Books: The Letters of Horace Walpole Volume 3

H >> Horace Walpole >> The Letters of Horace Walpole Volume 3

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50 | 51 | 52 | 53 | 54 | 55 | 56 | 57 | 58 | 59 | 60 | 61 | 62 | 63 | 64 | 65 | 66 | 67

Shall I fill up the rest of my paper with some extempore lines
that I wrote t'other night on Lady Mary Coke having St. Anthony's
fire in her cheek! You will find nothing in them to contradict
what I have said in the former part of my letter; they rather
confirm it.

No rouge you wear, nor can a dart
>From Love's bright quiver wound your heart.
And thought you, Cupid and his mother
Would unrevenged their anger smother?
No, no, from heaven they sent the fire
That boasts St. Anthony its sire;
They pour'd it on one peccant part,
Inflamed your cheek, if not your heart.
In vain-for see the crimson rise,
And dart fresh lustre through your eyes
While ruddier drops and baffled pain
Enhance the white they mean to stain.
Ah! nymph, on that unfading face
With fruitless pencil Time shall trace
His lines malignant, since disease
But gives you mightier power to please.

Willis is dead, and Pratt is to be chief justice; Mr. Yorke
attorney general; solicitor, I don't know who. Good night! the
watchman cries past one!

(208) Arabella Churchill, sister of the great Duke of
Marlborough, was the mistress of James the Second while Duke of
York, by whom she had four children; the celebrated Duke of
Berwick, the Duke of Albemarle, and two daughters. She
afterwards became the wife of Colonel Charles Godfrey, master of
the jewel office, and died in 1714, leaving by him two daughters,
Charlotte Viscountess Falmouth, and Elizabeth, wife of Edmund
Dunch, Esq.-E.

Letter 108 To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street, Dec. 30, 1761. (page 165)

I have received two more letters from You since I wrote last
week, and I like to find by them that you are so well and so
happy. As nothing has happened of change in my situation but a
few more months passed, I have nothing to tell you new of myself.
Time does not sharpen my passions or pursuits, and the experience
I have had by no means prompts me to make new connexions. 'Tis a
busy world, and well adapted to those who love to bustle in it; I
loved it once, loved its very tempests--now I barely open my
windows to view what course the storm takes. The town, who, like
the devil, when one has once sold oneself' to him, never permits
one to have done playing the fool, believe I have a great hand in
their amusements; but to write pamphlets, I mean as a volunteer,
one must love or hate, and I have the satisfaction of doing
neither. I Would not be at the trouble of composing a distich to
achieve a revolution. 'Tis equal to me what names are on the
scene. In the general view, the prospect is very dark: the
Spanish war, added to the load, almost oversets our most sanguine
heroism: and now we have in opportunity of conquering all the
world, by being at war with all the world, we seem to doubt a
little of our abilities. On a survey
of our situation, I comfort myself with saying, "Well, what is it
to me?" A selfishness that is far from anxious, when it is the
first thought in one's constitution; not so agreeable when it is
the last, and adopted by necessity alone.

You drive your expectations much too fast, in thinking my
Anecdotes of Painting are ready to appear, in demanding three
volumes. You will see but two, and it will be February first.
True, I have written three, but I question whether the third will
be published at all; certainly not soon; it is not a work of
merit enough to cloy the town with a great deal at once. My
printer ran away, and left a third part of the two first volumes
unfinished. I suppose he is writing a tragedy himself, or an
epistle to my Lord Melcomb, or a panegyric on my Lord Bute.

Jemmy Pelham(209) is dead, and has left to his servants what
little his servants had left him. Lord Ligonier was killed by
the newspapers, and wanted to prosecute them; his lawyer told him
it was impossible--a tradesman indeed might prosecute, as such a
report might affect his credit. "Well, then," said the old man,
"I may prosecute too, for I can prove I have been hurt by this
'report I was going to marry a great fortune, who thought I was
but seventy-four; the newspapers have said I am eighty, and she
will not have me."

Lord Charlemont's Queen Elizabeth I know perfectly; he outbid me
for it; is his villa finished? I am well pleased with the design
in Chambers. I have been my out-of-town with Lord Waldecrave,
Selwyn, and Williams; it was melancholy the missing poor
Edgecombe, who was constantly of the Christmas and Easter
parties. Did you see the charming picture Reynolds painted for
me of him, Selwyn, and Gilly Williams? It is by far one of the
best things he has executed. He has just finished a pretty
whole-length of Lady Elizabeth Keppel,(210) in the bridemaid's
habit, sacrificing to Hymen.

