Books: Letters of Horace Walpole, V4

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Letter 370 To Miss Agnes Berry.
Berkeley Square, Feb. 18, 1791. (page 477)

Here is a shocking, not a fatal, codicil to Gunnilda's story.
But first I should tell you, that two days after the explosion,
the ignora Madre took a postchaise and four, and drove to
Blenheim; but, not finding the Duke and Duchess there, she
inquired where the Marquis was, and pursued him to Sir Henry
Dashwood's: finding him there, she began about her poor daughter;
but he interrupted her, said there was an end put to all that,
and desired to lead her to her chaise, which he insisted on
doing, and did. I think this another symptom Of the Minifry
being accomplices to the daughter's enterprises. Well! after the
groom's confession, and after Mr. Bowen had been confronted with
her, and produced to her face her note to his wife, which she
resolutely disowned, she desired the Duke of Argyll to let her
take an oath on the Bible of her perfect innocence of every
Circumstance of the whole transaction; which you may be sure he
did not permit. N'importe: the next day, taking two of the
Duchess of Bedford's servants for witnesses, she went before a
justice of peace, swore to her innocence and ignorance
throughout, even of the note to Mrs. Bowen; and then said to the
magistrate, "Sir, from my youth you may imagine I do not know the
solemnity of an oath but, to convince you I do, I know my
salvation depends on what I have now sworn." Solve all this, if
you can! Is it madness? Does even romance extend its inventions
so far? or its dispensations? It is but a burlesque part of this
wonderful tale, that old crazy Bedford exhibits Miss every
morning on the causeway in Hyde Park; and declares her proteg`ee
some time ago refused the hand of your acquaintance, Mr.
Trevelyan.(741) Except of the contending Opera-houses, one can
hear of nothing but Miss Gunning,,; but it is now grown so
disgusting a story, that I shall be glad to hear and repeat to
you no more about it.

The Pantheon has opened, and is small, they say, but pretty and
simple; all the rest ill-conducted, and from the singers to the
sceneshifters imperfect; the dances long and bad, and the whole
performance so dilatory and tedious, that it lasted from eight to
half an hour past twelve. The rival theatre is said to be
magnificent and lofty, but it is doubtful whether it will be
suffered to come to light: in short, the contest will grow
politics; Dieu et Mon Droit supporting the Pantheon, and Ich Dien
countenancing the Haymarket. It is unlucky that the amplest
receptacle is to hold the minority!

20th.

O'Hara(742) is come to town. You will love him better than ever.
He persuaded the captain of the ship, whom you will love for
being persuaded, to stop at Lisbon, that he might see Mrs. Damer.
O'Hara has been shockingly treated! The House of Richmond is on
the point of receiving a very great blow. Colonel Lenox, who had
been dangerously ill but was better, has relapsed with all the
worst symptoms;(743) and is too weak to be sent to the south, as
the physicians recommended, Lady Charlotte is breeding, but that
is very precarious; and should it be a son, how many years ere
that can be a comfortable resource!

Is not it strange that London, in February and Parliament
sitting, should furnish no more paragraphs? Yet, confined at home
and in every body's way, and consequently my room being a
coffee-house from two to four, I probably hear all events worth
relating as soon as they are born, and send you them before they
are a week old. Indeed, I think the Gunninhiana may last you a
month at Pisa, where, I suppose, the grass grows in the streets
as fast as news. When I go out again I am likely to know less: I
go but to few, and those the privatest places I can find, which
are not the common growth of London; nor, but to amuse you,
should I inquire after news. What is a juvenile world to me; or
its pleasures, interests, or squabbles? I scarce know the
performers by sight.

21st.

It is very hard! The Gunnings will not let me or the town have
done with them. La Madre has advertised a Letter to the Duke of
Argyll: so he is forced to collect counter affidavits. The groom
has 'deposed that she promised him twenty pounds a year for his
life, and he has given up a letter that she wrote to him. The
mother, when she went after the Marquis, would have persuaded him
to get into her chaise; but he would not venture being carried to
Gretna-green, and married by force. She then wanted him to sign
a paper, that all was over between him and her daughter. He
said, "Madam, nothing was ever begun;" and refused. I told you
wrong: mother and daughter were not actually in the Duchess of
Bedford's house, but in Lord John Russel's, which she lent to
them: nor were her servants witnesses to the oath before Justice
Hide, but Dr. Halifax and the apothecary. The Signora and her
Infanta now, for privacy, are retired into St. James's-street,
next door to Brooks's; whence it is supposed Miss will angle for
unmarried Marquises-perhaps for Lord Titchfield.(744) It is lost
time for people to write novels, who can compose such a romance
as these good folks have invented. Adieu!

