -the critic only repeated what Lord Orford often said -of himself, that from his knowledge of old ceremonials -and etiquettes he was sure that in a former state of -existence he must have been a gentleman usher about -the time of Elizabeth. Walpole sends Conway a -brief account of the Queen’s visit:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Strawberry Hill, July 2, 1795.</p> - -<p>“As you are, or have been, in town, your daughter -[Mrs. Damer] will have told you in what a bustle I am, -preparing, not to visit, but to receive an invasion of -royalties to-morrow; and cannot even escape them, -like Admiral Cornwallis, though seeming to make a -semblance; for I am to wear a sword, and have appointed -two aides-de-camp, my nephews, George and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span> -Horace Churchill. If I <em>fall</em>, as ten to one but I do, -to be sure it will be a superb tumble, at the feet of a -Queen and eight daughters of Kings: for, besides the -six Princesses, I am to have the Duchess of York and -the Princess of Orange! Woe is me, at seventy-eight, -and with scarce a hand and foot to my back! Adieu!</p> - -<p class="center">“Yours, etc.,</p> - -<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">A Poor Old Remnant</span>.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“July 7, 1795.</p> - -<p>“I am not dead of fatigue with my Royal visitors, -as I expected to be, though I was on my poor lame -feet three whole hours. Your daughter, who kindly -assisted me in doing the honours, will tell you the -particulars, and how prosperously I succeeded. The -Queen was uncommonly condescending and gracious, -and deigned to drink my health when I presented -her with the last glass, and to thank me for all my -attentions. Indeed, my memory <i lang="fr">de la vieille cour</i> was -but once in default. As I had been assured that her -Majesty would be attended by her Chamberlain, yet -was not, I had no glove ready when I received her -at the step of her coach; yet she honoured me with her -hand to lead her upstairs; nor did I recollect my -omission when I led her down again. Still, though -gloveless, I did not squeeze the royal hand, as Vice-Chamberlain -Smith did to Queen Mary.”<a name="FNanchor_135" id="FNanchor_135"></a><a href="#Footnote_135" class="fnanchor">[135]</a></p> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span></p> - -<p>Conway died suddenly two days after the date of the -last letter. He had received the truncheon of a Field-Marshall -less than two years before. Like his old -friend Horace, he attained the last distinction of his -life when he was too old to enjoy it. Horace lingered -on twenty months longer in constantly increasing -debility. In the latter part of December, 1796, he was -seen to be sinking, and his friends prevailed on him to -remove from Strawberry Hill to Berkeley Square, to -be nearer assistance in case of any sudden seizure. -The account of his last days is thus given by Miss -Berry: “When not immediately suffering from pain, -his mind was tranquil and cheerful. He was still -capable of being amused, and of taking some part in -conversation; but during the last weeks of his life, -when fever was superadded to his other ills, his mind -became subject to the cruel hallucination of supposing -himself neglected and abandoned by the only persons -to whom his memory clung, and whom he always -desired to see. In vain they recalled to his recollection -how recently they had left him, and how short had -been their absence; it satisfied him for the moment, -but the same idea recurred as soon as he had lost -sight of them. At last nature, sinking under the -exhaustion of weakness, obliterated all ideas but those -of mere existence, which ended without a struggle on -the 2nd of March, 1797.”</p> - -<p>Horace Walpole’s last letter was addressed, as was -fitting, to Lady Ossory, then almost the sole survivor -of his early friends:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span></p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right smaller">“Jan. 15, 1797.</p> - -<p class="noindent">“<span class="smcap">My dear Madam</span>,—</p> - -<p>“You distress me infinitely by showing my idle -notes, which I cannot conceive can amuse anybody. -My old-fashioned breeding impels me every now and -then to reply to the letters you honour me with writing, -but in truth very unwillingly, for I seldom can have -anything particular to say; I scarce go out of my own -house, and then only to two or three private places, -where I see nobody that really knows anything, and -what I learn comes from newspapers, that collect intelligence -from coffee-houses; consequently what I -neither believe nor report. At home I see only a few -charitable elders, except about four-score nephews and -nieces of various ages, who are each brought to me -about once a year, to stare at me as the Methusaleh of -the family, and they can only speak of their own contemporaries, -which interest me no more than if they -talked of their dolls, or bats and balls. Must not the -result of all this, Madam, make me a very entertaining -correspondent? And can such letters be worth showing? -or can I have any spirit when so old, and reduced -to dictate?</p> - -<p>“Oh! my good Madam, dispense with me from such -a task, and think how it must add to it to apprehend -such letters being shown. Pray send me no more such -laurels, which I desire no more than their leaves when -decked with a scrap of tinsel, and stuck on twelfth-cakes -that lie on the shop-boards of pastrycooks at -Christmas. I shall be quite content with a sprig of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span> -rosemary thrown after me, when the parson of the -parish commits my dust to dust. Till then, pray, -Madam, accept the resignation of your</p> - -<p class="right">“Ancient Servant,<br /> -“<span class="smcap">Orford</span>.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>Besides numerous portraits of Horace Walpole, we -have two pen-and-ink sketches of him, one by Miss -Hawkins, the other by Pinkerton. The lady describes<a name="FNanchor_136" id="FNanchor_136"></a><a href="#Footnote_136" class="fnanchor">[136]</a> -him as she knew him before 1772: “His figure was -not merely tall, but more properly long and slender to -excess; his complexion, and particularly his hands, of -a most unhealthy paleness. His eyes were remarkably -bright and penetrating, very dark and lively; his -voice was not strong, but his tones were extremely -pleasant.… I do not remember his common gait; -he always entered a room in that style of affected -delicacy which fashion had then made almost natural: -<i lang="fr">chapeau bas</i> between his hands, as if he wished to compress -it, or under his arm; knees bent, and feet on -tiptoe, as if afraid of a wet floor. His dress in visiting -was most usually, in summer, when I most saw him, -a lavender suit, the waistcoat embroidered with a little -silver, or of white silk worked in the tambour; partridge -silk stockings, and gold buckles; ruffles and frill, -generally lace. I remember, when a child, thinking -him very much under-dressed, if at any time, except in -mourning, he wore hemmed cambric. In summer no -powder, but his wig combed straight, and showing his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> -very smooth, pale forehead, and queued behind; in -winter, powder.”