If the Spaniards land in Ireland, shall you make the campaign?
No. no, come back to England; you and I will not be patriots,
till the Gauls are in the city, and we must take our great chairs
and our fasces, and be knocked on the head with decorum in St.
James's market. Good night!

P. S. I am told that they bind in vellum better at Dublin than
any where; pray bring me one book of their binding, as well as it
can be done, and I will not mind the price. If Mr. Bourk's
history appear,-, before your return, let it be that.

(209) The Hon. James Pelham, of Crowhurst, Sussex. He had been
principal secretary to Frederick Prince of Wales, and for nearly
forty years secretary to the several lords-chamberlain.-E.

(210) She was daughter of the Earl of Albemarle, and married to
the Marquis of Tavistock.

Letter 109 To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street, Jan. 26, 1762. (page 167)

We have had as many mails due from Ireland as you had from us. I
have at last received a line from you; it tells me you are well,
which I am always glad to hear; I cannot say you tell me much
more. My health is so little subject to alteration, and so
preserved by temperance, that it is not worth repetition; thank
God you may conclude it is good, if I do not say to the contrary.

Here is nothing new but preparations for conquest, and approaches
to bankruptcy; and the worst is, the former will advance the
latter at least as much as impede it. You say the Irish will
live and die with your cousin: I am glad they are so well
disposed. I have lived long enough to doubt whether all, who
like to live with one, would be so ready to die with one. I know
it is not pleasant to have the time arrived when one looks about
to see whether they would or not; but you are in a country of
more sanguine complexion, and where I believe the clergy do not
deny the laity the cup.

The Queen's brother arrived yesterday; your brother, Prince John,
has been here about a week; I am to dine with him to-day at Lord
Dacre's with the Chute. Our burlettas are gone out of fashion;
do the Atnicis come hither next year, or go to Guadaloupe, as is
said? I have been told that a lady Kingsland(211) at Dublin has
a picture of Madame Grammont by Petitot; I don't know who Lady
Kingsland is, whether rich or poor, but I know there is nothing I
would not give for such a picture. I wish you would hunt it; and
if the dame is above temptation, do try if you could obtain a
copy in water colours, if there is any body in Dublin could
execute it.

The Duchess of Portland has lately enriched me exceedingly; nine
portraits of the court of Louis quatorze! Lord Portland brought
them over; they hung in the nursery at Bulstrode, the children
amused themselves with shooting at them. I have got them, but I
will tell you no more, you don't deserve it; you write to me as
if I were your godfather: "Honoured Sir, I am brave and well, my
cousin George is well, we drink your health every night, and beg
your blessing." This is the sum total of all your letters. I
thought in a new country, and with your spirits and humour, you
could have found something to tell me. I shall only ask you now
when you return; but I declare I will not correspond with you: I
don't write letters to divert myself, but in expectation of
returns; in short, you are extremely in disgrace with me; I have
measured my letters for sometime, and for the future will answer
you paragraph for paragraph. You yourself don't seem to find
letter-writing so amusing as to pay itself. Adieu!

(211) Nicholas Barnewall, third Viscount Kingsland, married Mary,
daughter of Frances Jennings, sister to the celebrated Sarah
Duchess of Marlborough, by George Count Hamilton: "by which
marriage," says Walpole, "the pictures I saw at Tarvey, Lord
Kingsland's house, came to him: I particularly recollect the
portraits of Count Hamilton and his brother Anthony, and two of
Madame Grammont; one taken in her youth, the other in advanced
age."-E.

Letter 110 To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street, Feb. 2, 1762. (page 168)

I scolded YOU in my last, but I shall forgive you if you return
soon to England, as you talk of doing; for though you are an
abominable correspondent, and only write to beg letters, you are
good company, and I have a notion I shall still be glad to see
You.

Lady Mary Wortley is arrived;(212) I have seen her; I think her
avarice, her dirt, and her vivacity, are all increased. Her
dress, like her languages, is a gralimatias of several countries;
the groundwork rags, and the embroidery nastiness. She needs no
cap, no handkerchief, no gown, no petticoat, no shoes. An old
black-laced hood represents the first; the fur of a horseman's
coat, which replaces the third, serves for the second; a dimity
petticoat is deputy, and officiates for the fourth; and slippers
act the part of the last. When I was at Florence, and she was
expected there, we were drawing Sortes Virgili-anas for her; we
literally drew

Insanam vatem aspicies.

It would have been a stronger prophecy now, even than it was
then.