(741) Mr. Trevelyan married in the following August, Maria,
daughter of Sir Thomas Spencer Wilson, Bart. On the death of his
father, in 1828, he succeeded to the title, as fifth baronet.-E.

(742) Afterwards lieutenant- governor of Gibraltar. He died in
1802.

(743) Colonel Lenox recovered from his illness, and, in 1806,
succeeded his uncle as fourth Duke of Richmond. His grace was
governor of Canada at the period of his decease, at Montreal, in
1819; and was succeeded by the son here anticipated; who was born
on the 3d of August 1791.-E.

(744) In 1795, the, Marquis of Titchfield married Miss Scott,
eldest daughter and heir of General John Scott, of Balcomie, in
the county of Fife, and in 1809, succeeded his father as fourth
Duke of Portland.-E.

Letter 371. \To The Miss Berrys.
Berkeley Square, Feb. 26, 1791. (page 479)

I have no letter from you to answer, nor any thing new that is
the least interesting to tell you. The Duke of Argyll has sent a
gentleman with a cart-load of affidavits, which the latter read
to mother and daughter, in order to prevent the publication of
their libel; but it only enraged the former, -who vows she will
print all she knows, that is, any thing she has heard by their
entire intimacy in the family, or, no doubt, what she can invent
or misrepresent. What a Medusa! There has been a fragment of a
rehearsal in the Haymarket, but still the Pantheon remains master
of the field of battle: the vanquished are preparing manifestoes,
but they seldom recover the day.

Madame du Barry(745) is come over to recover her jewels, of which
she has been robbed--not by the National Assembly, but by four
Jews who have been seized here and committed to Newgate. Though
the late Lord Barrymore acknowledged her husband to be of his
noble blood, will she own the present Earl for a relation, when
she finds him turned strolling player!(746) If she regains her
diamonds, perhaps Mrs. Hastings may carry her to court.(747)

If you want bigger events, you may send to the Russian army, who
will cut you fifteen thousand throats in a paragraph; or, en
attendant, you may piddle with the havoc made at Chantilly, which
has been half demolished by the rights of men, as the poor old
Mesdames have been stopped by the rights of the poissardes; for,
as it is true that extremes meet, the moment despotism was hurled
from the throne, it devolved to the mob, whose majesties, not
being able to write their names, do not issue lettres de cachet,
but execute their wills with their own hands; for hanging, which
degrades an executioner, ne deroge pas in sovereigns--witness the
Czar Peter the Great, Muley Ishmael, and many religious and
gracious African monarchs.

After eleven weeks of close confinement, I went out yesterday to
take the air; but was soon driven back by rain and sleet, which
soon ripened to a tempest of wind and snow, and continued all
night - it does not freeze, but blows so hard, that I shall sally
out no more tilt the weather has recovered its temper-I do not
mean that I expect Pisan skies.

28th.

It was on Saturday that I began this; it is now Monday, and I
have no letter from you, though we have had dozens of east winds.
I am sorry to find that it costs above six weeks to say a word at
Pisa and have an answer in London. This makes correspondence
very uncomfortable; you will be talking to me of Miss Gunning,
when, perhaps, she may be sent to Botany Bay, and be as much
forgotten here as the Monster.(748) Still she has been a great
resource this winter; for, though London is apt to produce
Wilkeses, and George Gordons, and Mrs. Rudds, and Horne Tookes,
and other phenomena, wet and dry, the, present season has been
very unprolific; and we are forced to import French news, as we
used to do fashions and Operas comiques. The Mesdames are
actually set out: I shall be glad to hear they are safe at Turin,
for are there no poissardes but at Paris?(749) Natio poissarda
est.

Mr. Gibbon writes that he has seen Necker, and found him still
devoured by ambition.(750) and I should think by mortification at
the foolish figure he has made. Gibbon admires Burke to the
skies, and even the religious parts, he says.(751)

Monday evening.

The east winds are making me amends -, one of them has brought me
twins. I am sorry to find that even Pisa's sky is not quite
sovereign, but that you have both been out of order, though,
thank God! quite recovered both, If a Florentine March is at all
like an English one, I hope you will not remove thither till
April. Some of its months, I am sure, were sharper than those of
our common wear are. Pray be quite easy about me: I am entirely
recovered, though, if change were bad, we have scarce had one day
without every variety of bad weather, with a momentary leaf-gold
of sun. I have been out three times, and to-day have made five
and-twenty visits, and was let in at six; and, though a little
fatigued, am still able, you see, to finish my letter. You seem
to think I palliated my illness - I certainly did not tell you
that I thought it doubtful how it would end; yet I told you all &
circumstances, and surely did not speak sanguinely.

