Books: Letters of Horace Walpole, V4

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It is very singular that I have not half the satisfaction in
going into C, churches and convents that I used to have. The
consciousness that the vision is dispelled, the want of fervour
so obvious in the religious, the solitude that one knows
proceeds from contempt, not from contemplation, make those
places appear like abandoned theatres destined to destruction.
The monks trot about as if they had not long to stay there; and
what used to be the holy gloom is now but dirt and darkness.
There is no more deception than in a tragedy acted by
candlesnuffers. One is sorry to think that an empire of common
sense would not be very picturesque; for, as there is nothing
but taste that can compensate for the imagination of madness, I
doubt there will never be twenty men of taste for twenty
thousand madmen. The world will no more see Athens, Rome, and
the Medici again, than a succession of five good emperors, like
Nerva, Trajan, Adrian, and the two Antonines.

August 13.

Mr. Edmonson called on me; and, as he sets on to-morrow, I can
safely trust my letter to him. I have, I own,, been much
shocked at reading Gray's(53) death in the papers. 'Tis an
hour that makes one forget any subject of complaint, especially
towards one with whom I lived in friendship from thirteen years
old. As self lies so rooted in self, no doubt the nearness of
our ages made the stroke recoil to my own breast; and having so
little expected his death, it is Plain how little I expect my
own. Yet to you, who of all men living are the most forgiving,
I need not excuse the concern I feel. I fear most men ought to
apologize for their want of feeling, instead of palliating that
sensation when they have it. I thought that what I had seen of
the world had hardened my heart; but I find that it had formed
my language, not extinguished my tenderness. In short, I am
really shocked--nay, I am hurt at my own weakness, as I
perceive that when I love any body, it is for my life; and I
have had too Much reason not to wish that such a disposition
may very seldom be put to the trial.(54) You, at least, are
the only person to whom I would venture to make such a
confession.

Adieu! my dear Sir! Let me know when I arrive, which will be
about the last day of the month, when I am likely to see YOU.
I have much to say to you. Of being here I am most heartily
tired, and nothing but the dear old woman should keep me here
an hour-I am weary of them to death-but that is not new! Yours
ever.

(51) Entitled "An Essay on Design in Gardening," Mr. Whately
was at this time under-secretary of state, and member for
Castle Rising. In January, 1772, he was made keeper of the
King's private roads, gates, and bridges, and died in the June
following.-E.

(52) The Life of St. Bruno, painted by Le Soeur, in the
cloister of the Chartreuse.

(53) On the 24th of July," says Mr. Mitford, "Gray, while at
dinner in the college hall, was seized with an attack of the
gout in his stomach. The violence of the disease resisted all
the powers of medicine: on the 29th he was seized with
convulsions, which returned more violently on the 30th; and he
expired on the evening of that day, in the fifty-fifth year of
his age." Works, Vol. i, P. lvi-E.

(54) "It will appear from this and the two following letters,"
observes Mr. Mitford, "that Walpole's affection and friendship
for Gray was warm and sincere after the reconcilement took
place; and indeed, before that, and immediately after the
quarrel, I believe his regard for Gray was undiminished."
Works, vol. iv. p. 2 12-E.

Letter 32 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Paris, August 11, 1771. (page 57)

You will have seen, I hope, before now, that I have not
neglected writing to you. I sent you a letter by my sister,
but doubt she has been a great while upon the road, as they
travel with a large family. I was not sure where you was, and
would not write at random by the post.

I was just going out when I received yours and the newspapers.
I was struck in a most sensible manner, when, after reading
your letter, I saw in the newspapers that Gray is dead! So very
ancient an intimacy(55) and, I suppose, the natural reflection
to self on losing a person but a year older, made me absolutely
start in my chair. It seemed more a corporal than a mental
blow; and yet I am exceedingly concerned for him, and every
body must be so for the loss of such a genius. He called on me
but two or three days before I came hither; he complained of
being ill, and talked of the gout in his stomach--but I
expected his death no more than my own--and yet the same death
will probably be mine.(56) I am full of all these
reflections-but shall not attrist you with them: only do not
wonder that my letter will be short, when my mind is full of
what I do not give vent to. It was but last night that I was
thinking how few persons last, if one lives to be old, to whom
one can talk without reserve. It is impossible to be intimate
with the Young, because they and the old cannot converse on the
same common topics; and of the old that survive, there are few
one can commence a friendship with, because one has probably
all one's life despised their heart or their understandings.
These are the steps through which one passes to the unenviable
lees of life!