You told me not a word of Mr. Macnaughton,(213) and I have a
great mind to be as coolly indolent about our famous ghost in
Cock-lane. Why should one steal half an hour from one's
amusements to tell a story to a friend in another island? I
could send you volumes on the ghost, and I believe if I were to
stay a little, I might send its life, dedicated to my Lord
Dartmouth, by the ordinary of Newgate, its two great patrons. A
drunken parish clerk set it on foot out of revenge, the
Methodists have adopted it, and the whole town of london think of
nothing else. Elizabeth Canning and the Rabbit-woman were modest
impostors in comparison of this, which goes on Without saving the
least appearances. The Archbishop, who would not suffer the
Minor to be acted in ridicule of the Methodists, permits this
farce to be played every night, and I shall not be surprised if
they perform in the great hall at Lambeth. I went to hear it,
for it is not an apparition, but an audition. We set out from
the Opera, changed our clothes at Northumberland-house, the Duke
of York, Lady Northumberland, Lady Mary Coke, Lord Hertford, and
I, all in one hackney coach, and drove to the spot: it rained
torrents; yet the lane was full of mob, and the house so full we
could not get in; at last they discovered it was the Duke of
York, and the company squeezed themselves into one another's
pockets to make room for us. The house, which is borrowed, and
to which the ghost has adjourned, is wretchedly small and
miserable; when we opened the chamber, in which were fifty
people, with no light but one tallow candle at the end, we
tumbled over the bed of the child to whom the ghost comes,
and whom they are murdering by inches in such insufferable heat
and stench. At the top of the room are ropes to dry clothes. I
asked, if we were to have rope-dancing between the acts? We had
nothing; they told us, as they would at a puppet-show, that it
would not come that night till seven in the morning, that is,
when there are only 'prentices and old women. We stayed however
till half an hour after one. The Methodists have promised them
contributions; provisions are sent in like forage, and all the
taverns and alehouses in the neighbourhood make fortunes. The
most diverting part is to hear people wondering when it will be
found out--as if there was any thing to find out--as if the
actors would make their noises when they can be discovered.
However, as this pantomime cannot last much longer, I hope Lady
Fanny Shirley will set up a ghost of her own at Twickenham, and
then you shall hear one. The Methodists, as Lord Aylesford
assured Mr. Chute two nights ago at Lord Dacre's have attempted
ghosts three times in Warwickshire. There, how good I am!

(212) Lady Mary Wortley Montagu remained at Venice till the death
of Mr. Wortley in this year when she yielded to the solicitations
of her daughter, the Countess of Bute, and, after an absence of
two-and-twenty years, began her journey to England, where she
arrived in October.-E.

(213) john Macnaughton, Esq. executed in December, 1761, for the
murder of Miss Knox, daughter of Andrew Knox, Esq. of Prehen,
member of parliament for Donegal. macnaughton, who had ruined
himself by gambling, sought to replenish his fortune by marriage
with this young lady, who had considerable expectations; but as
her friends would not consent to their union, and he failed both
in inveigling her into a secret marriage, and in compelling her
by the suits which he commenced in the ecclesiastical courts to
ratify an alleged promise of marriage, he revenged himself by
shooting her while riding in a carriage with her father.-E.

Letter 111 To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street, Feb. 6, 1762. (PAGE 169)

You must have thought me very negligent of your commissions; not
only in buying your ruffles, but in never mentioning them; but my
justification is most ample and verifiable. Your letters of Jan.
2d arrived but yesterday with the papers of Dec. 29. These are
the mails that have so long been missing, and were shipwrecked or
something on the Isle of Man. Now you see it was impossible for
me to buy you a pair of ruffles for the 18th of January, when I
did not receive the orders till the 5th of February.

You don't tell me a word (but that is not new to you) of Mr.
Hamilton's wonderful eloquence, which converted a whole House of
Commons on the five regiments. We have no such miracles here;
five regiments might work such prodigies, but I never knew mere
rhetoric gain above one or two proselytes at a time in all my
practice.

We have a Prince Charles here, the Queen's brother; he is like
her, but more like the Hows; low, but well made, good eyes and
teeth. Princess Emily is very ill, has been blistered, and been
blooded four times.

My books appear on Monday se'nnight: if I can find any quick
conveyance for them, you shall have them; if not, as you are
returning soon, I may as well keep them for you. Adieu! I grudge
every word I write to you.

