Books: Letters of Horace Walpole, V4

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You must know, Madam, that near Bath is erected a new
Parnassus, composed of three laurels,- a myrtle-tree, a
weeping-willow, and a view of the Avon, which has been
new-christened Helicon. Ten years ago there lived a Madam
Riggs, an old rough humourist who passed for a wit; her
daughter, who passed for nothing, married to a Captain Miller,
full of good-natured officiousness. These good folks were
friends of Miss Rich,(187) who carried me to dine with them at
Batheaston, now Pindus. They caught a little of what was then
called taste, built and planted, and begot children, till the
whole caravan- were forced to. go abroad to retrieve. Alas!
Mrs. Miller is returned-' a beauty, a genius, a Sappho, a
Muse, as romantic as Mademoiselle Scuderi, and as sophisticated
as Mrs. Vesey. The captain's fingers are loaded with cameos,
his tongue runs over with virt`u, and that both may contribute
to the improvement of their own country, they have introduced
bouts-rim`es as a new discovery. They hold a Parnassus-fair
every Thursday, give out rhymes and themes, and all the flux of
quality at Bath contend for the prizes. A Roman vase dressed
with pink ribands and myrtles receives the poetry which is
drawn out every festival; six judges of these Olympic games
retire and select the brightest compositions, which the
respective successful acknowledge, kneel to Mrs. Calliope
Miller, kiss her fair hand, and are crowned by it with myrtle,
with--I don't know what. You may think this is fiction, or
exaggeration. Be dumb, unbelievers! The collection is printed,
published. (188) Yes, on my faith, there are bouts-rim`es on a
buttered muffin, made by her grace the Duchess of
Northumberland;(189) receipts to make them by Corydon the
venerable, alias George Pitt; others very pretty, by Lord
Palmerston;(190) some by Lord Carlisle; many by Mrs. Miller
herself, that have no fault but wanting metre; and immortality
promised to her without end or measure. In short, since folly,
which never ripens to madness but in this hot climate, ran
distracted, there was never any thing so entertaining or so
dull--for you cannot read so long as I have been telling.(191)

January 17.

Before I could finish this, I received your despatches by Sir
Thomas Clarges, and a most entertaining letter in three tomes.
It is being very dull, not to be able to furnish a quarter so
much from your own country-but what can I do? You are embarked
in a new world, and I am living on the scraps of an old one, of
which I am tired. The best I can do is to reply to your
letter, and not attempt to amuse you when I have nothing to
say. I think the Parliament meets today, or in a day or
two-but I hope you are coming. Your brother says so, and
Madame du Deffand says so; and sure it is time to leave Paris,
when you know ninety of the inhabitants.(192) There seems much
affectation in those that will not know you;(193) and
affectation is always a littleness--it has been even rude: but
to be sure the rudeness one feels least, was that which is
addressed to one before there has been any acquaintance.

Ninon came,(194) because, on Madame du Deffand's mentioning it,
I concluded it a new work, and am disappointed. I can say this
by heart. The picture of Madame de Prie, which you don't seem
to value, and so Madame du Deffand says, I believe I shall
dispute with you; I think it charming, but when offered to me
years ago, I would not take it--it was now given to you a
little a mon intention.

I am sorry that, amongst all the verses you have sent me, you
should have forgotten what you commend the most, Les trois
exclamations. I hope you will bring them with you. Voltaire's
are intolerably stupid, and not above the level of officers in
garrison. Some of M. de Pezay's are very pretty, though there
is too much of them; and in truth I had seen them before.
Those on Madame de la Vali`ere pretty too, but one is a little
tired of Venus and the Graces. I am most pleased with your
own--and if you have a mind to like them still better, make
Madame du Deffand show you mine, which are neither French, nor
measure, nor metre. She is unwilling to tell me so-, which
diverts me. Yours are really genteel and new.

I envy you the Russian Anecdotes(195) more than M. de
Chamfort's Fables, of which I know nothing; and as you say no
more, I conclude I lose not much. The stories of Sir
Charles(196) are so far not new to me, that I heard them of him
from abroad after he was mad: but I believe no mortal of his
acquaintance ever heard them before; nor did they at all
correspond with his former life, with his treatment of his
wife, or his history with Mrs. Woffington, qui n'`etait pas
dupe. I say nothing on the other stories you tell me of
billets dropped,(197) et pour cause.

