Books: Letters of Horace Walpole, V4

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(6) George, third Earl of Albemarle. His lordship had married,
on the 20th of April, Anne, youngest daughter of Sir John
Miller, Bart. of Chichester. He died in October 1772.-E.

(7) Lady Charlotte Ponsonby, second daughter of William, second
Earl of Besborough. The marriage took place on the 1st of
July.-E.

(8) Dr. Johnson, having read in the newspapers an account of a
masquerade given at Edinburgh, by the Countess Dowager of Fife,
at which Boswell had appeared in the character of a dumb
conjuror, thus wrote to him:--"I have heard of your masquerade.
What says your synod to such innovations? I am not studiously
scrupulous, nor do I think a Masquerade either evil in itself
or very likely to be the occasion of evil, yet, as the world
thinks it a very licentious relaxation of manners, I would not
have been one of the first masquers in a country where no
masquerades had ever been before."-E.

Letter 5 To George Montagu, Esq.
Strawberry Hill, June 11, 1770. (page 29)

My company and I have wished for you very much to-day. The
Duchess of Portland, Mrs. Delany, Mr. Bateman, and your cousin,
Fred. Montagu, dined here. Lord Guildford was very obliging,
and would have come if he dared have ventured. Mrs. Montagu
was at Bill-hill with Lady Gower. The day was tolerable, with
sun enough for the house, though not for the garden. You, I
suppose, will never come again, as I have not a team of horses
large enough to draw you out of the clay of Oxfordshire.

I went yesterday to see my niece(9) in her new principality of
Ham. It delighted me and made me peevish. Close to the
Thames, in the centre of all rich and verdant beauty, it is so
blocked up and barricaded with walls, vast trees, and gates,
that you think yourself an hundred miles off and an hundred
years back. The old furniture is so magnificently ancient,
dreary and decayed, that at every step one's spirits sink, and
all my passion for antiquity could not keep them up. Every
minute I expected to see ghosts sweeping by; ghosts I would not
give sixpence to See, Lauderdales, Tollcmaches, and Maitlands.
There is one old brown gallery full of Vandycks and Lelys,
charming miniatures, delightful Wouvermans, and Polenburghs,
china, japan, bronzes, ivory cabinets, and silver dogs, pokers,
bellows, etc. without end. One pair of bellows is of filigree.
In this state of pomp and tatters my nephew intends it shall
remain, and is so religious an observer of the venerable rites
of his house, that because the gates never were opened by his
father but once for the late Lord Granville, you are locked out
and locked in, and after journeying all round the house, as you
do round an old French fortified town, you are at last admitted
through the stable-yard to creep along a dark passage by the
housekeeper's room, and so by a back-door into the great hall.
He seems as much afraid of water as a cat; for though you might
enjoy the Thames from every window of three sides of the house,
you may tumble into it before you guess it is there. In short,
our ancestors had so little idea of taste and beauty, that I
should not have been surprised if they had hung their pictures
with the painted sides to the wall. Think of such a palace
commanding all the reach of Richmond and Twickenham, with a
domain from the foot of Richmond-hill to Kingston-bridge, and
then imagine its being as dismal and prospectless as if it
stood "on Stanmore's wintry wild!" I don't see why a man should
not be divorced from his prospect as well as from his wife, for
not being able to enjoy it. Lady Dysart frets, but it is not
the etiquette of the family to yield, and @ she must content
herself with her chateau of Tondertentronk as well as she can.
She has another such ample prison in Suffolk, and may be glad
to reside where she is. Strawberry, with all its painted glass
and gloom, looked as gay when I came home as Mrs. Cornelis's
ball-room.

I am very busy about the last volume of my Painters, but have
lost my index, and am forced again to turn over all my Vertues,
forty volumes of miniature MSS.; so that this will be the third
time I shall have made an index to them. Don't say that I am
not persevering, and yet I thought I was grown idle. What
pains one takes to be forgotten! Good-night!

(9) Charlotte, daughter of Sir Edward Walpole, married to Lord
Huntingtower, who had just succeeded to the title of the Earl
of Dysart, on the death of his father.-E.