I am very sorry for the state of poor Lady Beauchamp. It
presages ill. She had a prospect of long happiness. Opium is
a very false friend. I will get you Bougainville's book.(57)
I think it is on the Falkland Isles, for it cannot be on those
just discovered; but as I set out to-morrow se'nnight, and
probably may have no opportunity sooner of sending it, I will
bring it myself. Adieu! Yours ever.

(55) It will b recollected, that General Conway travelled with
Gray and Walpole in 1739, and separated from them at Geneva.-E.

(56) Gray's last letter to Walpole was dated March 17, 1771; it
contained the following striking passage:--"He must have a very
strong stomach that can digest the crambe recocta of Voltaire.
Atheism is a vile dish, though all the cooks of France combine
to make new sauces to it. As to the soul, perhaps they may
have none on the Continent; but I do think we have such things
in England; Shakspeare, for example, I believe, had several to
his own share. As to the Jews (though they do not eat pork), I
like them, because they are better Christians than Voltaire."
Works vol. iv. p. 190.-E.

(57) An English translation of the book appeared in 1773, under
the title of "History of a Voyage to the Malonine, or Falkland
Islands, made in 1763 and 1764, under the command of M. de
Bougainville; and of two Voyages to the Straits of Magellan,
with an account of the Patagonians; translated from Don
Pernety's Historical Journal, written in French." In the same
year was published a translation of Bougainville's "Voyage
autour du Monde." This celebrated circumnavigator retired from
the service in 1790. He afterwards was made Count and Senator
by Napoleon Buonaparte, became member of the National Institute
and of the Royal Society of London, and died at Paris in 1811,
at the age of eighty-two.-E.

Letter 33 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.
Paris, August 12, 1771. (page 53)

I am excessively shocked at reading in the papers that Mr. Gray
is dead! I wish to God you may be able to tell me it is not
true! Yet in this painful uncertainty I must rest some days!
None of my acquaintance are in London--I do not know to whom to
apply but to you--alas! I fear in vain! Too many circumstances
speak it true!--the detail is exact;--a second paper arrived by
the same post, and does not contradict it--and, what is worse,
I saw him but four or five days before I came hither: he had
been to Kensington for the air, complained of the gout flying
about him, of sensations of it in his stomach: I, indeed,
thought him changed, and that he looked ill--still I had not
the least idea of his being in danger--I started up from my
chair when I read the paragraph--a cannon-ball would not have
surprised me more! The shock but ceased, to give way to my
concern; and my hopes are too ill-founded to mitigate it. If
nobody has the charity to write to me, my anxiety must continue
till the end of the month, for I shall set out on my return on
the 26th; and unless you receive this time enough for your
answer to leave London on the 20th, in the evening, I cannot
meet it till I find it in Arlington-street, whither I beg you
to direct it.

If the event is but too true, pray add to this melancholy
service, that of telling me any circumstance you know of his
death. Our long, very long friendship, and his genius, must
endear to me every thing that relates to him. What writings
has he left? Who are his executors?(58) I should earnestly
wish, if he has destined any thing to the public, to print it
at my press--it would do me honour, and would give me an
opportunity of expressing what I feel for him. Methinks, as we
grow old, our only business here is to adorn the graves of our
friends, or to dig our own! Adieu, dear Sir! Yours ever.

P. S. I heard this unhappy news but last night; and have just
been told, that Lord Edward Bentinck goes in haste to-morrow to
England; so that you will receive this much sooner than I
expected: still I must desire you to direct to
Arlington-street, as by far the surest conveyance to me.

(58) His executors were, Mason the poet and the Rev. Dr. Brown,
master of Pembroke Hall. "He hath desired," wrote Dr. Brown to
Dr. Wharton, "to be buried near his mother, at Stoke, near
Windsor, and that one of his executors would see him laid in
the grave; a melancholy task, which must come to my share, for
Mr. Mason is not here." Works, vol. iv. p. 206.-E.

Letter 34 To The Earl Of Strafford.
Paris, August 25, 1771. (page 59)

I have passed my biennial six weeks here, my dear lord, and am
preparing to return as soon as the weather will allow me. It
is some comfort to the patriot virtue, envy, to find this
climate worse than our own. There were four very hot days at
the end of last month, which, you know, with us northern people
compose a summer: it has rained half this, and for these three
days there has been a deluge, a storm, and extreme cold. Yet
these folks shiver in silk, and sit with their Windows open
till supper-time. Indeed, firing is very dear, and nabobs very
scarce. Economy and retrenchment are the words in fashion, and
are founded in a little more than caprice. I have heard no
instance of luxury but in Mademoiselle Guimard, a favourite
dancer, who is building a palace: round the salle `a manger
there are windows that open upon hot-houses, that are to
produce flowers all winter. That is worthy of * * * * * *.
There is a finer dancer, whom Mr. Hobart is to transplant to
London; a Mademoiselle Heinel or Ingle, a Fleming.(59) She is
tall, perfectly made, very handsome, and has a set of attitudes
copied from the classics. She moves as gracefully slow as
Pygmalion's statue when it was Coming to life, and moves her
leg round as imperceptibly as if she was dancing in the zodiac.
But she is not Virgo.

