Books: The Letters of Horace Walpole Volume 3

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Letter 99 To George Montagu, Esq.
Strawberry Hill, October 24, 1761. (page 156)

I have got two letters from you, and am sensibly pleased with
your satisfaction. I love your cousin for his behaviour to you;
he will never place his friendship better. His parts and
dignity, I did not doubt, would bear him out. I fear nothing but
your spirits and the frank openness of your heart; keep them
within bounds, and you will return in health, and with the
serenity I wish you long to enjoy.

You have heard our politics; they do not mend, sick of glory,
without being tired of war, and surfeited with unanimity before
it had finished its work, we are running into all kinds of
confusion. The city have bethought themselves, and have voted
that they will still admire Mr. Pitt; consequently, be, without
the cheek of seeming virtue, may do what he pleases. An address
of thanks to hit-() has been carried by one hundred and nine
against fifteen, and the city are to instruct their members; that
is, because we are disappointed of a Spanish war, we must have
one at home. Merciful! how old I am grown! here am I, not liking
a civil war! Do you know me? I am no longer that Gracchus, who,
when Mr. Bentley told him something or other, I don't know what,
would make a sect, answered quickly, "Will it make a party?" In
short, I think I am always to be in contradiction; now I am
loving my country.

Worksop(195) is burnt down; I don't know the circumstances; the
Duke and Duchess are at Bath; it has not been finished a month;
the last furniture was brought in for the Duke of York; I have
some comfort that I had seen it, and, except the bare chambers,
in which the Queen of Scots lodged, nothing remained of ancient
time.

I am much obliged to Mr. Hamilton's civilities; but I don't take
too much to myself; yet it is no drawback to think that he sees
an compliments your friendship for me. I shall use his
permission of sending you any thing that I think will bear the
sea; but how must I send it! by what conveyance to the sea, and
where deliver it? Pamphlets swarm already; none very good, and
chiefly grave; you would not have them. Mr. Glover has published
his long-hoarded Medea,(196) as an introduction to the House of
Commons; it had been more proper to usher him from school to the
University. There are a few good lines, not much conduct, and a
quantity of iambics, and trochaics, that scarce speak English,
and yet have no rhyme to keep one another in countenance. If his
chariot is stopped at Temple-bar, I suppose he will take it for
the Straits of Thermopylae, and be delivered of his first speech
before its time.

The catalogue of the Duke of Devonshire's collection is only in
the six volumes of the Description of London. I did print about
a dozen, and gave them all away so totally that on searching, I
had not reserved one for myself. When we are at leisure, I will
reprint a few more, and you shall have one for your Speaker. I
don't know who is to be ours: Prowse, they say, has refused; Sir
John Cust was the last I heard named: but I am here and know
nothing; sorry that I shall hear any thing on Tuesday se'nnight.

Pray pick me up any prints of lord-lieutenants, Irish bishops,
ladies --nay, or patriots; but I will not trouble you for a
snuff-box or toothpick-case, made of a bit of the Giant's
Causeway.

My anecdotes of Painting will scarcely appear before Christmas.
My gallery and cabinet are at a full stop till spring. but I
shall be sorry to leave it all in ten days; October, that scarce
ever deceived one before, has exhibited a deluge; but it was
recovered, and promised to behave well as long as it lives, like
a dying sinner. Good night!

P. S. My niece lost the coronation for only a daughter. It makes
me smile, when I reflect that you are come into the world again,
and that I have above half left it.

(195) The Duke of norfolk's seat at Worksop Manor,
Nottinghamshire, was burnt down on the 20th of October 1761. The
damage was estimated at one hundred thousand pounds. When the
Duke heard of it, he exclaimed, "God's will be done!" and the
Duchess, "How many besides us are sufferers by the like
calamity!" Evelyn, who visited Worksop in 1654, says, "The manor
belongs to the Earle of Arundel, and has to it a faire house at
the foote of an hill, in a park that affords a delicate
prospect."-E.

(196) Glover's tragedy of Medea was performed several times at
Drury-lane and Covent-garden, for the benefit of Mrs. Yates,
whose spirited acting Gave it considerable effect.-E.