Letter 112To The Rev. Mr. Cole.(214)
Tuesday, Feb. 7, 1762. (PAGE 170)

Dear Sir,
The little leisure I have to-day will, I trust, excuse my saying
very few words in answer to your obliging letter, of which no
part touches me more than what concerns your health, which,
however, I rejoice to hear is reestablishing itself.

I am sorry I did not save you the trouble of cataloguing Ames's
beads, by telling you that another person has actually done it,
and designs to publish a new edition ranged in a different
method. I don't know the gentleman's name, but he is a friend of
Sir William Musgrave, from whom I had this information some
months ago.

You will oblige me much by the sight of the volume you mention.
Don't mind the epigrams you transcribe on my father. I have been
inured to abuse on him from my birth. It is not a quarter of an
hour ago since, cutting the leaves of a new dab called Anecdotes
of Polite Literature, I found myself abused for having defended
my father. I don't know the author, and suppose I never shall,
for I find Glover's Leonidas is one of the things he admires--and
so I leave them to be forgotten together, Fortunati Ambo!

I sent your letter to Ducarel, who has promised me those poems--I
accepted the promise to get rid of him t'other day, when he would
have talked me to death.

(214) A distinguished antiquary, better known by the assistance
he gave to others than by publications of his own. He was vicar
of Burnham, in the county of Bucks; and died December 16th, 1782,
in his sixty-eighth year.-E.

Letter 113 To The Rev. Henry Zouch.
Arlington Street, Feb. 13, 1762. (PAGE 171)

Sir,
I should long ago have given myself the pleasure of writing to
you, if I had not been constantly in hope of accompanying my
letter with the Anecdotes of Painting, etc.; but the tediousness
of engraving, and the roguery of a fourth printer, have delayed
the publication week after week- for months: truly I do not
believe that there is such a being as an honest printer in the
world.

I Sent the books to Mr. Whiston, who, I think you told me, was
employed by you: he answered, he knew nothing of the matter. Mr.
Dodsley has undertaken now to convey them to you, and I beg your
acceptance of them: it will be a very kind acceptance if you will
tell me of any faults, blunders ,omissions, etc. as you observe
them. In a first sketch of this nature, I cannot hope the work
is any thing like complete. Excuse, Sir, the brevity Of this. I
am much hurried at this instant of publication, and have barely
time to assure you how truly I am your humble servant.

Letter 114To The Earl Of Bute.(215)
Strawberry Hill, Feb. 15, 1762. (PAGE 171)

My lord,
I am sensible how little time your lordship can have to throw
away on reading idle letters of compliment; yet as it would be
too great want of respect to your lordship, not to make some sort
of reply to the note(216) you have done me the honour to send me,
I thought I could couch what I have to say in fewer words by
writing, than in troubling you with a visit, which might come
unseasonably, and a letter you may read at any moment when you
are most idle. I have already, my lord, detained you too long by
sending you a book, which I could not flatter myself you would
turn over in such a season of business: by the manner in 'Which
you have considered it, you have shown me that your very minutes
of amusement you try to turn to the advantage of your country.
It was this pleasing prospect of patronage to the arts that
tempted me to offer you my pebble towards the new structure. I
am flattered that you have taken notice' of the only ambition I
have: I should be more flattered if I could contribute to the
smallest of your lordship's designs for illustrating Britain.
The hint your lordship is so good as to give me for a work like
Montfaucon's Monuments de la Monarchie Francaise, has long been a
subject that I have wished to see executed, nor, in point of
materials, do I think it would be a very difficult one. The
chief impediment was the expense, too great for a private
fortune. The extravagant prices extorted by English artists is a
discouragement to all public undertakings. Drawings from
paintings, tombs, etc. would be very dear. To have them engraved
as they ought to be, would exceed the compass of a much ampler
fortune than mine; which though equal to my largest wish, cannot
measure itself with the rapacity of our performers.

But, my lord, if his Majesty was pleased to command such a work,
on so laudable an idea as your lordship's, nobody would be more
ready than myself to give his assistance. I own I think I could
be of use in it, in collecting or pointing out materials, and I
would readily take any trouble in aiding, supervising, or
directing such a plan. Pardon me, my lord, if I offer no more; I
mean, that I do not undertake the part of composition. I have
already trespassed too much upon the indulgence of the public; I
wish not to disgust them with hearing of me, and reading me. It
is time for me to have done; and when I shall have completed, as
I almost have, the History of the Arts on which I am now engaged,
I did not purpose to tempt again the patience of mankind. But
the case is very different with regard to my trouble. My whole
fortune is from the bounty of the crown, and from the public: it
would ill become me to spare any pains for the King's glory, or
for the honour and satisfaction of my country; and give me leave
to add, my lord, it would be an ungrateful return for the
distinction with which your lordship has condescended to honour
me if I withheld such trifling aid as mine, when it might in the
least tend to adorn your lordship's administration. From me, my
lord, permit me to say, these are not words of course or of
compliment, this is not the language of flattery; your lordship
knows I have no Views, perhaps knows that, insignificant as it
is, my praise is never detached from my esteem: and when you have
raised, as I trust you will, real monuments of glory, the most
contemptible characters in the inscription dedicated by your
country, may not be the testimony of, my lord, etc.(217)

(215) Now first collected.

