Books: The Letters of Horace Walpole Volume 3

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(261) Lady Mary Chabot, daughter of the Earl of Stafford.

(262) The Duke and Duchess of Bedford.

(263) Mr. Hans Stanley.

letter 143 To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street, Thursday, Nov. 4, 1762. (page 200)

The events of these last eight days will make you stare. This
day se'nnight the Duke of Devonshire came to town, was flatly
refused an audience, and gave up his key. Yesterday Lord
Rockingham resigned, and your cousin Manchester was named to the
bedchamber. The King then in council called for the book, and
dashed out the Duke of Devonshire's name. If you like spirit, en
Voila! Do you know I am sorry for all this? You will not
suspect me of tenderness for his grace of Devonshire, nor,
recollecting how the whole house of Cavendish treated me on my
breach with my uncle, will any affronts, that happen to them,
call forth my tears. But I think the act too violent and too
serious, and dipped in a deeper dye than I like in politics.
Squabbles, and speeches, and virtue, and prostitution, amuse one
sometimes; less and less indeed every day; but measures, from
which you must advance and cannot retreat, is a game too deep;
one neither knows who may be involved, nor where may be the end.
It is not pleasant. Adieu!

Letter 144 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.
Strawberry Hill, Nov. 13, 1762. (page 201)

Dear sir,
You will easily guess that my delay in answering your obliging
letter, was solely owing to my not knowing whither to direct to
you. I waited till I thought you may be returned home. Thank
you for all the trouble you have given, and do give yourself for
me; it is vastly more than I deserve.

Duke Richard's portrait I willingly wave, at least for the
present, till one can find out who he is. I have more curiosity
about the figures of Henry VII. at Christ's College. I shall be
glad some time or other to visit them, to see how far either of
them agree with his portrait in my picture of his marriage. St.
Ethelreda was mighty welcome.

We have had variety of weather since I saw you, but I fear none
of the patterns made your journey more agreeable.

Letter 145 To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street, Dec. 20, 1762. (page 201)

As I am far from having been better since I wrote to you last, my
postchaise points more and more to Naples. Yet Strawberry, like
a mistress, As oft as I descend the hill of health, Washes my
hold away. Your company would have made me decide much faster,
but I see I have little hopes of that, nor can I blame you; I
don't use so rough a word with regard to myself, but to your
pursuing your amusement, which I am sure the journey Would be. I
never doubted your kindness to me one moment; the affectionate
manner in which you offered, three weeks ago, to accompany me to
Bath, Will never be forgotten. I do not think my complaint very
serious: for how can it be so, when it has never confined me a
whole day? But my mornings are so bad, and I have had so much
more pain this last week, with restless nights, that I am
convinced it must not be trifled with. Yet I think Italy would
be the last thing I would try, if it were 'not to avoid politics:
yet I hear nothing else. The court and opposition both grow more
violent every day from the same cause; the victory of the former.
Both sides torment me with their affairs, though it is so plain I
do not care a straw about either. I wish I -were great enough to
say, as a French officer on the stage at Paris said to the pit,
"Accordez vous, canaille!" Yet to a man without ambition or
interestedness, politicians are canaille. Nothing appears to me
more ridiculous in my life than my having ever loved their
squabbles, and that at an age when I loved better things too! My
poor neutrality, which thing I signed with all the world,
subjects me, like other insignificant monarchs on parallel
occasions, to affronts. On Thursday I was summoned to Princess
Emily's loo. Loo she called it, politics it was. The second
thing she said to me was, "How were you the two long days?"
"Madam, I was only there the first." "And how did you vote!"
"Madam, I went away." "Upon my word, that was carving well."
Not a very pleasant apostrophe to one who certainly never was a
time-server! Well, we sat down. She said, "I hear Wilkinson is
turned out, and that Sir Edward Winnington is to have his place;
who is he?" addressing herself to me, who sat over against her.
"He is the late Mr. Winnington's heir, Madam." "Did you like
that Winnington?" "I can't but say I did, Madam." She shrugged
her shoulders, and continued; "Winnington originally was a great
Tory; what do you think he was when he died?" "Madam, I believe
what all people are in place." Pray, Mr. Montagu, do you
perceive any thing rude or offensive in this? Hear then: she
flew into the most outrageous passion, Coloured like scarlet, and
said, "None of your wit; I don't understand joking on those
subjects; what do you think your father would have said if he had
heard you say so? He Would have murdered you, and you would have
deserved it." I was quite Confounded and amazed; it was
impossible to explain myself across a loo-table, as she is so
deaf: there was no making a reply to a woman and a Princess, and
particularly for me, who have made it a rule, when I must
converse with royalties, to treat them with the greatest respect,
since it is all the court they will ever have from me. I said to
those on each side of me, "What can I do? I cannot explain
myself now." Well, I held my peace, and so did she for a quarter
of an hour. Then she began with me again, examined me on the
whole debate, and at last asked me directly, which I thought the
best speaker, my father or Mr. Pitt. If possible, this was more
distressing than her anger. I replied, it was impossible to
compare two men so different: that I believed my father was more
a man of business than Mr. Pitt. "Well, but Mr. Pitt's
language?" "Madam," said I, "I have always been remarkable for
admiring Mr. Pitt's language." At last, this unpleasant scene
ended; but as we were going away, I went close to her, and said,
"Madam, I must beg leave to explain myself; your royal highness
has seemed to be very angry with me, and I am sure I did not mean
to offend you: all I intended to say was, that I supposed Tories
were Whigs when they got places!" "Oh!" said she, "I am very
much obliged to you; indeed, I was very angry." Why she was
angry, or what she thought I meaned, I do not know to this
moment, unless she supposed that I would have hinted that the
Duke of Newcastle and the opposition were not men of consummate
virtue, and had lost their places out of principle. The very
reverse was at that time in my head; for I meaned that the Tories
would be just as loyal as the Whigs, when they got any thing by
it.