</p> - -<p>Miss Hawkins, who was recording in her old age the -impressions of her girlhood, is clearly mistaken as to -the height of Walpole’s figure. Pinkerton paints him -as he was at a later period, and adds several details of -his domestic habits. We give the main part of the -antiquary’s description,<a name="FNanchor_137" id="FNanchor_137"></a><a href="#Footnote_137" class="fnanchor">[137]</a> and generally in his own words: -The person of Horace Walpole was short and slender, -but compact and neatly formed. When viewed from -behind, he had somewhat of a boyish appearance, -owing partly to the simplicity of his dress. His laugh -was forced and uncouth, and his smile not the most -pleasing. His walk was enfeebled by the gout, which -not only affected his feet, but attacked his hands to -such a degree that his fingers were always swelled and -deformed, and discharged large chalk-stones once or -twice a year. When at Strawberry Hill, he generally -rose about nine o’clock, and appeared in the breakfast-room, -his favourite Blue Room overlooking the -Thames. His approach was proclaimed, and attended, -by a favourite little dog, the legacy of the Marquise du -Deffand; and which ease and attention had rendered so -fat that it could hardly move. The dog had a liberal -share of his breakfast; and as soon as the meal was -over, Walpole would mix a large basinful of bread -and milk, and throw it out of the window for the -squirrels, who presently came down from the high trees -to enjoy their allowance. Dinner was served in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> -small parlour, or large dining-room, as it happened; -in winter, generally the former. His valet supported -him downstairs; and he ate most moderately of -chicken, pheasant, or any light food. Pastry he disliked, -as difficult of digestion, though he would taste a -morsel of venison pie. Never but once that he drank -two glasses of white wine,<a name="FNanchor_138" id="FNanchor_138"></a><a href="#Footnote_138" class="fnanchor">[138]</a> did Pinkerton see him taste -any liquor, except ice-water. A pail of ice was -placed under the table, in which stood a decanter of -water, from which he supplied himself with his -favourite beverage. If his guests liked even a -moderate quantity of wine, they must have called for -it during dinner, for almost instantly after he rang the -bell to order coffee upstairs. Thither he would pass -about five o’clock; and generally resuming his place -on the sofa, would sit till two o’clock in the morning, -in miscellaneous chit-chat, full of singular anecdotes, -strokes of wit, and acute observations, occasionally -sending for books or curiosities, or passing to the -library, as any reference happened to arise in conversation. -After his coffee he tasted nothing; but -the snuff-box of <i lang="fr">tabac d’étrennes</i>, from Fribourg’s, was -not forgotten, and was replenished from a canister -lodged in an ancient marble urn of great thickness, -which stood in the window-seat, and served to secure -its moisture and rich flavour. Such was a private -rainy day of Horace Walpole. The forenoon quickly -passed in roaming through the numerous apartments<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span> -of the house, in which, after twenty visits, still something -new would occur; and he was indeed constantly -adding fresh acquisitions. Sometimes a walk in the -grounds would intervene, on which occasions he would -go out in his slippers through a thick dew; and he -never wore a hat.<a name="FNanchor_139" id="FNanchor_139"></a><a href="#Footnote_139" class="fnanchor">[139]</a> He said that, on his first visit to -Paris, he was ashamed of his effeminacy, when he saw -every little meagre Frenchman, whom even he could -have thrown down with a breath, walking without a -hat, which he could not do without a certainty of that -disease which the Germans say is endemical in -England, and is termed by the nation <i lang="fr">le catch-cold</i>. -The first trial cost him a slight fever, but he got over -it, and never caught cold afterwards: draughts of -air, damp rooms, windows open at his back, all situations -were alike to him in this respect. He would -even show some little offence at any solicitude expressed -by his guests on such an occasion; and would -say, with a half smile of seeming crossness, “My back -is the same with my face, and my neck is like my -nose.”</p> - -<p class="titlepage">THE END.</p> - -<p class="center">BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD AND LONDON.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<h2>FOOTNOTES</h2> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1" id="Footnote_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> “The Letters of Horace Walpole, Earl of Orford, edited by -Peter Cunningham.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2" id="Footnote_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> A second edition was published in 1866.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3" id="Footnote_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> <i>E.g.</i>, in Jesse’s “Memoirs of George III.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4" id="Footnote_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Or in 1732, if the dates of some letters published in <cite>Notes and -Queries</cite>, 4th Series, vol. iii., p. 2, can be trusted. But as the -second of these letters, the date of which is given as Sep. 18, 1732, -refers to the death of Walpole’s mother, and as we know, from his -own statement, that Lady Walpole died Aug. 20, 1737, there seems -to be an error.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5" id="Footnote_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> The story that Horace was of Hervey blood was first published -in some Introductory Anecdotes prefixed to the later editions of -the works of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu. These anecdotes were -contributed by Lady Louisa Stuart, daughter of Lord Bute, the -Prime Minister, and grand-daughter of Lady Mary. Her statement -about Walpole, though generally accepted, has perhaps received -more credit than it deserves, but <i lang="it">se non è vero, è ben trovato</i>. The -similarity, both in matter and composition, between the memoirs -of Lord Hervey and those of Horace Walpole is certainly remarkable.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_6" id="Footnote_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Born in July, 1719. He was second son of the first Lord -Conway by his third wife, Charlotte Shorter, sister of Lady Walpole. -He was Secretary in Ireland during the vice-royalty of -William, fourth Duke of Devonshire; then Groom of the Bedchamber -to George II. and to George III.; became Secretary of -State in 1765; Lieutenant-General of the Ordnance in 1770; -Commander-in-Chief in 1782; and was created a Field-Marshal in -1793. He married the Dowager Countess of Aylesbury, by whom -he had an only child, Mrs. Damer, the sculptor, to whom Walpole -left Strawberry Hill.