Letter 100 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Strawberry Hill, Oct. 26, 1761. (page 157)

and how strange it seems! You are talking to me of the King's
wedding, while we are thinking of a civil war. Why, the King's
wedding was a century ago, almost two months; even the coronation
things that happened half an age ago, is quite forgot. The post
to Germany cannot keep pace with our revolutions. Who knows but
you may still be thinking that Mr. Pitt is the most disinterested
man in the world? Truly, as far as the votes of a common-council
can make him so, he is. Like Cromwell, he has always promoted
the self-denying ordinance, and has contrived to be excused from
it himself. The city could no longer choose who should be their
man of virtue; there was not one left - by all rules they ought
next to have pitched upon one who was the oldest offender:
instead of that, they have reelected the most recent; and, as if
virtue was a borough, Mr. Pitt is rechosen for it, on vacating
his seat. Well, but all this is very serious: I shall offer a
prophetic picture, and shall be very glad if I am not a true
soothsayer. The city have voted an address of thanks to Mr.
Pitt, and given instructions to their members; the chief articles
of which are, to promote an inquiry into the disposal of the
money that has been granted, and to consent to no peace, unless
we are to retain all, or near all, our conquests. Thus the city
of London usurp the right of making peace and war. But is the
government to be dictated to by one town? By no means. But
suppose they are not -what is the consequence? How will the
money be raised? If it cannot be raised without them, Mr. Pitt
must again be minister: that you think would be easily
accommodated. Stay, stay; he and Lord Temple have declared
against the whole cabinet council. Why, that they have done
before now, and yet have acted with them again. It is very true;
but a little word has escaped Mr. Pitt, which never entered into
his former declarations; nay, nor into Cromwell's, nor Hugh
Capet's, nor Julius Caesar's, nor any reformer's of ancient time.
He has happened to say, he will guide. Now, though the cabinet
council are mighty willing to be guided, when they cannot help
it, yet they wish to have appearances saved: they cannot be fond
of being told they are to be guided still less, that other people
should be told so. Here, then, is Mr. Pitt and the
common-council on one hand, the great lords on the other. I
protest, I do not see but it will come to this. Will it allay
the confusion, if Mr. Fox is retained on the side of the court?
Here are no Whigs and Tories, harmless people, that are content
with worrying one another for i hundred and fifty years together.
The new parties are, I will, and you shall not; and their
principles do not admit delay. However, this age is of suppler
mould than some of its predecessors; and this may come round
again, by a coup de baguette, when one least expects it. If it
should not, the honestest part one can take is to look on, and
try if one can do any good if matters go too far.

I am charmed with the Castle of Hercules;(197) it is the boldest
pile I have seen since I travelled in Fairyland. You ought to
have delivered a princess imprisoned by enchanters in his club:
she, in gratitude, should have fallen in love with you; your
constancy should have been immaculate. The devil knows how it
would have ended--I don't--and so I break off my romance.

You need not beer the French any more this year: it cannot be
ascribed to Mr. Pitt; and the mob won't thank you. If we are to
have a warm campaign in Parliament, I hope you will be sent for.
Adieu! We take the field tomorrow se'nnight.

P. S. You will be sorry to hear that Worksop is burned. My Lady
Waldegrave has got a daughter, and your brother an ague.

(197) Alluding to a description of a building in Hesse Cassel,
given by Mr. Conway in one of his letters.

Letter 101 To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street, Nov. 7, 1761. (page 159)

You will rejoice to hear that your friend Mr. Amyand is going to
marry the dowager Lady Northampton; she has two thousand pounds
a-year, and twenty thousand in money. Old Dunch(198) is dead,
and Mrs. Felton Hervey(199) was given over last night, but is
still alive.

Sir John Cust is Speaker, and bating his nose, the chair seems
well filled. There are so many new faces in this Parliament,
that I am not at all acquainted with it.

The enclosed print will divert you, especially the baroness in
the right-hand corner--so ugly, and so satisfied: the Athenian
head was intended for Stewart; but was so like, that Hogarth was
forced to cut off the nose. Adieu!

(198) Widow of Edmund Dunch, Esq. comptroller of the household of
George the First.-E.

(199) Wife of the Hon. Felton Hervey, ninth son of John, first
Earl of Bristol.-E.

Letter 102 To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street, Nov. 28, 1761. (page 159)

I am much obliged for the notice of Sir Compton's illness; if you
could send me word of peace too, I should be completely satisfied
on Mr. Conway's account. He has been in the late action, and
escaped, at a time that, I flattered myself, the campaign -was at
an end. However, I trust it is now. You will have been
concerned for young Courtney. The war, we hear, is to be
transferred to these islands; most probably to yours. The
black-rod I hope, like a herald, is a sacred personage.

There has been no authentic account of the coronation published;
if there should be, I will send it. When I am at Strawberry, I
believe I can make you out a list of those that walked; but I
have no memorandum in town. If Mr. Bentley's play is printed in
Ireland, I depend on your sending me two copies.