They make no more of breaking parliaments here than an English
mob does of breaking windows. It is pity people are so
ill-sorted. If this King and ours could cross over and figure
in, Louis XV. would dissolve our parliament if Polly Jones did
but say a word to him. They have got into such a habit of it
here, that you would think a parliament was a polypus: they cut
it in two, and by next morning half of it becomes a whole
assembly. This has literally been the case at Besan`con.(60)
Lord and Lady Barrymore, who are in the highest favour at
Compiegne, will be able to carry over the receipt.

Everybody feels in their own way. My grief is to see the
ruinous Condition of the palaces and pictures. I was yesterday
at the Louvre. Le Brun's noble gallery, where the battles of
Alexander are, and of which he designed the ceiling, and even
the shutters, bolts, and locks, is in a worse condition than
the old gallery at Somerset-house. It rains in upon the
pictures, though there are stores of much more valuable pieces
than those of Le Brun. Heaps of glorious works by Raphael and
all the great masters are piled up and equally neglected at
Versailles. Their care is not less destructive in private
houses. The Duke of Orleans' pictures and the Prince of
Monaco's have been cleaned, and varnished so thick that you May
see your face in them; and some of them have been transported
from board to cloth, bit by bit, and the seams filled up with
colour; so that in ten years they will not be worth sixpence.
It makes me as peevish as if I was posterity! I hope your
lordship's works will last longer than these of Louis XIV. The
glories of his si`ecle hasten fast to their end, and little
will remain but those of his authors.

(59) "It was at this time," says Dr. Burney, "that dancing
seemed first to gain the ascendant over music, by the superior
talents of Mademoiselle Heinel, whose grace and execution were
so perfect as to eclipse all other excellence. Crowds
assembled at the Opera-house, more for the gratification of the
eye than the ear; for neither the invention of a new composer,
nor the talents of new singers, attracted the public to the
theatre, which was almost abandoned till the arrival of this
lady, whose extraordinary merit had an extraordinary
recompense; for, besides the six hundred pounds' salary allowed
her by the Honourable Mr. Hobart, as manager, she was
complimented with a regallo of six hundred more from the
Maccaroni Club. 'E molto particulare,' said Cocchi, the
Composer; 'ma quei Inglesi non fanno conto d'alcuna cosa se non
ben pagata:' It is very extraordinary that the English set no
value upon any thing but what they pay an exorbitant price
for."-E.

(60) The Parliaments of Besan`con, Bourdeaux,
Toulouse and Britany, were, in succession, totally suppressed
by Louis XV. New courts were assembled in their stead; most of
the former members being sent into banishment.-E.

Letter 35 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Arlington Street, Sept. 7, 1771. (page 61)

I arrived yesterday,(61) within an hour or two after you was
gone, which mortified me exceedingly: Lord knows when I shall
see you. You are so active and so busy, and cast bullets(62)
and build bridges, are pontifex maximus, and, like Sir John
Thorold or Cimon, triumph over land and wave,
that one can never get a word with you. Yet I am very well
worth a general's or a politician's ear. I have been deep in
all the secrets of France, and confidant of some of the
principals of both parties. I know what is, and is to be,
though I am neither priest nor conjuror -and have heard a vast
deal about breaking carabiniers and grenadiers; though, as
usual, I dare say I shall give a woful account of both. The
worst part is, that by the most horrid oppression and injustice
their finances will very soon be in good order-unless some
bankrupt turns Ravaillac, which will not surprise me. The
horror the nation has conceived of the King and Chancellor
makes it probable that the latter, at least, will be
sacrificed. He seems not to be without apprehension, and has
removed from the King's library a MS. trial of a chancellor
who was condemned to be hanged under Charles VII. For the
King, qui a fait ses `epreuves, and not to his honour, you will
not wonder that he lives in terrors.