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_7" id="Footnote_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> One of his papers in <cite>The World</cite> contains an account of an -escape which he had, in 1749, of being shot by highwaymen in -Hyde Park. His face was grazed by a ball from the pistol of one -of his assailants, which went off accidentally before aim had been -taken. An allusion to this adventure will be found in one of our -extracts.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_8" id="Footnote_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> Letter to John Pinkerton, Dec. 26, 1791.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_9" id="Footnote_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> “I have been called a Republican; I never was quite that.”—Walpole -to Lady Ossory, July 7, 1782.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_10" id="Footnote_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> Letter to Mann, July 10, 1782.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_11" id="Footnote_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> Letter to Lady Ossory, July 7, 1782.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_12" id="Footnote_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> Miss Berry.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_13" id="Footnote_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> Letter to Sir Horace Mann.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_14" id="Footnote_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> Letter to Sir Horace Mann, July 1, 1762.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_15" id="Footnote_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> Son of Brigadier-General Edward Montagu, and nephew to -the second Earl of Halifax. He was member of Parliament for -Northampton, usher of the Black Rod in Ireland during the lieutenancy -of the Earl of Halifax, ranger of Salsey Forest, and private -secretary to Lord North when Chancellor of the Exchequer.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_16" id="Footnote_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> Had Chatterton appealed simply to Walpole’s charity, he -would not have been rejected. This was the opinion of those who -knew Horace best. But, apart from the imposture sought to be -palmed on him, Walpole did not profess to be a patron of literature -or the arts. An artist has pencils, he would say, and an -author has pens, and the public must reward them as it sees fit.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_17" id="Footnote_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> Thus described by Walpole in his account of the pictures at -Houghton: “The Virgin and Child, a most beautiful, bright, and -capital picture, by Dominichino: bought out of the Zambeccari -Palace at Bologna by Horace Walpole, junior.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_18" id="Footnote_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> The Princess of Campoflorido.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_19" id="Footnote_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> Lord Orford’s successor as Chancellor of the Exchequer.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_20" id="Footnote_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> When he [Kilmarnock] beheld the fatal scaffold covered with -black cloth; the executioner, with his axe and his assistants; the -saw-dust, which was soon to be drenched with his blood; the -coffin, prepared to receive the limbs which were yet warm with -life; above all, the immense display of human countenances which -surrounded the scaffold like a sea, all eyes being bent on the sad -object of the preparation,—his natural feelings broke forth in a -whisper to the friend on whose arm he leaned, “Home, this is -terrible!” No sign of indecent timidity, however, affected his behaviour.—<cite>Sir -Walter Scott’s Tales of my Grandfather.</cite></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_21" id="Footnote_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> Afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury. Walpole had a strong -and unreasonable prejudice against him.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_22" id="Footnote_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> Thomas Sherlock, Master of the Temple; first, Bishop of -Salisbury, and afterwards of London.—<span class="smcap">Walpole.</span></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_23" id="Footnote_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> She was daughter of the Duke of Grafton.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_24" id="Footnote_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_24"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> His gait was so singular, that he was called Peter Shamble.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_25" id="Footnote_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_25"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> Mrs. Lloyd of Spring Gardens, to whom the Earl of Haddington -was married this year.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_26" id="Footnote_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_26"><span class="label">[26]</span></a> An Irish adventurer, whose fine person had induced the -Dowager Duchess of Manchester to marry him. He was afterwards -created Earl of Beaulieu. O’Brien, it seems, was even taller -than Hussey.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_27" id="Footnote_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_27"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> Walpole had given this Chinese name to a pond of gold-fish at -Strawberry Hill.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_28" id="Footnote_28"></a><a href="#FNanchor_28"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> It was written by Mrs. Halket of Wardlaw. Mr. Lockhart -states, that on the blank leaf of his copy of Allan Ramsay’s “Evergreen,” -Sir Walter Scott has written, “Hardyknute was the first -poem that I ever learnt, the last that I shall forget.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_29" id="Footnote_29"></a><a href="#FNanchor_29"><span class="label">[29]</span></a> The “Siege of Aquileia,” a tragedy, by John Home, produced -at Drury Lane, 21st February, 1760.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_30" id="Footnote_30"></a><a href="#FNanchor_30"><span class="label">[30]</span></a> The living of Coxwold, in Yorkshire.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_31" id="Footnote_31"></a><a href="#FNanchor_31"><span class="label">[31]</span></a> “My flatterers here are all mutes. The oaks, the beeches, the -chestnuts, seem to contend which best shall please the Lord of the -Manor. They cannot deceive, they will not lie.”—<cite>Sir Robert Walpole -to General Churchill</cite>, Houghton, June 24th, 1743.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_32" id="Footnote_32"></a><a href="#FNanchor_32"><span class="label">[32]</span></a> “Queen Charlotte had always been if not ugly, at least ordinary, -but in her later years her want of personal charms became of course -less observable, and it used to be said that she was grown better -looking. I one day said something to this effect to Colonel Disbrowe, -her Chamberlain. ‘Yes,’ replied he, ‘I do think that the -<em>bloom</em> of her ugliness is going off.’”