You will laugh at my distresses, and in truth they are little
serious yet they almost put me out of humour. If your cousin
realizes his fair words to you, I shall be very good-humoured
again. I am not so morose as to dislike my friends for being in
place; indeed, if they are in great place, my friendship goes to
sleep like a paroli at pharaoh, and does not wake again till
their deal is over. Good night!

Letter 146 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.
Arlington Street, Dec. 23, 1762. (page 203)

Dear sir,
You are always abundantly kind to me, and pass my power of
thanking you. You do nothing but give yourself trouble and me
presents. My cousin Calthorpe is a great rarity, and I think I
ought, therefore, to return him to you; but that would not be
treating him like a relation, or you like a
friend. My ancestor's epitaph, too, was very agreeable to me.

I have not been at Strawberry Hill these three weeks. My maid is
ill there, and I have not been well myself with the same flying
gout in my stomach and breast, of which you heard me complain a
little in the summer. I am much persuaded to go to a warmer
climate, which often disperses these unsettled complaints. I do
not care for it, nor can determine till I see I grow worse: if I
do (To, I hope it will not be for long; and you shall certainly
hear again before I set out.

Letter 147
To The Hon. H. S. Conway.

Strawberry Hill, Feb. 28, 1763. (page 203)

Your letter of the 19th seems to postpone your arrival rather
than advance it; yet Lady Ailesbury tells me that to her you
talk of being here in ten days. I wish devoutly to see you,
though I am not departing myself; but I am impatient to have
your disagreeable function(264) at an end, and to know that YOU
enjoy Yourself after such fatigues, dangers, and ill-requited
services. For any public satisfaction you will receive in
being at home, you must not expect much. Your mind was not
formed to float on the surface of a mercenary world. My prayer
(and my belief) is, that you may always prefer what you always
have preferred, your integrity to success. You will then
laugh, as I do, at the attacks and malice of faction or
ministers. I taste of both; but, as my health is recovered,
and My Mind does not reproach me, they will perhaps only give
me an opportunity, which I should never have sought, of proving
that I have some virtue--and it will not be proved in the way
they probably expect. I have better evidence than by hanging
out the tattered ensigns of patriotism. But this and a
thousand other things I shall reserve for our meeting. Your
brother has pressed me much to go with him, if he goes, to
Paris.(265) I take it very kindly, but have excused myself,
though I have promised either to accompany him for a short time
at first, or to go to him if he should have any particular
occasion for me: but my resolution against ever appearing in
any public light is unalterable. When I wish to live less and
less in the world here, I cannot think of mounting a new stage
at Paris. At this moment I am alone here, while every body is
balloting in the House of Commons. Sir John Philips proposed a
commission of accounts, which has been converted into a select
committee of twenty-one, eligible by ballot. As the ministry
is not predominant in the affections of mankind, some of them
may find a jury elected that will not be quite so complaisant
as the House is in general when their votes are given openly.
As many may be glad of this opportunity, I shun it; for I
should scorn to do any thing in secret, though I have some
enemies that are not quite so generous.

You say you have seen the North Briton, in which I make a
capital figure. Wilkes, the author, I hear, says, that if he
had thought I should have taken it so well, he would have been
damned before he would have written it-but I am not sore where
I am not sore.