There has been a very private ball at court, consisting of not
above twelve or thirteen couple; some of the lords of the
bedchamber, most of the ladies, the maids of honour, and six
strangers, Lady Caroline Russell, Lady Jane Stewart, Lord
Suffolk, Lord Northampton, Lord Mandeville, and Lord Grey.
Nobody sat by, but the Princess, the Duchess of Bedford, and Lady
Bute. They began before seven, danced till one, and parted
without a supper.

Lady Sarah Lenox has refused Lord Errol; the Duke of Bedford is
privy seal; Lord Thomond cofferer; Lord George Cavendish
comptroller; George Pitt goes minister to Turin; and Mrs. Speed
must go thither, as she is marrying the Baron de Perrier, Count
Virry's son.(200) Adieu! Commend me to your brother.

(200) "My old friend Miss SPeed has done what the world calls a
very foolish thing; she has married the Baron de la Poyri`ere,
son to the Sardinian minister, the Count de Viry. He is about
twenty-eight years old (ten years younger than herself), but
looks nearer This is not the effect of debauchery; for he is a
very sober and good-natured man honest and no conjurer." Gray to
Wliarton. Works, vol. iii. p. 263.-E.

Letter 103 To The Countess Of Ailesbury.
Arlington Street, Nov. 28, 1761. (page 160)

Dear Madam,
You are so bad and so good, that I don't know how to treat you.
You give me every mark of kindness but letting me hear from you.
You send me charming drawings the moment I trouble you with a
commission, and you give Lady Cecilia(201) commissions for
trifles of my writing, in the most obliging manner. I have taken
the latter off her hands.- The Fugitive Pieces, and the Catalogue
of Royal and Noble Authors shall be conveyed to you directly.
Lady Cecilia and I agree how we lament the charming suppers
there, every time we pass the corner of Warwick Street! We have
a little comfort for your sake and our own, in believing that the
campaign is at an end, at least for this year--but they tell us,
it is to recommence here or in Ireland. You have nothing to do
with that. Our politics, I think, will soon be as warm as our
war. Charles Townshend is to be lieutenant-general to Mr. Pitt.
The Duke of Bedford is privy seal; Lord Thomond, cofferer; Lord
George Cavendish, comptroller.

Diversions, you know, Madam, are never at high watermark before
Christmas: yet operas flourish pretty well: those on Tuesdays are
removed to Mondays, because the Queen likes the burlettas, and
the King cannot go on Tuesdays, his postdays. On those nights we
have the middle front box railed in, where Lady Mary(202) and I
sit in triste state like a Lord Mayor and Lady Mayoress. The
night before last there was a private ball at court, which began
at half an hour after six, lasted till one, and finished without
a supper. The King danced the whole time with the Queen, Lady
Augusta with her four younger brothers. The other performers
were: the two Duchesses of Ancaster and Hamilton, who danced
little; Lady Effingham, and Lady Egremont who danced much; the
six maids of honour; Lady Susan Stewart, as attending Lady
Augusta; and Lady Caroline Russel, and Lady Jane Stewart, the
only women not of the family. Lady Northumberland is at Bath;
Lady Weymouth lies in; Lady Bolingbroke was there in Waiting, but
in black gloves, so did not dance. The men, besides the royals,
were Lords March and Lord Eglinton, of the bedchamber: Lord
Cantalope, vice-chamberlain; Lord Huntingdon; and four strangers,
Lord Mandeville, Lord Northampton, lord Suffolk, and lord Grey.
No sitters-by, but the Princess, the Duchess of Bedford, and Lady
Bute.

If it had not been for this ball, I don't know how I should have
furnished a decent letter. Pamphlets on Mr. Pitt are the whole
conversation, and none of them worth sending cross the water: at
least I, who am said to write some of them, think so; by which
you may perceive I am not much flattered with the imputation.
There must be new personages at least, before I write on any
side. Mr. Pitt and the Duke of Newcastle! I should as soon think
of informing the world that Miss Chudleigh is no vestal. You
will like better to see some words which Mr. Gray has writ, at
Miss Speed's request, to an old air of Geminiani: the thought is
from the French.

Thyrsis, when we parted, swore
Ere the spring he would return.
Ah! what means yon violet flower,
And the buds that deck the thorn?
'Twas the lark that upward sprung,
'Twas the nightingale that sung.

Idle notes! untimely green!
Why this unavailing haste?
Western gales and skies serene
Speak not always winter past.
Cease my doubts, my fears to move;
Spare the Honour of my love.