—<span class="smcap">Croker.</span></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_33" id="Footnote_33"></a><a href="#FNanchor_33"><span class="label">[33]</span></a> “The recluse life led here at Richmond, which is carried to -such an excess of privacy and economy, that the Queen’s friseur -waits on them at dinner, and that four pounds only of beef are -allowed for their soup, disgusts all sorts of people.”—<cite>Walpole to -Lord Hertford, Sep. 9, 1764.</cite></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_34" id="Footnote_34"></a><a href="#FNanchor_34"><span class="label">[34]</span></a> Walpole was thinking of an anecdote he had told in a previous -letter. “The old Maréchale de Villars gave a vast dinner -[at Paris] to the Duchess of Bedford. In the middle of the dessert, -Madame de Villars called out, ‘Oh dear! they have forgot! yet I -bespoke them, and I am sure they are ready; you English love hot -rolls—bring the rolls.’ There arrived a huge dish of hot rolls, and -a sauce-boat of melted butter.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_35" id="Footnote_35"></a><a href="#FNanchor_35"><span class="label">[35]</span></a> “The Duc de Nivernois [the French ambassador] called here -the other day in his way from Hampton Court; but, as the most -sensible French never have eyes to see anything, unless they see it -every day and see it in fashion, I cannot say he flattered me much, -or was much struck with Strawberry. When I carried him into the -Cabinet, which I have told you is formed upon the idea of a Catholic -chapel, he pulled off his hat, but perceiving his error, he said, -‘<i lang="fr">Ce n’est pas une chapelle pourtant</i>,’ and seemed a little displeased.”—<cite>Walpole -to Mann, April 30, 1763.</cite></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_36" id="Footnote_36"></a><a href="#FNanchor_36"><span class="label">[36]</span></a></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse indent10">“Esher’s peaceful grove</div> -<div class="verse">Where Kent and Nature vie for Pelham’s love.”—<cite>Pope.</cite></div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse indent14">“Esher’s groves,</div> -<div class="verse">Where, in the sweetest solitude, embraced</div> -<div class="verse">By the soft windings of the silent Mole,</div> -<div class="verse">From courts and senates Pelham finds repose.”—<cite>Thomson.</cite></div> -</div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_37" id="Footnote_37"></a><a href="#FNanchor_37"><span class="label">[37]</span></a> Mrs. Anne Pitt, sister of Lord Chatham.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_38" id="Footnote_38"></a><a href="#FNanchor_38"><span class="label">[38]</span></a> Miss Chudleigh.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_39" id="Footnote_39"></a><a href="#FNanchor_39"><span class="label">[39]</span></a> Afterwards Dukes of Gloucester and Cumberland.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_40" id="Footnote_40"></a><a href="#FNanchor_40"><span class="label">[40]</span></a> The old Bedlam stood in Moorfields.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_41" id="Footnote_41"></a><a href="#FNanchor_41"><span class="label">[41]</span></a> The substance of this petition, and the grave answer which the -King was advised to give to such a ludicrous appeal, are preserved -in the <cite>Gentleman’s Magazine</cite> for 1765, p. 95; where also we learn -that Mr. Walpole’s idea of the Carpenters’ petition was put in -practice, and his Majesty was humbly entreated to wear a wooden -leg himself, and to enjoin all his servants to do the same. It may, -therefore, be presumed that this <i lang="fr">jeu d’esprit</i> was from the pen of -Mr. Walpole.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_42" id="Footnote_42"></a><a href="#FNanchor_42"><span class="label">[42]</span></a> “Their women are the first in the world in everything but -beauty; sensible, agreeable, and infinitely informed. The <i lang="fr">philosophes</i>, -except Buffon, are solemn, arrogant, dictatorial coxcombs—I -need not say superlatively disagreeable.”—<cite>Walpole to Mann.</cite></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_43" id="Footnote_43"></a><a href="#FNanchor_43"><span class="label">[43]</span></a> He alludes to his Roman Eagle at Strawberry Hill.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_44" id="Footnote_44"></a><a href="#FNanchor_44"><span class="label">[44]</span></a> The installation of the Duke of Grafton as Chancellor of the -University of Cambridge. Gray wrote the Ode for the occasion.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_45" id="Footnote_45"></a><a href="#FNanchor_45"><span class="label">[45]</span></a> The proceedings of the House of Commons against Wilkes -had just produced a Ministerial crisis.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_46" id="Footnote_46"></a><a href="#FNanchor_46"><span class="label">[46]</span></a> Maria Walpole, Countess Dowager of Waldegrave, who had -now secretly married William Henry, Duke of Gloucester.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_47" id="Footnote_47"></a><a href="#FNanchor_47"><span class="label">[47]</span></a> Sons of Francis, Earl of Hertford, Mr. Walpole’s cousin-german.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_48" id="Footnote_48"></a><a href="#FNanchor_48"><span class="label">[48]</span></a> Mr. Walpole’s nephews.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_49" id="Footnote_49"></a><a href="#FNanchor_49"><span class="label">[49]</span></a> The Pantheon.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_50" id="Footnote_50"></a><a href="#FNanchor_50"><span class="label">[50]</span></a> In the comedy of “The Provoked Husband.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_51" id="Footnote_51"></a><a href="#FNanchor_51"><span class="label">[51]</span></a> Benjamin West, afterwards, at Sir Joshua’s death, President of -the Royal Academy of Arts.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_52" id="Footnote_52"></a><a href="#FNanchor_52"><span class="label">[52]</span></a> Lady Anne Howard, daughter of Henry, fourth Earl, and sister -of Frederick, fifth Earl of Carlisle.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_53" id="Footnote_53"></a><a href="#FNanchor_53"><span class="label">[53]</span></a> The Temple of Friendship, like the ruins in the Campo Vaccino, -is reduced to a single column at Stowe.—<cite>Walpole to Crauford, 6th -March, 1766.</cite></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_54" id="Footnote_54"></a><a href="#FNanchor_54"><span class="label">[54]</span></a> ‘He dropped me, partly from politics and partly from caprice, -for we never had any quarrel; but he was grown an excessive -humourist, and had shed almost all his friends as well as me. He -had parts, and infinite vivacity and originality till of late years; and -it grieved me much that he had changed towards me after a friendship -of between thirty and forty years.’ This is Walpole’s account -written to Cole the day after Montagu’s death. But Montagu’s last -letter to Walpole, dated October 6, 1770, is cordial and even -affectionate in tone; while in Walpole’s preceding letter there are -some signs of pique, and the letter from Horace which ends the -correspondence is both short and cold.