The theatre of Covent-garden has suffered more by riots than
even Drury-lane.(266) A footman of Lord Dacre has been hanged
for murdering the butler. George Selwyn had great hand in
bringing him to confess it. That Selwyn should be a capital
performer in a scene of that kind is not extraordinary: I tell
it you for the strange coolness which the young fellow, who was
but nineteen, expressed: as he was writing his confession, "I
murd--" he stopped, and asked, "how do you spell murdered?"

Mr. Fox is much better than at the beginning of the winter; and
both his health and power seem to promise a longer duration
than people expected. Indeed, I think the latter is so
established, that poor Lord Bute would find it more difficult
to remove him, than he did his predecessors, and may even feel
the effects of the weight he has made over to him; for it is
already obvious that Lord Bute's lev`ee is not the present path
to fortune. Permanence is not the complexion of these times--a
distressful circumstance to the votaries of a court, but
amusing to us spectators. Adieu!

(264) The re-embarkation of the British troops from Flanders
after the peace.

(265) An ambassador.

(266. In January, there was a riot at Drury-lane, in
consequence of the managers refusing admittance at the end of
the third act of a play for half-price; when the glass lustres
were broken and thrown upon the stage, the benches torn up, and
the performance put a stop to. The same scene was threatened
on the following evening, but was prevented by Garrick's
consenting to give admittance at half-price after the third
act, except during the first winter of a new pantomime. At
Covent-garden, the redress demanded having been acceded to, no
disturbance took place on that occasion; but a more serious
riot happened on the 24th of February, in consequence of a
demand for full prices at the opera of Artaxerxes. The
mischief done was estimated at not less than two thousand
pounds.-E.

Letter 148 To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street, March 29, 1763. (page 205)

Though you are a runaway, a fugitive, a thing without friendship
or feeling, though you grow tired of your acquaintance in half
the time you intended, I will not quite give you up: I will write
to you once a quarter, just to keep up a connexion that grace may
catch at, if it ever proposes to visit you. This is my plan, for
I have little or nothing to tell you. The ministers only cut one
another's throats instead of ours. They growl over their prey
like two curs over a bone, which neither can determine to quit;
and the whelps in opposition are not strong enough to beat either
way, though like the species, they will probably hunt the one
that shall be worsted. The saddest dog of all, Wilkes, shows
most spirit. The last North Briton is a masterpiece of mischief.
He has written a dedication too to an old play, the Fall of
Mortimer, that is wormwood; and he had the impudence t'other day
to ask Dyson if he was going to the treasury; "Because," said he,
"a friend of mine has dedicated a play to Lord Bute, and 'It is
usual to give dedicators something; I wish you would put his
lordship in mind of it." Lord and Lady Pembroke are reconciled,
and live again together.(267) Mr. Hunter would have taken his
daughter too, but upon condition she should give back her
settlement to Lord Pembroke and her child: she replied nobly,
that she did not trouble herself about fortune, and would
willingly depend on her father; but for her child, she had
nothing left to do but to take care of that, and would not part
with it; so she keeps both, and I suppose will soon have her
lover again too, for T'other sister(268) has been sitting to
Reynolds, who by her husband's direction has made a speaking
picture. Lord Bolingbroke said to him, "You must give the eyes
something of Nelly O'Brien, or it will not do." As he has given
Nelly something of his wife's, it was but fair to give her
something of Nelly's, and my lady will not throw away the
present!

I am going to Strawberry for a few days, pour faire mes piques.
The gallery advances rapidly. The ceiling is Harry the Seventh's
chapel in proprid persona; the canopies are all placed; I think
three months will quite complete it. - I have bought at Lord
Granville's sale the original picture of Charles Brandon and his
queen; and have to-day received from France a copy of Madame
Maintenon, which with my La Vali`ere, and copies of Madame
Grammont, and of the charming portrait of the Mazarine at the
Duke of St. Alban's, is to accompany Bianca Capello and Ninon
L'Enclos in the round tower. I hope now there will never be
another auction, for I have not an inch of space, or a farthing
left. As I have some remains of paper, I will fill it up with a
song that I made t'other day in the postchaise, after a
particular conversation that I had with Miss Pelham the night
before at the Duke of Richmond's.

THE ADVICE.

The business of women, dear Chloe, is pleasure,
And by love ev'ry fair one her minutes should measure.
"Oh! for love we're all ready," you cry.--very true;
Nor would I rob the gentle fond god of his due.
Unless in the sentiments Cupid has part,
And dips in the amorous transport his dart
'Tis tumult, disorder, 'tis loathing and hate;
Caprice gives it birth, and contempt is its fate.