I wish, in No. 20, you had not again named October or November.
I have quite given up those months, and am vexed I ever pressed
for them, as they would break into Your reasonable plans, for
which I abandon any foolish ones of my own. But I am a poor
philosopher, or rather am like all philosophers, have no presence
of mind, and must study my part before I can act it. I have now
settled myself not to expect you this year-do not unsettle me: I
dread a disappointment, as I do a relapse of the gout; and
therefore cut this article short, that I may not indulge vain
hopes, My affection for you both is unalterable; can I give so
strong a proof as by supplicating you, as I do earnestly, to act
as is most prudent for your healths and interest? A long journey
in November would be the very worst part you could take. and I
beseech you not to think of it: for me, you see I take a great
deal of killing, nor is it so easy to die as is imagined.

Thank you, my dearest Miss Agnes, for your postscript. I love to
see your handwriting; and yet do not press for it, as you are
shy: though I address myself equally to both, and consult the
healths of both In what I have recommended above. Here is a
postscript for yours: Madame du Barry was to go and swear to her
jewels before the Lord Mayor. Boydell, who is a little better
bred than Monsieur Bailly,(752) made excuses for being obliged to
administer the oath chez lui, but begged she would name her hour;
and, when she did, he fetched her himself in the state-coach, and
had a mayor-royal banquet ready for her.(753) She has got most
of her jewels again. I want the King to send her four Jews to
the National Assembly, and tell them it is the change or la
monnoie of Lord George Gordon, the Israelite.

Colonel Lenox is much better: the Duchess of Leinster had a
letter from Goodwood to-day which says he rides out. I am glad
you do. I said nothing on "the Charming-man's" poem. I fear I
said too much to him myself. He said, others liked it: and
showed me a note from Mr. Burke, that was hyperbole itself. I
wish him so well, that I am sorry he should be so flattered,
when, in truth, he has no genius.(754) There is no novelty, no
plan, and no suite in his poetry: though many of the lines are
pretty. Dr. Darwin alone can exceed his predecessors.

Let me repeat to both, that distance of place and time can make
no alteration in my friendship. It grew from esteem for your
characters, and understandings, and tempers; and became affection
from your good-natured attentions 'to me, where there is so vast
a disproportion in our ages. Indeed, that complaisance spoiled
me; but I have weaned myself of my own self-love, and you shall
hear no more of its dictates.

(745) The last mistress of Louis; the Fifteenth. The Count du
Barry who had disgraced his name by marrying her, claimed to be
of the same family with the Earls of Barrymore in Ireland.-E.

(746) See ante, p. 452, letter 354.

(747) Mrs. Hastings was supposed, by the party violence of the
day, to have received immense bribes in diamonds.

(748) A vagabond so called, from his going about attempting to
stab at women with a knife. His first aim had probably been at
their Pockets, which having in several instances missed and
wounded his intended victims, fear and a love of the marvellous
dubbed him with the name of the Monster. The wretch, whose name
was Renwick Williams, was tried for the offence at the Old
Bailey, in July 1790, and found guilty of a misdemeanour.-E.

(749) After numerous interruptions, the King's aunts were
permitted by the National Assembly to proceed to Italy.-E.

(750) "I have passed," says Gibbon, in a letter to Lord
Sheffield, "four days at the castle of Copet with Necker; and
could have wished to have shown him as a warning to any aspiring
youth possessed with the demon of ambition. With all the means
of private happiness in his power, he is the most miserable of
human beings; the past, the present, and the future, are equally
odious to him. When I suggested some domestic amusement of
books, building, etc. he answered, with a deep tone Of despair,
'Dans l'`etat o`u je suis, je ne puis sentir que le coup de vent
qui m'a abbatu.' How different from the conscious cheerfulness
with which our friend Lord North supported his fall! Madame
Necker maintains more external composure, mais le diable n'y perd
rien. It is true that Necker wished to be carried into the
closet, like old Pitt, on the shoulders of the people, and that
he has been ruined by the democracy which he had raised. I
believe him to be an able financier and know him to be an honest
man."-E.

(751) The following are Gibbon's expressions:--"Burke's book is a
most admirable medicine against the French disease; which has
made too much progress even in this happy country. I admire his
eloquence, I approve his politics, I adore his Chivalry, and I
can forgive even his superstition."-E.