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_55" id="Footnote_55"></a><a href="#FNanchor_55"><span class="label">[55]</span></a> He means Gloucester House.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_56" id="Footnote_56"></a><a href="#FNanchor_56"><span class="label">[56]</span></a> ‘I went to the House of Commons the other day to hear -Charles Fox, contrary to a resolution I had made of never setting -my foot there again. It is strange how disuse makes one awkward. -I felt a palpitation, as if I were going to speak there myself. The -object answered: Fox’s abilities are amazing at so very early a -period, especially under the circumstances of such a dissolute life. -He was just arrived from Newmarket, had sat up drinking all night, -and had not been in bed. How such talents make one laugh at -Tully’s rules for an orator, and his indefatigable application! His -laboured orations are puerile in comparison with this boy’s manly -reason.’—<cite>Walpole to Mann, April 9, 1772.</cite></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_57" id="Footnote_57"></a><a href="#FNanchor_57"><span class="label">[57]</span></a> Walpole’s playful name for Little Strawberry Hill, a cottage -near his villa, and belonging to him, which he gave to Mrs. Clive, -the actress, for her life.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_58" id="Footnote_58"></a><a href="#FNanchor_58"><span class="label">[58]</span></a> Mrs. Clive’s brother, who lived with her.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_59" id="Footnote_59"></a><a href="#FNanchor_59"><span class="label">[59]</span></a> A new singer who attained great celebrity.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_60" id="Footnote_60"></a><a href="#FNanchor_60"><span class="label">[60]</span></a> A comedy by Hugh Kelly.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_61" id="Footnote_61"></a><a href="#FNanchor_61"><span class="label">[61]</span></a> Lady Louisa Fitzpatrick, Lord Ossory’s sister, afterwards married -to the Earl of Shelburne.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_62" id="Footnote_62"></a><a href="#FNanchor_62"><span class="label">[62]</span></a> The period of the year when Lady Ossory left Ampthill for -Farming Woods.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_63" id="Footnote_63"></a><a href="#FNanchor_63"><span class="label">[63]</span></a> His quitting Parliament.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_64" id="Footnote_64"></a><a href="#FNanchor_64"><span class="label">[64]</span></a> Lord Clive, in fact, cut his throat, as Walpole, correcting himself, -mentions in a postscript to this letter.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_65" id="Footnote_65"></a><a href="#FNanchor_65"><span class="label">[65]</span></a> In 1760, Walpole wrote: “General Clive is arrived, all over -estates and diamonds. If a beggar asks charity, he says, ‘Friend, -I have no small brilliants about me.’”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_66" id="Footnote_66"></a><a href="#FNanchor_66"><span class="label">[66]</span></a> They poisoned Pope Ganganelli.—<span class="smcap">Walpole.</span></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_67" id="Footnote_67"></a><a href="#FNanchor_67"><span class="label">[67]</span></a> “Who knows but that hereafter some traveller like myself will -sit down upon the banks of the Seine, the Thames, or the Zuyder -Zee?… Who knows but that he will sit down solitary amid silent -ruins?” etc.—Volney’s <cite>Ruins</cite>.</p> - -<p>“When London shall be an habitation of bitterns, when St. Paul’s -and Westminster Abbey shall stand, shapeless and nameless ruins, -in the midst of an unpeopled marsh; … some Transatlantic -commentator will be weighing … the respective merits of the -Bells and the Fudges, and their historians.”—Shelley, <cite>Dedication to -Peter Bell the Third</cite>.</p> - -<p>The rest are still more remote.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_68" id="Footnote_68"></a><a href="#FNanchor_68"><span class="label">[68]</span></a> Walpole, as well as Macaulay, repeats himself: “Nations at -the acme of their splendour, or at the eve of their destruction, are -worth observing. When they grovel in obscurity afterwards, they -furnish neither events nor reflections; strangers visit the vestiges of -the Acropolis, or may come to dig for capitals among the ruins of St. -Paul’s; but nobody studies the manners of the pedlars and banditti -that dwell in mud huts within the precincts of a demolished temple.”—<cite>Letter -to Mason, dated May 12, 1778, first published in 1851.</cite></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_69" id="Footnote_69"></a><a href="#FNanchor_69"><span class="label">[69]</span></a> Thomas, second Lord Lyttelton; he had been at Florence.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_70" id="Footnote_70"></a><a href="#FNanchor_70"><span class="label">[70]</span></a> Thomas Lennard Barret; his wife was sister of Lord Camden.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_71" id="Footnote_71"></a><a href="#FNanchor_71"><span class="label">[71]</span></a> The lady’s dog, which, on her death, passed into the care of -Walpole.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_72" id="Footnote_72"></a><a href="#FNanchor_72"><span class="label">[72]</span></a> This picture, by Sir Joshua Reynolds, was painted for Mr. -Rigby. The attitude of Miss Vernon is, as Walpole here says, -affected. That of Lord William Russell illustrates the genius of -Sir Joshua. The story is told, that the boy was unwilling to stand -still for his portrait, and running about the room, crouched in a -corner to avoid it. Sir Joshua, at once seizing the possibility of -painting him so, said, “Well, stay there, my little fellow,” and -drew him in a natural position of fear at the dragon.—<span class="smcap">R. Vernon -Smith</span> (afterwards <span class="smcap">Lord Lyveden</span>).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_73" id="Footnote_73"></a><a href="#FNanchor_73"><span class="label">[73]</span></a> ‘I forgot to tell you that the town of Birmingham has petitioned -the Parliament to enforce the American Acts, that is, make war; -for they have a manufacture of swords and muskets.’—<span class="smcap">Walpole -to Mann</span>, Jan. 27th, 1775.</p> - -<p>‘Is it credible that five or six of the great <em>trading</em> towns have -presented addresses against the Americans?—<span class="smcap">Same to Same</span>, Oct. -10, 1775. The writer tries to persuade himself that these addresses -were procured by ‘those boobies, the country gentlemen.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_74" id="Footnote_74"></a><a href="#FNanchor_74"><span class="label">[74]</span></a> The Lady Louisa Fitzpatrick before referred to.—<cite>See p. 131.</cite></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_75" id="Footnote_75"></a><a href="#FNanchor_75"><span class="label">[75]</span></a> Horace’s nephew, the mad earl.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_76" id="Footnote_76"></a><a href="#FNanchor_76"><span class="label">[76]</span></a> The Prince was now in his eighteenth year, having been born -on the 12th of August, 1762.