"True passion insensibly leads to the joy,
And grateful esteem bids its pleasures ne'er cloy.
Yet here you should stop-but your whimsical sex
Such romantic ideas to passion annex,
That poor men, by your visions and jealousy worried,
To Dyinphs less ecstatic, but kinder, are hurried.
In your heart, I consent, let your wishes be bred;
Only take care your heart don't get into your head.

Adieu, till Midsummer-day!

(267) See ant`e, p. 175, Letter 117.-E.

(268) Lady Bolingbroke and the Countess of Pembroke were
sisters.-E.

Letter 149 To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street, April 6, 1763. (page 206)

You will pity my distress when I tell you that Lord Waldegrave
has got the smallpox, and a bad sort. This day se'nnight, in the
evening, I met him at Arthur's: he complained to me of the
headache, and a sickness in the stomach. I said, "My dear lord,
why don't you go home, and take James's powder you will be well
in the morning." He thanked me, said he was glad I had put him
in mind of it, and he would take my advice. I sent in the
morning; my niece said he had taken the powder, and that James
thought he had no fever, but that she found him very low. As he
had no fever, I had no apprehension. At eight o'clock on Friday
night, I was told abruptly at Arthur's, that Lord Waldegrave had
the small-pox. I was excessively shocked, not knowing if the
powder was good or bad for it. I went instantly to the house; at
the door I was met by a servant of Lady Ailesbury, sent to tell
me that Mr. Conway was arrived. These two opposite strokes of
terror and joy overcame me so much, that when I got to Mr.
Conway's I could not speak to him, but burst into a flood of
tears. The next morning, Lord Waldegrave hearing I was there,
desired to speak to me alone. I should tell you, that the moment
he knew it was the small-pox, he signed his will. This has been
the unvaried tenor of his behaviour, doing just what is wise and
necessary, and nothing more. He told me, he knew how great the
chance was against his living through that distemper at his age.
That, to be sure, he should like to have lived a few years
longer; but if he did not, he should submit patiently. That all
he desired was, that if he should fail, we would do our utmost to
comfort his wife, who, he feared was breeding, and who, he added,
was the best woman in the world. I told him he could not doubt
our attention to her, but that at present all our attention was
fixed on him. That the great difference between having the
small-pox young, or more advanced in years, consisted in the fear
of the latter; but that as I had so often heard him say, and now
saw, that he had none of those fears, the danger of age was
considerably lessened. Dr. Wilmot says, that if any thing saves
him, it will be his tranquillity. To my comfort I am told, that
James's powder has probably been a material ingredient towards
his recovery. In the mean time, the universal anxiety about him
is incredible. Dr. Barnard, the master of Eton, who is in town
for the holidays, says, that, from his situation, he is naturally
invited to houses of all ranks and parties, and that the concern
is general in all. I cannot say so much of my lord, and not do a
little justice to my niece too. Her tenderness, fondness,
attention, and courage are surprising. She has no fears to
become her, nor heroism for parade. I could not help saying to
her, "There never was a nurse of your age had such attention."
She replied, "There never was a nurse of my age had such an
object." It is this astonishes one, to see so much beauty
sincerely devoted to a man so unlovely in his person; but if
Adonis was sick, she could not stir seldomer out of his
bedchamber. The physicians seem to have little hopes, but, as
their arguments are not near so strong as their alarms, I own I
do not give it up, and yet I look on it in a very dangerous
light.

I know nothing of news and of the world, for I go to
Albemarle-Street early in the morning, and don't come home till
late at night. Young Mr. Pitt has been dying of a fever in
Bedfordshire. The Bishop of Carlisle,(269) whom I have appointed
visiter of Strawberry, is gone down to him. You will be much
disappointed if you expect to find the gallery near finished.
They threaten me with three months before the gilding can be
begun. twenty points are at a stand by my present confinement,
and I have a melancholy prospect of being forced to carry my
niece thither the next time I go. The Duc de Nivernois, in
return for a set of the Strawberry editions, has sent me four
seasons, which, I conclude, he thought good, but they shall pass
their whole round in London, for they have not even the merit of
being badly old enough for Strawberry. Mr. Bentley's epistle to
Lord Melcomb has been published in a magazine. It has less wit
by far than I expected from him, and to the full as bad English.
The thoughts are old Strawberry phrases; so are not the
panegyrics. Here are six lines written extempore by Lady Temple,
on Lady Mary Coke, easy and genteel, and almost true:

She sometimes laughs, but never loud;
She's handsome too, but somewhat proud:
At court she bears away the belle;
She dresses fine, and figures well:
With decency she's gay and airy;
Who can this be but Lady Mary?