I think I have touched all your paragraphs, and have nothing
new to send you in return. In truth, I go nowhere but into
private rooms,; for I am not enough recovered to relaunch into
the world, when I have so good an excuse for avoiding it. The
bootikins have done wonders; but even two or three such
victories will cost too dear. I submit very patiently to my
lot. I am old and broken, and it never was my system to impose
upon myself when one can deceive nobody else. I have spirits
enough for my use, that is, amongst my friends and
contemporaries: I like Young people and their happiness for
every thing but to live with; but I cannot learn their
language, nor tell them old stories, of which I must explain
every step as I go. Politics' the proper resource of age, I
detest--I am Contented, but see few that are so--and I never
will be led by any man's self-interest. A great scene is
opening, of which I cannot expect to see the end! I am pretty
sure not a happy end--so that, in short, I am determined to
think the rest of my life but a postscript: and as this has
been too long an One, I will wish You good night, repeating
what you know already, that the return of you three is the most
agreeable prospect I expect to see realized. Adieu!

(187) Daughter of Sir Robert Rich, and sister to the second
wife of George Lord Lyttelton.

(188) They were published under the title of "Poetical
Amusements at a Villa near Bath." An edition appeared in 1781,
in four volumes.-E.

(189) "The pen which I now take and brandish
Has long lain useless in my standish.
Know, every maid, from her on patten,
To her who shines in glossy satin,
That could they now prepare an oglio
>From best receipt of book in folio,
Ever so fine, for all their puffing,
I should prefer a butter'd muffin;
A muffin Jove himself might feast on,
If eat with Miller at Batheaston."-E.

(190) The following are the concluding lines of a poem on
Beauty, by Lord Palmerston:--

"In vain the stealing hand of Time
May pluck the blossoms of their prime;
Envy may talk of bloom decay'd,
How lilies droop and roses fade;
But Constancy's unalter'd truth,
Regardful of the vows of youth,
Affection that recalls the past,
And bids the pleasing influence last,
Shall still preserve the lover's flame
In every scene of life the same;
And still with fond endearments blend
The wife, the mistress, and the friend!"-E.

(191) "Lady Miller's collection of verses by fashionable
people, which were put into her vase at Batheaston, in
competition for honourary prizes being mentioned, Dr. Johnson
held them very cheap: 'Bouts-rim`es,' said be, 'is a mere
conceit, and an old conceit; I wonder how people were persuaded
to write in that manner for this lady.' I named a gentleman of
his acquaintance who wrote for the vase. Johnson--'He was a
blockhead for his pains!' Boswell. 'The Duchess of
Northumberland wrote.' Johnson: 'Sir, the Duchess of
Northumberland may do what she pleases; nobody will say any
thing to a lady of her high rank: but I should be apt to throw
* * * *'s verses in his face.'" Boswell. vol. v. p. 227.-E.

(192) Madame du Deffand, writing of General Conway to Walpole,
had said--"Savez-vous combien il connait d`ej`a de personnes
dans Paris? Quatre.vingt dix. Il n'est nullement sauvage."-E.

(193) The Duc du Choiseul.

(194) The Life of Ninon de l'Enclos.

(195) The account of the revolution in Russia which placed
Catherine II. on the throne, by M. de la Rulhi`ere, afterwards
Published. Mr. Conway had heard it read in manuscript in a
private society.

(196) Sir Charles Hanbury Williams.

(197) This alludes to circumstances Mr. Conway mentions as
having taken place at a ball at Versailles.

Letter 87 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.(198)
January 22, 1775. (page 128)

After the magnificent overture for peace from Lord Chatham,
that I announced to Madame du Deffand, you will be most
impatient for my letter. Ohin`e! you will be sadly
disappointed. Instead of drawing a circle with his wand round
the House of Lords, and ordering them to pacify America, on the
terms he prescribed before they ventured to quit the
circumference of his commands, he brought a ridiculous,
uncommunicated, unconsulted motion for addressing the King
immediately to withdraw the troops from Boston, as an earnest
of lenient measures. The Opposition stared and shrugged; the
courtiers stared and laughed. His own two or three adherents
left him, except Lord Camden and Lord Shelburne, and except
Lord Temple, who is not his adherent and was not there.
Himself was not much animated, but very hostile; particularly
on Lord Mansfield, who had taken care not to be there. He
talked of three millions of Whigs in America, and told the
ministers they were checkmated and had not a move left to make.
Lord Camden was as strong. Lord Suffolk was thought to do
better than ever, and Lord Lyttelton's declamation was
commended as usual. At last, Lord Rockingham, very punily, and
the Duke of Richmond joined and supported the motion; but at
eight at night it was rejected by 68 to 18, though the Duke of
Cumberland voted for it.(199)