(752) M. Bailly, the learned astronomer. He was president of the
first National Assembly, and in July 1789, appointed mayor of
Paris; in which situation he gave great offence to the people, in
July 1791, by ordering martial law to be proclaimed against a mob
which had assembled in the Champ de Mars to frame an address,
recommending the deposition of Louis. For this step, which was
approved of by the Assembly, he was arrested, tried, condemned,
and put to death on the 11th of November 1793. The details of
this event are horrible. "The weather," says M. Thiers, "was
cold and rainy, Conducted on foot, he manifested the utmost
composure amidst the insults of a barbarous populace, whom he had
fed while he +was mayor. On reaching the foot of the scaffold,
one of the wretches cried out, that the field of' the federation
ought not to be polluted by his blood. The people instantly
rushed upon the guillotine, bore it off, and erected it again
upon a dunghill on the bank of the Seine, and opposite to the
spot where Bailly had passed his life and composed his invaluable
works. This operation lasted some hours: meanwhile, he was
compelled to walk several times round the Champ de Mars,
bareheaded, and with his hands pinioned behind him. Some pelted
him with mud, others kicked and struck him with sticks. He fell
exhausted. They lifted him up again. 'Thou tremblest!' said a
soldier to him. 'My friend,' replied the old man, 'it is cold.'
At length he was delivered over to the executioner; and another
illustrious scholar, and one of the most virtuous of men, was
then taken from it." Vol. iii. p. 207-E.

(753) See post, p. 484.-E.

(754) Mr. Gifford was of Walpole's opinion, and has, in
consequence, accorded to " The Charming-man" a prominent
situation in the Baviad:--

"See snivilling Jerningham at fifty weep
O'er love-lorn oxen and deserted sheep."

To the poem here alluded to, and which was entitled "Peace,
Ignominy, and Destruction," the satirist thus alludes:-"I thought
I understood something of faces; but I must read my Lavater over
again I find. That a gentleman, with the physionomie \2d'un
mouton qui r`eve,' should suddenly start up a new Tyrtaeus, and
pour a dreadful note, through a cracked war-trump, amazes me:
well, fronti nulla fides shall henceforth be my motto' In a note
to the Pursuits of Literature, Mr. Mathias directs the attention
of Jerningham to the following beautiful lines in Dryden's
Epistle to Mr. Julien, Secretary of the Muses:--

"All his care
Is to be thought a Poet fine and fair;
Small beer and gruel are his meat and drink,
The diet he prescribes himself to think;
Rhyme next his heart he takes at morning peep,
Some love-epistles at the hour of sleep;
And when his passion has been bubbling long,
The scum at last boils Up into a song." --E.

Letter 372 To The Miss Berrys.
Berkeley Square, March 5, 1791. (page 483)

One may live in a vast capital, and know no more of three parts
of it than of Carthage. When I was at Florence, I have surprised
some Florentines by telling them, that London was built, like
their city, (where you often cross the bridges several times in a
day,) on each side of the river: and yet that I had never been
but on one side; for then I had never been in Southwark. When I
was very young, and in the height of the opposition to my father,
my mother wanted a large parcel of bugles; for what use I forget.
As they were then out of fashion, she could get none. At last,
she was told of a quantity in a little shop in an obscure alley
in the City. We drove thither; found a great stock; she bought
it, and bade the proprietor send it home. He said, "Whither?"
"To Sir Robert Walpole's." He asked coolly, "Who is Sir Robert
Walpole?"

This is very like Cambridge, who tells you three stories to make
you understand a fourth. In short, t'other morning a gentleman
made me a visit, and asked if I had heard of the great misfortune
that had happened? The Albion Mills are burnt down. I asked
where they were; supposing they were powder-mills in the country,
that had blown up. I had literally never seen or heard of the
spacious lofty building at the end of Blackfriars Bridge. At
first it was supposed maliciously burnt, and it is certain the
mob stood and enjoyed the conflagration, as of a monopoly; but it
had been on fire, and it was thought extinguished. The building
had cost a hundred thousand Pounds; and the loss in corn and
flour is calculated at a hundred and forty thousand. I do not
answer for the truth of the sums; but it is certain that the
Palace-yard and part of St. James's Park were covered with
half-burnt grain.(755)