Adieu, Madam, your most faithful servant.

(201) Lady Cecilia Johnston.

(202) lady Mary Coke.

Letter 104 To Sir David Dalrymple.(203)
Nov. 30, 1761. (page 161)

I am much obliged to you, Sir, for the specimen of letters(204)
you have been so good as to send me. The composition is
touching, and the printing very beautiful. I am still more
pleased with the design of the work; nothing gives so just an
idea of an age as genuine letters; nay, history waits for its
last seal from them. I have an immense collection in my hands,
chiefly of the very time on which you are engaged: but they are
not my own.

If I had received your commands in summer when I was at
Strawberry Hill, and at leisure, I might have picked you out
something to your purpose; at present I have not time, from
Parliament and business, to examine them: yet to show you, Sir,
that I have great desire to oblige you and contribute to your
work, I send you the following singular paper, which I have
obtained from Dr. Charles lyttelton, Dean of Exeter, whose name I
will beg you to mention in testimony of his kindness, and as
evidence for the authenticity of the letter, which he copied from
the original in the hands of Bishop Tanner, in the year 1733. It
is from Anne of Denmark, to the Marquis of Buckingham.

"Anna R.,

"My kind dogge, if I have any power or credit with you, let me
have a trial of it at this time, in dealing sincerely and
earnestly with the King, that Sir Walter Raleigh's life may not
be called in question. If you do it, so that the success answer
my expectation, assure yourself that I will take it
extraordinarily kindly at your hands, and rest one that wisheth
you well, and desires you to continue still as you have been, a
true servant to your master."

I have begun Mr. Hume's history, and got almost through the first
volume. It is amusing to one who ]knows a little of his own
country, but I fear would not teach much to a beginner; details
are so much avoided by him, and the whole rather skimmed than
elucidated. I cannot say I think it very carefully performed.
Dr. Robertson's work I should expect would be more accurate.

P. S. There has lately appeared, in four little volumes, a
Chinese Tale, called Hau Kiou Choaan,(205) not very entertaining
from the incidents, but I think extremely so from the novelty of
the manner and the genuine representation of their customs.

(203) Now first collected.

(204) Probably Sir David's "Memorials and Letters relating to the
History of Britain in the Reigns of James the First and Charles
the First," which were published in 1766, from the originals in
the Advocates' Library.-E.

(205) This pleasing little novel, in which the manners of the
Chinese are painted to the life, was a translation from the
Chinese by Mr. Wilkinson, and revised for publication by Dr.
Percy.-E.

Letter 105 To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street, Dec. 8, 1761. (page 162)

I return you the list of prints, and shall be glad you will bring
me all to which I have affixed this mark X. The rest I have; yet
the expense of the whole list would not ruin me. Lord Farnham,
who, I believe, departed this morning, brings you the list of the
Duke of Devonshire's pictures.

I have been told that Mr. Bourk's history was of England, not of
Ireland; I am glad it is the latter, for I am now in Mr. Hume's
England, and would fain read no more. I not only know what has
been written, but what would be written. Our story is so
exhausted, that to make it new, they really make it new. Mr.
Hume has exalted Edward the Second and depressed Edward the
Third. The next historian, I suppose, will make James the First
a hero, and geld Charles the Second.

Fingal is come out; I have not yet got through it; not but, it is
very fine-yet I cannot at once compass an epic poem now. It
tires me to death to read how many ways a warrior is like the
moon, or the sun, or a rock, or a lion, or the ocean. Fingal is
a brave collection of similes, and will serve all the boys at
Eton and Westminster for these twenty years. I will trust you
with a secret, but you must not disclose it; I should be ruined
with my Scotch friends; in short, I cannot believe it genuine; I
cannot believe a regular poem of six books has been preserved,
uncorrupted, by oral tradition, from times before Christianity
was introduced into the island. What! preserved unadulterated by
savages dispersed among mountains, and so often driven from their
dens, so wasted by wars civil and foreign! alas one man ever got
all by heart? I doubt it; were parts preserved by some, other
parts by others? Mighty lucky, that the tradition was never
interrupted, nor any part lost-not a verse, not a measure, not
the sense! luckier and luckier. I have been extremely qualified
myself lately for this Scotch memory; we have had nothing but a
coagulation of rains, fogs, and frosts, and though they have
clouded all understanding, I suppose, if I had tried, I should
have found that they thickened, and gave great consistence to my
remembrance.