This interlude would be only entertaining, if the scene was not
so totally gloomy. The cabinet have determined on civil war,
and regiments are going from Ireland and our West Indian
islands. On Thursday the plan of the war is to be laid before
both Houses. To-morrow the merchants carry their petition;
which, I suppose, will be coolly received, since, if I hear
true, the system is to cut off all traffic with America at
present--as, you know, we can revive it when we please. There!
there is food for meditation! Your reflections, as you
understand the subject better than I do, will go further than
mine could. Will the French you converse with be civil and
keep their countenances?

George Damer(200) t'other day proclaimed your departure for the
25th; but the Duchess of Richmond received a whole cargo of
letters from ye all on Friday night, which talk of a fortnight
or three weeks longer. 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.

January 24.

I am very sorry to tell you the Duke of Gloucester is dying.
About three weeks ago the physicians said it was absolutely
necessary for him to go abroad immediately. He dallied, but
was actually preparing. He now cannot go, and probably will
not live many days, as he has had two shivering fits, and the
physicians give the Duchess no hopes.(201) Her affliction and
courage are not to be described; they take their turns as she
is in the room with him or not. His are still greater. His
heart is broken, and yet his firmness and coolness amazing. I
pity her beyond measure; and it is not a time to blame her
having accepted an honour which so few women could have
resisted, and scarce one ever has resisted.

The London and Bristol merchants carried their petitions
yesterday to the House of Commons. The Opposition contended
for their being heard by the committee of the whole House, who
are to consider the American papers; but the Court sent them to
a committee(202) after a debate till nine at night, with
nothing very remarkable, on divisions of 197 to 81, and 192 to
65. Lord Stanley(203) spoke for the first time; his voice and
manner pleased, but his matter was not so successful.
Dowdeswell(204 is dead, and Tom Hervey.(205) The latter sent
for his Wife and acknowledged her. Don't forget to inform me
when my letters must stop. Adieu! Yours ever.

(198) Now first printed.

(199) In the Chatham correspondence will be found another, and
a very different, account of this debate, in a letter to Lady
Chatham, from their son William:--"Nothing," he says,
"prevented my father's speech from being the most forcible that
can be imagined, and the administration fully felt it. The
matter and manner were striking; far beyond what I can express.
It was every thing that was superior; and though it had not the
desired effect on an obdurate House of Lords, it must have an
infinite effect without doors, the bar being crowded with
Americans, etc. Lord Suffolk, I cannot say answered him, but
spoke after him. He was a contemptible orator indeed, with
paltry matter and a whining delivery. Lord Shelburne spoke
well, and supported the motion warmly. Lord Camden was
supreme, with only One exception, and as zealous as possible.
Lord Rockingham spoke shortly, but sensibly; and the Duke of
Richmond well, and with much candour as to the Declaratory act.
Upon the whole, it was a noble debate. The ministry were
violent beyond expectation, almost to madness. instead of
recalling the troops now there, they talked of sending more.
My father has had no pain, but is lame in one ankle near the
instep from standing so long. No wonder he is lame: his first
speech lasted above an hour, and the second half an hour;
surely, the two finest speeches that ever were made before,
unless by himself!" Dr. Franklin too, who heard the debate,
says, in reference to Lord Chatham's speech-"I am filled with
admiration of that truly great man. I have seen, in the course
of my life, sometimes eloquence without wisdom and often wisdom
without eloquence: in the present instance, I see both united,
and both, as I think, in the highest degree possible." Vol. iv.
pp. 375, 385.-E.

(200) Afterwards second Earl of Dorchester-E.

(201) His Royal Highness survived this illness more than thirty
years.-E.

(202) This committee was wittily called by Mr. Burke, and
afterwards generally known as "the committee of oblivion."-E.

(203) Afterwards Earl of Derby-E.

(204) The Right Hon. William Dowdeswell, of Pull Court, member
for the county of Worcester. He died at Nice, whither he had
gone for the recovery of his health.-E.

(205) The Hon. Thomas Hervey, second son of John first Earl of
Bristol.-E.