I have executed all Lady Ailesbury's commissions; but mind, I
do not commission you to tell her, for you would certainly
forget it. As you will, no doubt, come to town to report who
burnt Portsmouth;(63) I will meet you here, if I am apprised of
the day. Your niece's marriage,(64) pleases me extremely.
Though I never saw him till last night, I know a great deal of
her future husband, and like his character. His person is much
better than I expected, and far preferable to many of the fine
young moderns. He is better than Sir Watkin Williams Wynne, at
least as well as the Duke of Devonshire, and Adonis compared to
the charming Mr. Fitzpatrick. Adieu!

(61) Mr. Walpole arrived at Paris on the '10th of July, and
left it on the 2d of September-E.

(62) Mr. Conway was now at the head of the ordnance, but with
the title and appointments of lieutenant-general only. The
particular circumstances attending this are thus recorded in a
letter from Mr. Walpole to another correspondent at the time
(January 1770), and deserve to be known:--"The King offered the
mastership of the ordnance, on Lord Granby's resignation, to
Mr. Conway, who is only lieutenant-general of it: he said he
had lived in friendship with Lord Granby, and would not profit
by his spoils; but, as he thought he could do some essential
service in the office, where there were many abuses, if his
Majesty would be pleased to let him continue as he is, be would
do the business of the office without accepting the salary."-E.

(63) On the 27th of July, a fire had broken out in the dockyard
at Portsmouth, which, as it might be highly prejudicial to the
country at that period, excited universal alarm. The loss
sustained by it, which at first was supposed to be half a
million, is said to have been about one hundred and fifty
thousand pounds.-E.

(64) The marriage of Lady Gertrude Seymour Conway to Lord
Villiers, afterwards Earl of Grandison.

Letter 36 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.
Strawberry Hill, Sept. 10, 1771. (page 62)

However melancholy the occasion is, I can but give you a
thousand thanks, dear Sir-., for the kind trouble you have
taken, and the information you have given me about poor Mr.
Gray. I received your first letter at Paris; the last I found
at my house in town, where I arrived only on Friday last. The
circumstance of the professor refusing to rise in the night and
visit him, adds to the shock. Who is that true professor of
physic? Jesus! is their absence to murder as well as their
presence?

I have not heard from Mr. Mason, but I have written to him. Be
so good as to tell the Master at Pembroke,(65) though I have
not the honour of knowing him, how sensible I am of his
proposed attention to me, and how much I feel for him in losing
a friend of so excellent a genius. Nothing will allay my own
concern like seeing any of his compositions that I have not yet
seen. It is buying them too dear--but when the author is
irreparably lost, the produce of his Mind is the next best
possession. I have offered my press to Mr. Mason, and hope it
will be accepted.

Many thanks for the cross, dear Sir; it is precisely what I
wished. I hope you and Mr. Essex preserve your resolution of
passing a few days here between this and Christmas. Just at
present I am not My own master, having stepped into the middle
of a sudden match in my own family. Lord Hertford is going to
marry his third daughter to Lord Villiers, son of Lady
Grandison, the present wife of Sir Charles Montagu. We are all
felicity, and in a round of dinners. I am this minute returned
from Beaumont-lodge, at Old Windsor, where Sir Charles
Grandison lives. I will let you know, if the papers do not,
when our festivities are subsided.

I shall receive with gratitude from Mr. Tyson either drawing or
etching of our departed friend; but wish not to have it
inscribed to me, as it is an honour, more justly due to Mr.
Stonehewer. If the Master of Pembroke will accept a copy of a
small picture I have of Mr. Gray, painted soon after the
publication of his Ode on Eton, it shall be at his service--and
after his death I beg, it may be bequeathed to his college.
Adieu!

(65) Dr. James Brown. Gray used to call him "le petit bon
homme;" and Cole, in his Athene Cantab, says of him--"He is a
very worthy man, a good scholar, small, and short-sighted." In
the Chatham Correspondence there will be found an interesting
letter from the Master of Pembroke to Lord Chatham, in which he
thus speaks of his illustrious son, the future minister of this
country: " Notwithsanding the illness of your son, I have
myself seen, and have heard enough from his tutors, to be
convinced both of his extraordinary genius and most amiable
disposition. He promises fair, indeed to be one of those
extraordinary persons whose eminent parts, equalled by as
eminent industry, continue in a progressive state throughout
their lives; such persons appear to be formed by Heaven to
assist and bless mankind." Vol. iv. p. 311.-E.

Letter 37 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.
Strawberry Hill, Oct. 12, 1771. (page 63)

Dear Sir,
As our wedding will not be so soon as I expected, and as I
should be unwilling You Should take a journey in bad weather, I
wish it may be convenient to you and Mr. Essex to come hither
on the 25th day of this present month. If one can depend on
any season, it is on the chill suns of October, which, like an
elderly beauty, are less capricious than spring or summer. Our
old-fashioned October, you know, reached eleven days into
modern November, and I still depend on that reckoning, when I
have a mind to protract the year.