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_77" id="Footnote_77"></a><a href="#FNanchor_77"><span class="label">[77]</span></a> The Duke was in disgrace with the King on account of his -marriage.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_78" id="Footnote_78"></a><a href="#FNanchor_78"><span class="label">[78]</span></a> Referring to a rumour that he had been appointed ambassador -to Spain.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_79" id="Footnote_79"></a><a href="#FNanchor_79"><span class="label">[79]</span></a> An Act passed in 1778 relaxing the penal laws against Roman -Catholics.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_80" id="Footnote_80"></a><a href="#FNanchor_80"><span class="label">[80]</span></a> Count Haslang, Minister from the Elector of Bavaria: he had -been here from the year 1740.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_81" id="Footnote_81"></a><a href="#FNanchor_81"><span class="label">[81]</span></a> Mademoiselle Fagniani, Selwyn’s adopted daughter.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_82" id="Footnote_82"></a><a href="#FNanchor_82"><span class="label">[82]</span></a> Walpole’s printer.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_83" id="Footnote_83"></a><a href="#FNanchor_83"><span class="label">[83]</span></a> Author of an “Essay on Prints,” the third edition of which he -dedicated to Horace Walpole.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_84" id="Footnote_84"></a><a href="#FNanchor_84"><span class="label">[84]</span></a> Afterwards Sir Nathaniel William Wraxall, Bart., known by his -“Memoirs of His Own Life.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_85" id="Footnote_85"></a><a href="#FNanchor_85"><span class="label">[85]</span></a> This was the second Exhibition at Somerset House. The first -was in May, 1780.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_86" id="Footnote_86"></a><a href="#FNanchor_86"><span class="label">[86]</span></a> On the 7th of June, Mr. Fox moved for leave to bring in a bill -to amend the Act of the 26th of George II., for preventing clandestine -marriages. The bill passed the Commons, but was rejected by -the Lords.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_87" id="Footnote_87"></a><a href="#FNanchor_87"><span class="label">[87]</span></a> “Mr. Fox never had much intimate intercourse with Horace -Walpole; did not, I think, like him at all; had no opinion of his -judgment or conduct; probably had imbibed some prejudice against -him, for his ill-usage of his father; and certainly entertained an -unfavourable, and even unjust, opinion of his abilities as a writer.” -So says Lord Vassall-Holland in one of the passages from his pen -printed in Russell’s Memorials of Fox. See vol. i., p. 276. It may -be mentioned here, that Lord Holland’s Collections for the Life of -Fox, which are contained in the work just referred to, include -numerous extracts from manuscript papers of Horace Walpole. -“These papers, the property of Lord Waldegrave, were lent to -me,” says Lord Holland, “and have been long in my possession.” -That the manuscripts to which Lord Holland thus had access comprised -the portion of Walpole’s correspondence with Mann, which -was first published in 1843, appears by several passages which his -lordship quotes from these letters. Is it possible that this circumstance -may furnish a solution of the ethnological question, to -which we have adverted on p. 141, as to the descent of Macaulay’s -New Zealander from Walpole’s Peruvian? From 1831 Macaulay -had been an <i lang="fr">habitué</i> of Holland House. Trevelyan’s “Life of Lord -Macaulay,” vol. i. p. 176, et seq.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_88" id="Footnote_88"></a><a href="#FNanchor_88"><span class="label">[88]</span></a> An ordinance of the Great-Duke against high head-dresses.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_89" id="Footnote_89"></a><a href="#FNanchor_89"><span class="label">[89]</span></a> A neighbour at Twickenham.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_90" id="Footnote_90"></a><a href="#FNanchor_90"><span class="label">[90]</span></a> There can be no doubt that Horace about this time, as on -former occasions, had dreamed of seeing Conway in the position of -Prime Minister. The General had taken a prominent part in -the last attacks upon Lord North, and when the latter gave -place to Lord Rockingham’s second Administration, the services -of the former were requited by the office of Commander-in-Chief, -with a seat in the Cabinet. But Walpole’s illusion about his -friend was finally dispelled when, in the search for a leader which -went on during and after Lord Rockingham’s last illness, it appeared -that Conway’s name occurred to no one but himself.—<cite>See -Walpole to Mason, May 7, 1882, and to Mann, July 1, 1782.</cite></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_91" id="Footnote_91"></a><a href="#FNanchor_91"><span class="label">[91]</span></a> He did get but five of his sons into that Parliament.—<span class="smcap">Walpole.</span></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_92" id="Footnote_92"></a><a href="#FNanchor_92"><span class="label">[92]</span></a> Lord Hood was an admiral.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_93" id="Footnote_93"></a><a href="#FNanchor_93"><span class="label">[93]</span></a> Almost all the hackney-chairmen in London were Irish.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_94" id="Footnote_94"></a><a href="#FNanchor_94"><span class="label">[94]</span></a> “The fact of the Duchess having purchased the vote of a stubborn -butcher by a kiss, is, we believe, undoubted. It was probably -during the occurrence of these scenes that the well-known compliment -was paid to her by an Irish mechanic: ‘I could light my pipe -at her eyes.’”—<cite>Jesse’s</cite> “Selwyn,” vol. iv., p, 118.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_95" id="Footnote_95"></a><a href="#FNanchor_95"><span class="label">[95]</span></a> “Fox said that Sayers’s caricatures had done him more mischief -than the debates in Parliament, or the works of the press. The -prints of Carlo Khan, Fox running away with the India House, Fox -and Burke quitting Paradise when turned out of office, and many -others of these publications, had certainly a vast effect on the public -mind.”—<cite>Lord Chancellor Eldon</cite>, “Life of Twiss,” vol. i., p. 162. -This very apt quotation is made by Mr. P. Cunningham in his -valuable edition of Walpole’s Letters.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_96" id="Footnote_96"></a><a href="#FNanchor_96"><span class="label">[96]</span></a> Alluding to some coke-ovens for which Conway obtained a -patent.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_97" id="Footnote_97"></a><a href="#FNanchor_97"><span class="label">[97]</span></a> Mr. Pitt says, in a letter to Mr. Wilberforce, on the 8th of April, -“Westminster goes on well, in spite of the Duchess of Devonshire -and the other women of the people; but when the poll will close is -uncertain.” At the close of it, on the 17th of May, the numbers -were, for Hood, 6,694; Fox, 6,223; Wray, 5,998. Walpole, whose -delicate health at this time confined him almost entirely to his -house, went in a sedan-chair to give his vote for Mr. Fox.