You want news--I must make it, if I send it. To change the
dulness of the scene I went to the play, where I had not been
this winter. They are so crowded, that though I went before six,
I got no better place than a fifth row, where I heard very ill,
and was pent for five hours without a soul near me that I knew.
It was Cymbeline, and appeared to me as long as if every body in
it went really to Italy in every act,, and came back again. With
a few pretty passages and a scene or two, it is so absurd and
tiresome, that I am persuaded Garrick(206) * * * * *

(206) The rest of this letter is lost.

Letter 106 To Sir David Dalrymple.(207)
December 21, 1761. (page 163)

Your specimen pleases me, and I give you many thanks for
promising me the continuation. You will, I hope, find less
trouble with printers than I have done. Just when my book was, I
thought, ready to appear, my printer ran away, and has left it
very imperfect. This is the fourth I have tried, and I own it
discourages me. Our low people are so corrupt and such knaves,
that being cheated and disappointed are all the fruits of
attempting to amuse oneself or others. Literature must struggle
with many difficulties. They who print for profit print only for
profit; we, who print to entertain or instruct others, are the
bubbles of our designs, defrauded, abused, pirated--don't you
think, Sir, one need have resolution? Mine is very nearly
exhausted.

(207) Now first collected.

Letter 107 To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street, Dec. 23, 1761. Past midnight. (page 164)

I am this minute come home, and find such a delightful letter
from you, that I cannot help answering it, and telling you so
before I sleep. You need not affirm, that your ancient wit and
pleasantry are revived; your letter is but five and twenty, and I
will forgive any vanity, that is so honest, and so well founded.
Ireland I see produces wonders of more sorts than one; if my Lord
Anson was to go lord-lieutenant, I suppose he would return a
ravisher. How different am I from this state of revivification!
Even such talents as I had are far from blooming again; and while
my friends, or contemporaries, or predecessors, are rising to
preside over the fame of this age, I seem a mere antediluvian;
must live upon what little stock of reputation I had acquired,
and indeed grow so indifferent, that I can only wonder how those,
whom I thought as old as myself, can interest themselves so much
about a world, whose faces I hardly know. You recover your
spirits and wit, Rigby is grown a speaker, Mr. Bentley a poet,
while I am nursing one or two gouty friends, and sometimes
lamenting that I am likely to survive the few I have left.
Nothing tempts me to launch out again; every day teaches me how
much I was mistaken in my own parts, and I am in no danger now
but of thinking I am grown too wise; for every period of life has
its mistake.

Mr. Bentley's relation to Lord Rochester by the St. Johns is not
new to me, and you had more reason to doubt of their affinity by
the former marrying his mistress, than to ascribe their
consanguinity to it. I shall be glad to see the epistle: are not
"The Wishes" to be acted? remember me, if they are printed; and I
shall thank you for this new list of prints.

I have mentioned names enough in this letter to lead me naturally
to new ill usage I have received. Just when I thought my book
finished, my printer ran away, and had left eighteen sheets in
the middle of the book untouched, having amused me with sending
proofs. He had got into debt, and two girls with child; being
two, he could not marry two Hannahs. You see my luck; I had been
kind to this fellow; in short, if the faults of my life had been
punished as severely as my merits have been, I should be the most
unhappy of beings; but let us talk of something else.

I have picked up at Mrs. Dunch's auction the sweetest Petitot in
the world-the very picture of James the Second, that he gave Mrs.
Godfrey,(208) and I paid but six guineas and a half for it. I
will not tell you how vast a commission I had given; but I will
own, that about the hour of sale, I drove about the door to find
what likely bidders there were. The first coach I saw was the
Chudleighs; could I help concluding, that a maid of honour, kept
by a duke, would purchase the portrait of a duke kept by a maid
of honour-but I was mistaken. The Oxendens reserved the best
pictures; the fine china, and even the diamonds, sold for
nothing; for nobody has a shilling. We shall be beggars if we
don't conquer Peru within this half year.

If you are acquainted with my lady Barrymore, pray tell her that
in less than two hours t'other night the Duke of Cumberland lost
four hundred and fifty pounds at loo; Miss Pelham won three
hundred, and I the rest. However, in general, loo is extremely
gone to decay; I am to play at Princess Emily's to-morrow for the
first time this winter, and it is with difficulty she has made a
party.

My Lady Pomfret is dead on the road to Bath; and unless the
deluge stops, and the fogs disperse, I think we shall all die. A
few days ago, on the cannon firing for the King going to the
House, some body asked what it was? M. de Choiseul replied,
"Apparemment, c'est qu'on voit le soleil."