Letter 6 To George Montagu, Esq.
Strawberry Hill, June 29, 1770. (page 30)

Since the sharp mountain will not come to the little hill, the
little hill must go to the mountain. In short, what do you
think of seeing me walk into your parlour a few hours after
this epistle! I had not time to notify myself sooner. The
case is, Princess Amelia has insisted on my going with her to,
that is, meeting her at Stowe on Monday, for a week. She
mentioned it to me some time ago, and I thought I had parried
it; but having been with her at Park-place these two or three
days, she has commanded it so positively that I could not
refuse. Now, as it would be extremely inconvenient to my
indolence to be dressed up in weepers and hatbands by six
o'clock in the morning, and lest I should be taken for chief
mourner going to Beckford's funeral,(10) I trust you will be
charitable enough to give me a bed at Adderbury for one night,
whence I can arrive at Stowe in a decent time, and caparisoned
as I ought to be, when I have lost a brother-in-law(11) and am
to meet a Princess. Don't take me for a Lauson, and think all
this favour portends a second marriage between our family and
the blood-royal; nor that my visit to Stowe implies my
espousing Miss Wilkes. I think I shall die as I am, neither
higher nor lower; and above all things, no more politics. Yet
I shall have many a private smile to myself, as I wander among
all those consecrated and desecrated buildings, and think what
company I am in, and of all that is past; but I must shorten my
letter, or you will not have finished it when I arrive. Adieu!
Yours, a-coming! a-coming!

(10) William Beckford, Esq. Lord Mayor of London, who died on
the 21st of June, during his second mayoralty, in the
sixty-fifth year of his age. On the 5th of the following
month, at a meeting of the Common Council, "a motion being made
and question put, that the statue of the Right Hon. William
Beckford, late Lord Mayor, deceased, be erected in the
Guildhall of this city, with the inscription of his late
address to his Majesty, the was resolved in the affirmative."
The speech here alluded to is the one which the Alderman
addressed to his Majesty on the 23d of May, with reference to
the King's reply--"That he should have been wanting to the
public, as well as to himself, if he had not expressed his
dissatisfaction at the late address." At the end of the
Alderman's speech, in his copy of the City Addresses, Mr. Isaac
Reed has inserted the following note:--"It is a curious fact,
but a true one, that Beckford did not utter one syllable of
this speech. It was penned by Horne Tooke, and by his art put
on the records of the city and on Beckford's statue; as he told
me, Mr. Braithwaite, Mr. Sayers, etc. at the Athenian club.
Isaac Reed." There can be little doubt that the worthy
commentator and his friends were imposed upon. In the Chatham
Correspondence, vol. iii. p. 460, a letter from Sheriff
Townsend to the Earl expressly states, that with the exception
of the words "and necessary" being left out before the word
"revolution," the Lord Mayor's speech in the Public Advertiser
of the preceding day is verbatim the one delivered to the
King.--E.

(11) George third Earl of Cholmondeley. He married, in 1723,
Mary the youngest daughter of @Sir Robert Walpole.-E.

Letter 7 To George Montagu, Esq.
Adderbury, Sunday night, July 1, 1770. (page 32

You will be enough surprised to receive a letter from me dated
from your own house, and may judge of my mortification at not
finding you here; exactly as it happened two years ago. In
short, here I am, and will tell you how I came here; in truth,
not a little against my will. I have been at Park-place with
Princess Amelia, and she insisted on my meeting her at Stowe
to-morrow. She had mentioned it before, and as I have no
delight in a royal progress, and as little in the Seigneur
Temple, I waived the honour and pleasure, and thought I should
hear no more of it. However, the proposal was turned into a
command, and every body told me I could not refuse. Well, I
could not come so near, and not call upon you; besides, it is
extremely convenient to my Lord Castlecomer, for it would have
been horrid to set out at seven o'clock in the morning, full-
dressed, in my weepers, and to step out of my chaise into a
drawing-room. I wrote to you on Friday, the soonest I could
after this was settle(], to notify myself to you, but find I am
arrived before my letter. Mrs. White is all goodness; and
being the first of July, and consequently the middle of winter,
has given me a good fire and some excellent coffee and bread
and butter, and I am as comfortable as possible, except in
having missed you. She insists on acquainting you, which makes
me write this to prevent your coming; for as I must depart at
twelve o'clock to-morrow, it would be dragging you home before
your time for only half an hour, and I have too much regard for
Lord Guildford to deprive him of your company. Don't therefore
think of making this unnecessary compliment. I have treated
your house like an inn, and it will not be friendly, if you do
not make as free with me. I had much rather that you would
take it for a visit that you ought to repay. Make my best
compliments to your brother and Lord Guildford, and pity me for
the six dreadful days that I am going to pass. Rosette is fast
asleep in your chair, or I am sure she would write a
postscript. I cannot say she is either commanded or invited to
be of this royal party; but have me, have my dog.

I must not forget to thank you for mentioning Mrs. Wetenhall,
on whom I should certainly wait with great pleasure, but have
no manner of intention of going into Cheshire. There is not a
chair or stool in Cholmondeley, and my nephew, I believe, will
pull it down. He has not a fortune to furnish or inhabit it;
and, if his uncle should leave him one, he would choose a
pleasanter country. Adieu! Don't be formal with me, and don't
trouble your hand about yours ever.