This accident, and my introduction, have helped me to a good part
Of my letter; for you must have observed, that even in this
overgrown town the winter has not been productive of events.
Good night! I have two days to wait for a letter that I may
answer. Stay -, I should tell you, that I have been at Sir
Joseph Banks's literary saturnalia,(756) where was a Parisian
watchmaker, who produced the smallest autoMaton that I suppose
was ever created. It was a rich snuffbox, not too large for a
woman. On opening the lid, an enamelled bird started up, sat on
the rim, turned round, fluttered its wings, and piped in a
delightful tone the notes of different birds; particularly the
jug-jug of the nightingale. It is the prettiest plaything you
ever saw; the price tempting--only five hundred pounds. That
economist, the Prince of Wales, could not resist it, and has
bought one of those dickybirds. If the maker finds such
customers, he will not end like one of his profession here, who
made the serpent in Orpheus and Eurydice;(757) and who fell so
deeply in love with his own works, that he did nothing afterwards
but make serpents, of all sorts and sizes, till he was ruined and
broke. I have not a tittle to add-but that the Lord Mayor did
not fetch Madame du Barry in the City-royal coach; but kept her
to dinner. She is gone; but returns in April.

(755) The fire took place on the morning of the 2d of March.
There was no reason for any particular suspicion, except the
general dislike in the lower classes of the people, arising from
a notion, that the undertaking enhanced the price of corn and
decreased the value of labour.-E.

(756) Sir Joseph Banks, while President of the Royal Society, had
a weekly evening reception of all persons distinguished in
science or the arts.

(757) A celebrated opera.

Letter 373 To Miss Berry.
Strawberry Hill, Saturday, March 19, 1791. (page 484)

I did not begin my letter on customary Friday , because I had
nothing new to tell or to say. The town lies fallow--not an
incident worth repeating as far as I know. Parliament
manufactures only bills, not politics. I never understood any
thing useful; and, now that my time and connexions are shrunk to
so narrow a compass, what business have I with business? As I
have mended considerably for the last four days, and as we have
had a fortnight of soft warm weather, and a southwest wind
to-day, I have ventured hither for 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. I shall
return to town on Monday, and hope to find a letter to answer--or
what will this do?

Berkeley Square, Monday evening.

I am returned and find the only letter I dreaded, and the only
one, I trust, that I shall ever not be impatient to receive from
you. Though ten thousand times kinder than I deserve, it wounds
my heart: as I find I have hurt two of the persons I love the
best upon earth', and whom I am most constantly studying to
please and serve. That I soon repented of my murmurs, you have
seen by my subsequent letters. The truth, as you may have
perceived, though no excuse, was, that I had thought myself
dying, and should never see you more; that I was extremely weak
and low, when Mrs. Damer's letter arrived, and mentioned her
supposing that I should not see you till spring twelvemonth.
That terrible sentence recalled Mr. Batt's being the first to
assure me of your going abroad, when I had concluded you had laid
aside the design. I did sincerely allow that in both instances
you had acted from tenderness in concealing your intentions; but,
as I knew I could better bear the information from yourselves
than from others, I thought it unfriendly to let me learn from
others what interested me so deeply: yet I do not in the least
excuse my conduct; no, I condemn it in every light, and shall
never forgive myself if you do not promise me to be guided
entirely by your own convenience and inclinations about your
return. I am perfectly well again, and just as likely to live
one year as half an one. Indulge your pleasure
in being abroad while you are there. I am now reasonable enough
to enjoy your happiness as my own; and, since you are most kind
when I least deserve it, how can I express my gratitude for
giving up the scruple that was so distressing to me! Convince me
you are in earnest by giving me notice that you will write to
Charingcross while the Neapolitans are at Florence.(758) I will
look on that as a clearer proof of your forgiving my criminal
letter, than your return before you like it. It is most sure
that nothing is more solid or less personal than my friendship
for you two; and even my complaining letter, though unjust and
unreasonable, proved that the nearer I thought myself to quitting
the world, the more my heart was set on my two friends; nay, they
had occupied the busiest moments of my illness as well as the
most fretful ones. Forgive then, my dearest friends, what could
proceed from nothing but too impatient affection. You say most
truly you did not deserve my complaints: your patience and temper
under them make me but more in the wrong; and to have hurt you,
who have known but too much grief, is such a contradiction to the
whole turn of my mind ever since I knew you, that I believe my
weakness from illness was beyond even what I suspected. It is
sure that, when I am in my perfect senses, the whole bent of my
thoughts is to promote your and your sister's felicity; and you
know nothing can give me satisfaction like your allowing me to be
of use to you. I speak honestly, notwithstanding my unjust
letter; I had rather serve you than see you. Here let me finish
this subject: I do not think I shall be faulty to you again.