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_98" id="Footnote_98"></a><a href="#FNanchor_98"><span class="label">[98]</span></a> The Lady Caroline Petersham of the frolic at Vauxhall, related -in a former chapter. Conway in his youth had been enamoured of -her.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_99" id="Footnote_99"></a><a href="#FNanchor_99"><span class="label">[99]</span></a> At this time commencing her career as an actress.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_100" id="Footnote_100"></a><a href="#FNanchor_100"><span class="label">[100]</span></a> Cole died 16th December, 1782.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_101" id="Footnote_101"></a><a href="#FNanchor_101"><span class="label">[101]</span></a> See page 226.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_102" id="Footnote_102"></a><a href="#FNanchor_102"><span class="label">[102]</span></a> Lord Strafford died 10th March, 1791.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_103" id="Footnote_103"></a><a href="#FNanchor_103"><span class="label">[103]</span></a> Very shortly after this visit, Miss Burney was appointed one of -the Keepers of the Queen’s Robes in the room of Madame Haggerdorn, -who retired.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_104" id="Footnote_104"></a><a href="#FNanchor_104"><span class="label">[104]</span></a> Born in 1745, at Stapleton, near Bristol, where her father -had the care of the Charity School. Early in life, she joined -her sisters in establishing a school for young ladies, which had -great success. In 1773 she published a pastoral drama, called -“The Search after Happiness,” and in 1774 a tragedy founded -on the story of Regulus. These works led to her introduction -into London society. Her tragedy “Percy” was produced at -Covent Garden on the 10th of December, 1777, and ran nineteen -nights. About this time also she wrote “The Fatal Falsehood,” -and “Sacred Dramas.” In 1786, when she was forty years of age, -she withdrew from London, and settled at Cowslip Green, near -her native place, in which district she spent the remainder of her -life, devoting herself to works of charity, and the composition of -religious books.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_105" id="Footnote_105"></a><a href="#FNanchor_105"><span class="label">[105]</span></a> That is, voted that the charge relating to the spoliation of the -Begums of Oude contained matter for impeachment.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_106" id="Footnote_106"></a><a href="#FNanchor_106"><span class="label">[106]</span></a> Miss Elizabeth Farren, afterwards Countess of Derby.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_107" id="Footnote_107"></a><a href="#FNanchor_107"><span class="label">[107]</span></a> A celebrated tavern adjoining Drury Lane Theatre.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_108" id="Footnote_108"></a><a href="#FNanchor_108"><span class="label">[108]</span></a> Recently the seat of Lord St. Leonards.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_109" id="Footnote_109"></a><a href="#FNanchor_109"><span class="label">[109]</span></a> A comedy called “False Appearances,” translated from -“L’Homme du Jour” of Boissy. It was first acted at the private -theatre at Richmond House, and afterwards at Drury Lane.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_110" id="Footnote_110"></a><a href="#FNanchor_110"><span class="label">[110]</span></a> Meaning the establishment of the Mail-coach. Miss More, -in her last letter, had said,—“Mail-coaches, which come to -others, come not to me: letters and newspapers, now that they -travel in coaches, like gentlemen and ladies, come not within ten -miles of my hermitage; and while other fortunate provincials are -studying the world and its ways, and are feasting upon elopements, -divorces, and suicides, tricked out in all the elegancies of Mr. Topham’s -phraseology, I am obliged to be contented with village vices, -petty iniquities, and vulgar sins.”—<cite>Memoirs</cite>, vol. ii., p. 77.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_111" id="Footnote_111"></a><a href="#FNanchor_111"><span class="label">[111]</span></a> Major Topham was the proprietor of the fashionable morning -paper entitled <cite>The World</cite>. “In this paper,” says Mr. Gifford, in -his preface to the “Baviad,” “were given the earliest specimens of -those unqualified and audacious attacks on all private character, -which the town first smiled at for their quaintness, then tolerated -for their absurdity; and—now that other papers equally wicked -and more intelligible have ventured to imitate it—will have to -lament to the last hour of British liberty.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_112" id="Footnote_112"></a><a href="#FNanchor_112"><span class="label">[112]</span></a> Walpole was mistaken here. It was their granduncle, not -their grandfather, from whom Mr. Berry had expected to inherit.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_113" id="Footnote_113"></a><a href="#FNanchor_113"><span class="label">[113]</span></a> The date is thus put, alluding to his age, which, in 1789, was -seventy-one.—<span class="smcap">Mary Berry.</span></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_114" id="Footnote_114"></a><a href="#FNanchor_114"><span class="label">[114]</span></a> “Bishop Bonner’s Ghost.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_115" id="Footnote_115"></a><a href="#FNanchor_115"><span class="label">[115]</span></a> Her “Observations and Reflections made in the course of a -Journey through France, Italy, and Germany,” honoured with -a couplet in the “Baviad”—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“See Thrale’s grey widow with a satchel roam,</div> -<div class="verse">And bring in pomp laborious nothings home.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_116" id="Footnote_116"></a><a href="#FNanchor_116"><span class="label">[116]</span></a> One half the prediction was fulfilled, since the Duke of -Clarence outlived the Duke of York, and came to the throne in -1830, on the death of his eldest brother, at this time, 1789, the -Prince of Wales.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_117" id="Footnote_117"></a><a href="#FNanchor_117"><span class="label">[117]</span></a> This alludes to Miss Berry’s father having been disinherited by -an uncle, to whom he was heir-at-law, and a large property left to -his younger brother.—<span class="smcap">Mary Berry.</span></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_118" id="Footnote_118"></a><a href="#FNanchor_118"><span class="label">[118]</span></a> A drawing by Miss Agnes Berry.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_119" id="Footnote_119"></a><a href="#FNanchor_119"><span class="label">[119]</span></a> His secretary.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_120" id="Footnote_120"></a><a href="#FNanchor_120"><span class="label">[120]</span></a> An unmarried sister of the first Earl Howe, who then lived -at Richmond.