Letter 8 To George Montagu, Esq.
Strawberry Hill, Saturday night, July 7, 1770. (page 33)

After making an inn of your house, it is but decent to thank
you for my entertainment, and to acquaint you with the result
of my journey. The party passed off much better than I
expected. A Princess at the Heart 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(12) 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 one 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 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,
Granvilles, 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
anathematized there, and now again commanding there, with the
temple of Friendship, 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 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 alfresco so much as I should
have done twenty years ago. The evening was more than cool,
and the destined spot any thing 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, wrapt up in cloaks and greatcoats, 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, was an arch, which Lord Temple has erected to
her honour in the most enchanting of all picturesque scenes.
It is inscribed on one side, 'Amelia Sophia 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 arises, arched over
with trees, but opened, and discovering a hillock full of
haycocks, 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 overhovering 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 or five times every day, and could not
satiate herself with it. 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:--

T'other day, with a beautiful frown on her brow,
To the rest of the gods said the Venus of Stowe,
"What a fuss is here made with that arch just erected,
How our temples are slighted, our antirs neglected!
Since yon nymph has appear'd, We are noticed no more,
All resort to her shrine, all her presence adore;
And what's more provoking, before all our faces,
Temple thither has drawn both the Muses and Graces."
"Keep your temper, dear child," Phoebus cried with a smile,
"Nor this happy, this amiable festival spoil.
Can your shrine any longer with garlands be dress'd?
When a true goddess reigns, all the false are suppress'd."

If you will keep my counsel, I will own to you, that originally
the two last lines were much better, but I was forced to alter
them out of decorum, not to be too pagan upon the occasion; in
short, here they are as in the first sketch,--

"Recollect, once before that our oracle ceased,
When a real divinity rose in the East."

So many heathen temples around had made me talk as a Roman poet
would have done: but I corrected my verses, and have made them
insipid enough to offend nobody. Good night! I am rejoiced to
be once more in the gay solitude of my own little Temple. Yours
ever.

(12) Lady Anne Howard, daughter of Henry fourth Earl, and
sister of Frederick fifth Earl of Carlisle.-E.

Letter 9 To The Earl Of Strafford.
Strawberry Hill, July 9, 1770. (page 35)

I am not going to tell you, my dear lord, of the diversions or
honours of Stowe, which I conclude Lady Mary has writ to Lady
Strafford. Though the week passed cheerfully enough, it was
more glory than I should have sought of my own head. The
journeys to Stowe and Park-place have deranged my projects so,
that I don't know where I am, and I wish they have not given me
the gout into the bargain; for I am come back very lame, and
not at all with the bloom that one ought to have imported from
the Elysian field. Such jaunts when one is growing old is
playing with edged-tools, as my Lord Chesterfield, in one of
his Worlds,(13) makes the husband say to his wife, when she
pretends that gray powder does not become her. It is charming
at twenty to play at Elysian fields, but it is no joke at
fifty; or too great a joke. It made me laugh as we were
descending the great flight of steps from the house to go and
sup in the grotto on the banks of Helicon: we were so cloaked
up, for the evening was very cold, and so many of us were
limping and hobbling, that Charon would have easily believed we
were going to ferry over in earnest. It is with much more
comfort that I am writing to your lordship in the great
bow-window of my new round room, which collects all the rays of
the southwest sun, and composes a sort of summer; a feel I have
not known this year, except last Thursday. If the rains should
ever cease, and the weather settle to fine, I shall pay you my
visit at Wentworth Castle; but hitherto the damps have affected
me so much, that I am more disposed to return to London and
light my fire, than brave the humours of a climate so
capricious and uncertain, in the country. I cannot help
thinking it grows worse; I certainly remember such a thing as
dust: nay, I still have a clear idea of it, though I have seen
none for some years, and should put some grains in a bottle for
a curiosity, if it should ever fly again.

News I know none. You may be sure it was a subject carefully
avoided at Stowe; and Beckford's death had not raised the glass
or spirits of the master of the house. The papers make one
sick with talking of that noisy vapouring fool, as they would
of Algernon Sidney.

I have not happened to see your future nephew, though we have
exchanged visits. It was the first time I had been at
Marble-hill, since poor Lady Suffolk's death; and the
impression was so uneasy, that I was not sorry not to find him
at home. Adieu, my good lord! Except seeing you both, nothing
can be more agreeable than to hear of yours and Lady
Strafford's health, who, I hope, continues perfectly well.

(13) No. 18. A Country Gentleman's Tour to Paris with his
Family.-E.