Letter 88 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.
Arlington Street, April 11, 1775. (page 129)

I thank you, dear Sir, for your kind letter., and the good
account YOU give of yourself-nor can I blame your change from
writing that is, transcribing, to reading--sure you ought to
divert yourself rather than others-though I should not say s,
if your pen had not confined itself to transcripts.

I am perfectly well, and heed not the weather; though I wish
the seasons came a little oftener into their own places instead
of each Other's. From November, till a fortnight ago, we had
much warmth that I should often be glad of in summer--and since
we are not sure of it then, was rejoiced when I could get it.
For myself, I am a kind of delicate Hercules; and though made
of paper, have, by temperance, by using as much cold water
inwardly and outwardly as I can, and by taking no precautions
against catching cold, and braving all weathers, become capable
of suffering by none. My biennial visitant, the gout, has
yielded to the bootikins, and stayed with me this last time but
five weeks in lieu of five months. Stronger men perhaps would
kill themselves by my practice, but it has done so long with
me, I shall trust to it.

I intended writing to you on Gray's Life,(206) if you had not
prevented me. I am charmed with it, and prefer it to all the
biography I ever saw. The style is excellent, simple,
unaffected; the method admirable, artful, and judicious. He
has framed the fragments, as a person said, so well, that they
are fine drawings, if not finished pictures. For my part, I am
so interested in it, that I shall certainly read it over and
over. I do not find that it is likely to be the case with many
yet. Never was a book, which people pretended to expect so
much with impatience, less devoured-at least in London, where
quartos are not of quick digestion. Faults are found, I hear,
at Eton with the Latin Poems for false quantities-no
matter-they are equal to the English -and can one say more?

At Cambridge, I should think the book would both offend much
and please; at least if they are as sensible to humour as to
ill-humour; and there is orthodoxy enough to wash down a camel.
The Scotch and the Reviewers will be still more angry. and the
latter have not a syllable to pacify them. So they who wait
for their decisions will probably miss of reading the most
entertaining book in the world--a punishment which they who
trust to such wretched judges deserve; for who are more
contemptible than such judges, but they who pin their faith on
them?

In answer to you, yourself, my good Sir, I shall not subscribe
to your censure of Mr. Mason, whom I love and admire, and who
has shown the greatest taste possible in the execution of this
work. Surely he has said enough in gratitude, and done far
beyond what gratitude could demand., It seems delicacy in
expatiating on the legacy; particularizing more gratitude would
have lessened the evidence of friendship, and made the 'justice
done to Gray's character look more like a debt.,_ He speaks of
him in slender circumstances, not as distressed: and so he was
till after the deaths of his parents and aunts; and even then
surely not rich. I think he does somewhere say that he meant to
be buried with his mother, and not specifying any other place
confirms it. In short, Mr. Mason shall never know your
criticisms; he has a good heart, and would feel them, though
certainly not apprised that he would merit them. A man who has
so called out all his -friend's virtues, could not want them
himself.

I shall be much obliged to you for the prints you destine for
me. The Earl of Cumberland I have, and will not rob you of. I
wish you had been as successful with Mr. G. as with Mr. T. I
mean, if you are not yet paid-now is the time, for he has sold
his house to the Duke of Marlborough-I suppose he will not keep
his prints long: he changes his pursuits Continually and
extravagantly-and then sells to indulge new fancies.

I have had a piece of luck within these two days. I have long
lamented our having no certain piece written by Anne Boleyn's
brother, Lord Rochford. I have found a very pretty copy of
verses by him in the new published volume of the Nuge Antiquae,
though by mistake he is called, Earl of, instead Of Viscount,
Rochford. They are taken from a MS-dated twenty-eight years
after the author's death, and are much in the manner of Lord
Surrey's and Sir T. Wyat's poems. I should at first have
doubted if they were not counterfeited, on reading my Noble
Authors; but then the blunder of earl for viscount would hardly
have been committed. A little modernized and softened in the
cadence, they would be very pretty.

I have got the rest of the Digby pictures, but at a very high
rate. There is one very large of Sir Kenelm, his wife, and two
sons, in exquisite preservation, though the heads of him and
his wife are not so highly finished as those I have--yet the
boys and draperies are so that, together with the size, it is
certainly the most capital miniature in the world: there are a
few more, very fine too. I shall be happy to show them to you,
whenever You Burnhamize--I mean before August, when I propose
making MY dear old blind friend a visit at Paris--nothing else
would carry me thither. I am too old to seek diversions, and
too indolent to remove to a distance by choice, though not so
immovable as YOU to much less distance. Adieu! Pray tell me
what you hear is said of Gray's Life at Cambridge.