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_121" id="Footnote_121"></a><a href="#FNanchor_121"><span class="label">[121]</span></a> Here begins Kirgate’s handwriting in the MS.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_122" id="Footnote_122"></a><a href="#FNanchor_122"><span class="label">[122]</span></a> A friend of the Berrys. He was then one of the Commissioners -for Auditing the Public Accounts.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_123" id="Footnote_123"></a><a href="#FNanchor_123"><span class="label">[123]</span></a> Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs. He was succeeded in -the office by Lord Grenville.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_124" id="Footnote_124"></a><a href="#FNanchor_124"><span class="label">[124]</span></a> The following anecdote, connected with this memorable evening, -is related by Mr. Curwen, at that time member for Carlisle, in -his “Travels in Ireland:”—“The most powerful feelings were -manifested on the adjournment of the House. While I was waiting -for my carriage, Mr. Burke came to me and requested, as the -night was wet, I would set him down. As soon as the carriage-door -was shut, he complimented me on my being no friend to the -revolutionary doctrines of the French; on which he spoke with -great warmth for a few minutes, when he paused to afford me an -opportunity of approving the view he had taken of those measures -in the House. At the moment I could not help feeling disinclined to -disguise my sentiments: Mr. Burke, catching hold of the check-string, -furiously exclaimed, ‘You are one of these people! set me -down!’ With some difficulty I restrained him;—we had then -reached Charing Cross: a silence ensued, which was preserved till -we reached his house in Gerard Street, when he hurried out of the -carriage without speaking.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_125" id="Footnote_125"></a><a href="#FNanchor_125"><span class="label">[125]</span></a> He means impeachments.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_126" id="Footnote_126"></a><a href="#FNanchor_126"><span class="label">[126]</span></a> Louisa Maximiliana de Stolberg Gœdern, wife of the Pretender. -After the death of Charles Edward in 1788, she travelled -in Italy and France, and lived with her favourite, the celebrated -Alfieri, to whom she is stated to have been privately married. She -continued to reside at Paris, until the progress of the revolution -compelled her to take refuge in England.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_127" id="Footnote_127"></a><a href="#FNanchor_127"><span class="label">[127]</span></a> A loo phrase.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_128" id="Footnote_128"></a><a href="#FNanchor_128"><span class="label">[128]</span></a> “There [at the opening of Hastings’s trial] were the -members of that brilliant society which quoted, criticised, and -exchanged repartees, under the rich peacock-hangings of Mrs. -Montagu.”—<cite>Macaulay’s Essay on “Warren Hastings.”</cite></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_129" id="Footnote_129"></a><a href="#FNanchor_129"><span class="label">[129]</span></a> To Miss Farren.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_130" id="Footnote_130"></a><a href="#FNanchor_130"><span class="label">[130]</span></a> This alludes to the stories told at the time of an ivory bed, inlaid -with gold, having been presented to Queen Charlotte by Mrs. -Hastings, the wife of the Governor-General of India.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_131" id="Footnote_131"></a><a href="#FNanchor_131"><span class="label">[131]</span></a> Shortly afterwards Lady Hamilton—Nelson’s Lady Hamilton.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_132" id="Footnote_132"></a><a href="#FNanchor_132"><span class="label">[132]</span></a> Miss Burney had recently resigned her situation about the -Queen’s person. Madame d’Arblay (Miss Burney) has entered -in her Diary the following portion of a letter addressed to her by -Walpole:</p> - -<p>“As this will come to you by my servant, give me leave to add a -word on your most unfounded idea that I can forget you, because -it is almost impossible for me ever to meet you. Believe me, I -heartily regret that privation, but would not repine, were your -situation, either in point of fortune or position, equal in any degree -to your merit. But were your talents given to be buried in -obscurity? You have retired from the world to a closet at Court—where, -indeed, you will still discover mankind, though not disclose -it; for if you could penetrate its characters, in the earliest glimpse of -its superficies, will it escape your piercing eye when it shrinks from -your inspection, knowing that you have the mirror of truth in your -pocket? I will not embarrass you by saying more, nor would have -you take notice of, or reply to what I have said: judge only, that -feeling hearts reflect, not forget. Wishes that are empty look like -vanity; my vanity is to be thought capable of esteeming you as -much as you deserve, and to be reckoned, though a very distant, a -most <em>sincere</em> friend,—and give me leave to say, dear Madam, your -most obedient humble servant, <span class="smcap">Hor. Walpole</span>.</p> - -<p>“Strawberry Hill, October, ’90.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_133" id="Footnote_133"></a><a href="#FNanchor_133"><span class="label">[133]</span></a> The Cholmondeleys.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_134" id="Footnote_134"></a><a href="#FNanchor_134"><span class="label">[134]</span></a> The weak and indolent character of Mr. Berry made him -always and everywhere a cipher.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_135" id="Footnote_135"></a><a href="#FNanchor_135"><span class="label">[135]</span></a> Queen Mary asked some of her attendant ladies what a squeeze -of the hand was supposed to intimate. They said “Love.” -“Then,” said the Queen, “my vice-chamberlain must be violently -in love with me, for he always squeezes my hand.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_136" id="Footnote_136"></a><a href="#FNanchor_136"><span class="label">[136]</span></a> ‘Anecdotes,’ etc., by Lætitia Matilda Hawkins, 1822.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_137" id="Footnote_137"></a><a href="#FNanchor_137"><span class="label">[137]</span></a> ‘Walpoliana,’ Preface.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_138" id="Footnote_138"></a><a href="#FNanchor_138"><span class="label">[138]</span></a> As early as 1754 he wrote to Bentley: “You know I never -drink three glasses of any wine.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_139" id="Footnote_139"></a><a href="#FNanchor_139"><span class="label">[139]</span></a> “A hat, you know, I never wear, my breast I never button, -nor wear great coats, etc.”—Letter to Cole, Feb. 14, 1782.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Horace Walpole and his World, by Horace Walpole - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HORACE WALPOLE AND HIS WORLD *** - -***** This file should be named 53519-h.htm or 53519-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/5/1/53519/ - -Produced by Beginners Projects and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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