Letter 10 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Arlington Street, July 12, 1770. (page 36)

Reposing under my laurels! No, no, I am reposing in a much
better tent, under the tester of my own bed. I am not obliged
to rise by break of day and be dressed for the drawing-room; I
may saunter in my slippers till dinner-time, and not make bows
till my back is as much out of joint as my Lord Temple's. In
short, I should die of the gout or fatigue, if I was to be
Polonius to a Princess for another week. Twice a-day we made a
pilgrimage to almost every heathen temple in that province that
they call a garden; and there is no sallying out of the house
without descending a flight of steps as high as St. Paul's. My
Lord Besborough would have dragged me up to the top of the
column, to see all the kingdoms of the earth; but I would not,
if he could have given them to me. To crown all, because we
live under the line, and that we were all of us giddy young
creatures, of near threescore, we supped in a grotto in the
Elysian fields, and were refreshed with rivers of dew and
gentle showers that dripped from all the trees, and put us in
mind of the heroic ages, when kings and queens were shepherds
and shepherdesses, and lived in caves, and were wet to the skin
two or three times a-day. Well! thank Heaven, I am emerged
from that Elysium, and once more in a Christian country!--Not
but, to say the truth, our pagan landlord and landlady were
very obliging, and the party went off much better than I
expected. We had no very recent politics, though volumes about
the Spanish war; and as I took care to give every thing a
ludicrous turn as much as I could, the Princess was diverted,
the six days rolled away, and the seventh is my sabbath; and I
promise you i will do no manner of work, I, nor my cat, nor my
dog, nor any thing that is mine. For this reason, I entreat
that the journey to Goodwood may not take place before the 12th
of August, when I will attend you. But this expedition to
Stowe has quite blown up my intended one to Wentworth Castle: I
have not resolution enough left for such a journey. Will you
and Lady Ailesbury come to Strawberry before, or after
Goodwood? I know you like being dragged from home as little as
I do; therefore you shall place that visit just when it is most
convenient to you.

I came to town the night before last, and am just returning.
There are not twenty people in all London. Are not YOU in
despair about the summer? It is horrid to be ruined in coals in
June and July. Adieu. Yours ever.

Letter 11 To George Montagu, Esq.
Strawberry Hill, July 14, 1770. (page 37)

I see by the papers this morning that Mr. Jenkinson(14) is
dead. He had the reversion of my place, which would go away,
if I should lose my brother. I have no pretensions to ask it,
and you know It has long been my fixed resolution not to accept
it. But as Lord North is your particular friend, I think it
right to tell you, that you may let him know what it is worth,
that he may give it to one of his own sons, and not bestow it
on somebody else, without being apprised of its value. I have
seldom received less than fourteen hundred a-year in money, and
my brother, I think, has four more from it. There are besides
many places in the gift of the office, and one or two very
considerable. Do not mention this but to Lord North, or Lord
Guilford. It is unnecessary, I am sure, for me to say to you,
but I would wish them to be assured that in saying this, I am
incapable of, and above any finesse, or view, to myself. I
refused the reversion for myself several years ago, when Lord
Holland was secretary of state, and offered to obtain it for
me. Lord Bute, I believe, would have been very glad to have
given it to me, before he gave it to Jenkinson; but I say it
very seriously, and you know me enough to be certain I am in
earnest, that I would not accept it upon any account. Any
favour Lord North will do for you will give me all the
satisfaction I desire. I am near fifty-three; I have neither
ambition nor interest to gratify. I can live comfortably for
the remainder of my life, though I should be poorer by fourteen
hundred pounds a-year; but I should have no comfort if, in the
dregs of life, I did any thing that I would not do when I was
twenty years younger. I will trust to you, therefore, to make
Use of this information in the friendly manner I mean it, and
to prevent my being hurt by its being taken otherwise than as a
design to serve those to whom you wish well. Adieu! Yours
ever.

(14) Charles Jenkinson, at this time one of the lords of the
treasury. In 1786, He was created Baron Hawkesbury, and in
1796 advanced to the dignity of Earl of Liverpool.-E.

Letter 12 To George Montagu, Esq.
Strawberry Hill, Sunday, [July 15, 1770.] (page 38)

I am sorry I wrote to you last night, for I find it is Mrs.
Jenkinson(15) that is dead, and not Mr.; and therefore I should
be glad to have this arrive time enough to prevent your
mentioning the contents of my letter. In that case, I should
not be concerned to have given you that mark of my constant
good wishes, nor to have talked to you of my affairs, which are
as well in your breast as my own. They never disturb me; for
my mind has long taken its stamp, and as I shall leave nobody
much younger than myself behind me for whom I am solicitous, I
have no desire beyond being easy for the rest of my life I
could not be so if I stooped to have obligations to any man
beyond what it would ever be in my power to return. When I was
in Parliament, I had the additional reason of choosing to be
entirely free; and my strongest reason of all is, that I will
be at liberty to speak truth both living and dead. This
outweighs all considerations of interest, and will convince
you, though I believe you do not want that conviction, that my
yesterday's letter was as sincere in its resolution as in its
professions to you. Let the matter drop entirely, as it is now
Of no consequence. Adieu! Yours ever.