(206) "The Poems of Mr. Gray: to which are prefixed Memoirs of
his Life and Writings; by W, Mason, M A, York, 1775." At the
end of Mason's work Mr. Cole wrote the following memorandum:--
"I am by no means satisfied with this Life; it has too much the
affectation of classical shortness to please me, More
circumstances would have suited my taste better; besides, I
think the biographer had a mind to revenge himself of the
sneerings Mr. Gray put upon him, though he left him, I guess,
above a thousand pounds, which is slightly hinted at only; yet
Mr. Walpole was quite satisfied with the work when I made my
objection." A copy of Gray's will is given in the Rev. J.
Mitford's very valuable edition of the poet's works, published
by Pickering, in four volumes, in 1836.-E.

Letter 89 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.
Arlington Street, April 5, 1775. (page 132)

The least I can do, dear Sir, in gratitude for the cargo of
prints I have received to-day from you, is to send you a
medicine. A pair of bootikins will set out to-morrow morning
in the machine that goes from the Queen's-head in
Gray's-inn-lane. To be certain, you had better send for them
where the machine inns, lest they should neglect delivering
them at Milton. My not losing a moment shows my zeal; but if
you can bear a little pain, I should not press you to use them.
I have suffered so dreadfully, that I constantly wear them to
diminish the stock of gout in my constitution; but as your fit
is very slight, and will not last, and as you are pretty sure
by its beginning so late, that you will never have much; and s
the gout certainly carries off other complaints, had not you
better endure a little, when it is rather a remedy than a
disease? I do not desire to be entirely delivered from the
gout, for all reformations do but make room for some new
grievance: and in my opinion a disorder that requires no
physician, is preferable to any that does. However, I have put
relief in your power, and you will judge for yourself. You
must tie them as tight as you can bear, the flannel next to the
flesh; and, when you take them off, it should be in bed: rub
your feet with a warm cloth, and put on warm stockings, for
fear of catching cold while the pores are open. It would kill
any body but me, who am of adamant, to walk out in the dew in
winter in my slippers in half an hour after pulling off the
bootikins. A physician sent me word, good-naturedly, that
there was danger of catching cold after the bootikins, unless
one was careful. I thanked him, but told him my precaution
was, never taking any. All the winter I pass five days in a
week without walking out, and sit often by the fireside till
seven in the evening. When I do go out, whatever the weather
is, I go with both glasses of the coach down, and so I do at
midnight out of the hottest room. I have not had a single
cold, however slight, these two years.

You are too candid in submitting at once to my defence of Mr.
Mason. It is true I am more charmed with his book than I almost
ever was with one. I find more people like the grave letters
than those of humour, and some think the latter a little
affected, which is as wrong a judgment as they could make; for
Gray never wrote any thing easily but things of humour. Humour
was his natural and original turn--and though from his
childhood he was grave and reserved, his genius led him to see
things ludicrously and satirically; and though his health and
dissatisfaction gave him low spirits, his melancholy turn was
much more affected than his pleasantry in writing. You knew
him enough to know I am in the right-but the world in general
always wants to be told how to think, as well as what to think.
The print, I agree with you, though like, is a very
disagreeable likeness, and the worst likeness of him. It gives
the primness he had under constraint; and there is a blackness
in the countenance which was like him only the last time I ever
saw him, when I was much struck with it: and, though I did not
apprehend him in danger, it left an impression on me that was
uneasy, and almost prophetic of what I heard but too soon after
leaving him. Wilson drew the picture under such impression,
and I could not bear it in my room; Mr. Mason altered it a
little, but Still it is not well, nor gives any idea of the
determined virtues of his heart. It just serves to help the
reader to an image of the person whose genius and integrity
they must admire, if they are so happy as to have a taste for
either.

The Peep into the Gardens at Twickenham is a silly little book,
of which a few little copies were printed some years ago for
presents, and which now sets up for itself as a vendible book.
It is a most inaccurate, superficial, blundering account of
Twickenham and other places, drawn up by a Jewess, who has
married twice, and turned Christian, poetess, and authoress.
She has printed her poems, too, and one complimentary copy of
mine, which, in good breeding, I could not help Sending her in
return for violent compliments in verse to me. I do not
remember that hers were good; mine I know were very bad, and
certainly never intended for the press.