(216) This letter is in reply to the following note, which
Walpole had, a few days before, received from the Earl of Bute:--
"Lord Bute presents his compliments to Mr. Walpole, and returns
him a thousand thanks for the very agreeable present he has made
him. In looking over it, Lord Bute observes Mr. Walpole has
mixed several curious remarks on the customs, etc. of the times
he treats of; a thing much wanted, and that has never yet been
executed, except in parts, by Peck, etc. Such a general work
would be not only very agreeable, but instructive: the French
have attempted it; the Russians are about it; and Lord Bute has
been informed Mr. Walpole is well furnished with materials for
such a noble work."-E.

(217) The following passage, in a letter from Gray to Walpole, of
the 28th of February, has reference to that work projected by
Lord Bute:--"I rejoice in the good disposition of our court, and
in the propriety of their application to you: the work is a thing
so much to be wished; has so near a connexion with the turn of
your studies and of your curiosity, and might find such ample
materials among your hoards and in your head, that it will be a
sin if you let it drop and come to nothing, or worse than
nothing, for want of your assistance. The historical part should
be in the manner of Herault, a mere abridgment; a series of facts
selected with judgment, that may serve as a clue to lead the mind
along in the midst of those ruins and scattered monuments of art
that time has spared. This would be sufficient, and better than
Montfaucon's more diffuse narrative." Works, vol. iii. p. 293.
Before Walpole had received Gray's letter, he had already adopted
the proposed method; a large memorandum book of his being extant,
with this title page, Collections for a History of the Manners,
Customs, Habits, Fashions, Ceremonies, etc. of England; begun
February 21, 1762, by Horace Walpole." For a specimen of it, see
his Works, vol. v. p. 400.-E.

Letter 115 To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street, Feb. 22, 1762. (PAGE 173)

My scolding does you so much good. that I will for the future
lecture you for the most trifling peccadillo. You have written
me a very entertaining letter, and wiped out several debts; not
that I will forget one of them if you relapse.

As we have never had a rainbow to assure us that the world shall
not be snowed to death, I thought last night was the general
connixation. We had a tempest of wind and snow for two hours
beyond any thing I remember: chairs were blown to pieces, the
streets covered with tassels and glasses and tiles, and coaches
and chariots were filled like reservoirs. Lady Raymond's house
in Berkeley-square is totally unroofed; and Lord Robert Bertie,
who is going to marry her, may descend into it like a Jupiter
Pluvius. It is a week of wonders, and worthy the note of an
almanack-maker. Miss Draycott, within two days of matrimony, has
dismissed Mr. Beauclerc; but this is totally forgotten already in
the amazement of a new elopement. In all your reading, true or
false, have you ever heard of a young Earl, married to the most
beautiful woman in the world, a lord of the bedchamber, a general
officer, and with a great estate, quitting every thing, resigning
wife and world, and embarking for life in a pacquetboat with a
Miss? I fear your connexions will but too readily lead you to
the name of the peer; it is Henry Earl of Pembroke,(218) the
nymph Kitty Hunter. The town and Lady Pembroke were but too much
witnesses to this intrigue, last Wednesday, at a great ball at
Lord Middleton's. On Thursday they decamped. However, that the
writer of their romance, or I, as he is a noble author, might not
want materials, the Earl has left a bushel of letters behind him;
to his mother, to Lord Bute, to Lord Ligonier, (the two last to
resign his employments,) and to Mr. Stopford, whom he acquits of
all privity to his design. In none he justifies himself, unless
this is a justification, that having long tried in vain to make
his wife hate and dislike him, he had no way left but this, and
it is to be hoped will succeed; and then it may not be the worst
event that could have happened to her. You may easily conceive
the hubbub such an exploit must occasion. With ghosts,
elopements, abortive motions, etc., we can amuse ourselves
tolerably well, till the season arrives for taking the field and
conquering the Spanish West Indies.