Lord Ossory is charmed with Mr. Essex's cross(66) and wishes
much to consult him on the proportions. Lord Ossory has taken a
small house very near mine; is now, and will be here again,
after Newmarket. He is determined to erect it at Ampthill, and
I have written the following lines to record the reason:

In days of old here Ampthill's towers were seen;
The mournful refuge of an injured queen.
Here flowed her pure, but unavailing tears;
Here blinded zeal sustain'd her sinking years.
Yet Freedom hence-her radiant banners waved,
And love avenged a realm by priests enslaved.
From Catherine's wrongs a nation's bliss was spread,
And Luther's light from Henry's lawless bed,

I hope the satire on Henry VIII. will make you excuse the
compliment to Luther, Which, like most poetic compliments, does
not come from my heart. I only like him better than Henry,
Calvin, and the Church of Rome, who were bloody persecutors.
Calvin was an execrable villain, and the worst of all; for he
copied those whom he pretended to correct. Luther was as
jovial as Wilkes, and served the cause of liberty without
canting. Yours most sincerely.

(66) Mr. Cole applied to Mr. Essex, who furnished a design for
the cross, which was followed.

Letter 38 To The Rev Mr. Cole.
Strawberry Hill, Oct. 23, 1771. (page 63)

I am sorry, dear Sir, that I cannot say your answer is as
agreeable and entertaining as you flatter me my letter was; but
consider, you are prevented coming to me, and have flying pains
of rheumatism--either were sufficient to spoil your letter.

I am sure of being here till to-morrow se'nnight, the last of
this month; consequently I may hope to see Mr. Essex here on
Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday next. After that I cannot answer
for myself, on account of our wedding, which depends on the
return of a courier from Ireland. If I can command any days
certain in November, I will give you notice: and yet I shall
have a scruple of dragging you so far from home at such a
season. I will leave it to your option, only begging you to be
assured that I shall always be most happy to see you.

I am making a very curious purchase at Paris, the complete
armour of Francis the First. It is gilt, in relief, and is
very rich and beautiful. It comes out of the Crozat
collection.(67) I am building a small chapel, too, in my
garden, to receive two valuable pieces of antiquity, and which
have been presents singularly lucky for me. They are the
window from Bexhill, with the portraits of Henry III. and his
Queen, procured for me by Lord Ashburnham. The other, great
part of the tomb of Capoccio, mentioned in my Anecdotes of
Painting on the subject of the Confessor's shrine, and sent to
me from Rome by Mr. Hamilton, our minister at Naples. It is
very extraordinary that I should happen to be master of these
curiosities. After next summer, by which time my castle and
collection will be complete (for if I buy more I must build
another castle for another collection), I propose to form
another catalogue and description, and shall take the liberty
to call on you for your assistance. In the mean time there is
enough new to divert you at present.

(67) This curiosity was at first estimated at a thousand
crowns, but Madame du Deffand finally purchased it for Walpole
for fifty louis. "Ce bijou," she says, "me parait un peu cher
et ressemble beaucoup aux casques du Ch`ateau d,Otrante: si
vous persistez `a le d`esirer, je le payerai, je le ferai
encaisser et Partir sur le champ. C'est certainement une
pi`ece tr`es belle et tr`es rare, mais infiniment ch`ere."-E.

Letter 39 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Late Strawberry Hill, Jan. 7, 1772. (page 64)

You have read of my calamity without knowing it, and will pity
me when you do. I have been blown up; my castle is blown up;
Guy Fawkes has been about my house: and the 5th of November has
fallen on the 6th of January! In short, nine thousand
powder-mills broke loose yesterday morning on
Hounslow-heath;(68) a whole squadron of them came hither, and
have broken eight of my painted-glass windows; and the north
side of the castle looks as if it had stood a siege. The two
saints in the hall have suffered martyrdom! they have had their
bodies cut off, and nothing remains but their heads. The two
next great sufferers are indeed two of the least valuable,
being the passage-windows to the library and great parlour--a
fine pane is demolished in the round-room; and the window by
the gallery is damaged. Those in the cabinet, and
Holbein-room, and gallery, and blue-room, and green-closet,
etc. have escaped. As the storm came from the northwest, the
china-closet was not touched, nor a cup fell down. The
bow-window of brave old coloured glass, at Mr. Hindley's, is
massacred; and all the north sides of Twickenham and Brentford
are shattered. At London it was proclaimed an earthquake, and
half the inhabitants ran into the street.