There has been tough doings in Parliament about the tax on cider;
and in the Western counties the discontent is so great, that if
Mr. Wilkes will turn patriot-hero, or patriot-incendiary in
earnest, and put himself at their head, he may obtain a rope of
martyrdom before the summer is over. Adieu! I tell you my
sorrows, because, if I escape them, I am sure nobody will rejoice
more.

(269) Dr. Charles Lyttelton, consecrated Bishop of Carlisle in
1762, in the room of Dr. Osbaldiston, translated to the see of
London.-E.

Letter 150 To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street, Friday night, late. [April 8, 1763.. (page 208)

Amidst all my own grief, and all the distress which I have this
moment left, I cannot forget you, who have so long been my steady
and invariable friend. I cannot leave it to newspapers and
correspondents to tell you my loss. Lord Waldegrave died to-day.
Last night he had some glimmerings of hope. The most desponding
of the faculty flattered us a little. He himself joked with the
physicians, and expressed himself in this engaging manner: asking
what day of the week it was; they told him Thursday: "Sure," said
he, "it is Friday." "No, my lord, indeed it is Thursday."
"Well," said he, "see what a rogue this distemper makes one; I
want to steal nothing but a day." By the help of opiates, with
which, for two or three days, they had numbed his sufferings, he
rested well. This morning he had no worse symptoms. I told Lady
Waldegrave, that as no material alteration was expected before
Sunday, I would go to dine at Strawberry, and return in time to
meet the physicians in the evening; in truth, I was worn out with
anxiety and attendance, and wanted an hour or two of fresh air.
I left her at twelve, and had ordered dinner at three that I
might be back early. I had not risen from table when I received
an express from Lady Betty Waldegrave, to tell me that a sudden
change had happened, that they had given him James's powder, but
that they feared it was too late, and that he probably would be
dead before I could come to my niece, for whose sake she begged I
would return immediately. It was indeed too late! too late for
every thing--late as it was given, the powder vomited him even in
the agonies--had I had power to direct, he should never have
quitted James; but these are vain regrets! vain to recollect how
particularly kind he, who was kind to every body, was to me! I
found Lady Waldegrave at my brother's; she weeps without ceasing,
and talks of his virtues and goodness to her in a manner that
distracts one. My brother bears this mortification with more
courage than I could have expected from his warm passions: but
nothing struck me more than to see my rough savage Swiss, Louis,
in tears, as he opened my chaise. I have a bitter scene to come:
to-morrow morning I carry poor Lady Waldegrave to Strawberry.
Her fall is great, from that adoration and attention that he paid
her, from that splendour of fortune, so much of which dies with
him, and from that consideration, which rebounded to her from the
great deference which the world had for his character. Visions
perhaps. Yet who could expect that they would have passed away
even before that fleeting thing, her beauty!

If I had time or command enough of my thoughts, I could give you
as long a detail of as unexpected a revolution in the political
world. To-day has been as fatal to a whole nation, I mean to the
Scotch, as to our family. Lord Bute resigned this morning. His
intention was not even suspected till Wednesday, nor at all known
a very few days before. In short, there is nothing, more or
less, than a panic; a fortnight's opposition has demolished that
scandalous but vast majority, which a fortnight had purchased;
and in five months a plan of absolute power has been demolished
by a panic. He pleads to the world bad health; to his friends,
more truly, that the nation was set at him. He pretends to
intend retiring absolutely, and giving no umbrage. In the mean
time he is packing up a sort of ministerial legacy, which cannot
hold even till next session, and I should think would scarce take
place at all. George Grenville is to be at the head of the
treasury and chancellor of the exchequer; Charles Townshend to
succeed him; and Lord Shelburne, Charles. Sir Francis Dashwood
to have his barony of Despencer and the great wardrobe, in the
room of Lord Gower, who takes the privy seal, if the Duke of
Bedford takes the presidentship; but there are many ifs in this
arrangement; the principal if is, if they dare stand a tempest
which has so terrified the pilot. You ask what becomes of Mr.
Fox? Not at all pleased with this sudden determination, which has
blown up so many of his projects, and left him time to heat no
more furnaces, he goes to France by the way of the House of
Lords,(270) but keeps his place and his tools till something else
happens. The confusion I suppose will be enormous, and the next
act of the drama a quarrel among the opposition, who would be
all-powerful if they could do what they cannot, hold together and
not quarrel for the plunder. As I shall be
at a distance for some days, I shall be able to send you no more
particulars of this interlude, but you will like a pun my brother
made when he was told of this explosion: "Then," said he, "they
must turn the Jacks out of the drawing-room again, and again take
them into the kitchen." Adieu! what a world to set one's heart
on!