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Books: The Letters of Horace Walpole Volume 3

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

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(303) Now first collected.

(304) See ant`e, p. 215, letter 154.-E.



Letter 164 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Strawberry Hill, July 1, 1763. (page 228)


Dear sir,
As you have given me leave, I propose to pass a day with you,
on my way to Mr. Montagu's. If you have no engagement, I will
be with you on the 16th of this month, and if it is not
inconvenient, and you will tell me truly whether it is or not,
I shall bring my friend Mr. Chute with me, who is destined to
the same place. I will beg you too to let me know how far it
is to Bleckley, and what road I must take: that is, how far
from London, or how far from Twickenham, and the road from
each, as I am uncertain yet from which I shall set out. If any
part of this proposal does not suit You, I trust you will own
it, and I will take some other opportunity of calling on you,
being most truly, dear Sir, etc.




Letter 165 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.
Strawberry Hill, July 12, 1763. (page 228)

Dear sir,
Upon consulting maps and the knowing, I find it will be my best
way to call on Mr. Montagu first, before I come to you, or I must
go the same road twice. This will make it a few days later than
I intended before I wait on you, and will leave you time to
complete your hay-harvest, as I gladly embrace your offer of
bearing me company on the tour I meditate to Burleigh, Drayton,
Peterborough, Ely, and twenty other places, of all which you
shall take as much or as little as you please. It will, I think,
be Wednesday or Thursday se'nnight, before I wait on you, that is
the 20th or 21st, and I fear I shall come alone; for Mr. Chute is
confined with the gout: but you shall hear again before I set
out. Remember I am to see Sir Kenelm Digby's.

I thank you much for your informations. The Countess of
Cumberland is an acquisition, and quite new to me. With the
Countess of Kent I am acquainted since my last edition.

Addison certainly changed sides in the epitaph to indicabit to
avoid the jingle with dies: though it is possible that the
thought may have been borrowed elsewhere. Adieu, Sir!

To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Dear sir,
Wednesday is the day I propose waiting on you; what time of it
the Lord and the roads know; so don't wait for me any part of it.
If I should be violently pressed to stay a day longer at Mr.
Montagu's I hope it will be no disappointment to you: but I love
to be uncertain, rather than make myself expected and fail.




Letter 166 To George Montagu, Esq.
Stamford, Saturday night, July 23, 1763. (page 229)

"Thus far arms have with success been crowned," bating a few
mishaps, which will attend long marches like ours. We have
conquered as many towns as Louis Quatorze in the campaign of
seventy-two; that is, seen them, for he did little more, and into
the bargain he had much better roads, and a dryer summer. It has
rained perpetually till to-day, and made us experience the rich
soil of Northamptonshire, which is a clay-pudding stuck full of
villages. After we parted with you on Thursday, we saw Castle
Ashby(305) and Easton MaudUit.(306) The first is most
magnificently triste, and has all the formality of the Comptons.
I should admire 'It if I could see out of it, or any thing in it,
but there is scarce any furniture, and the bad little frames of
glass exclude all objects. Easton is miserable enough; there are
many modern portraits, and one I was glad to see of the Duchess
of Shrewsbury. We lay at Wellingborough--pray never lie there--
the beastliest inn upon earth is there! We were carried into a
vast bedchamber, which I suppose is the club-room, for it stunk
of tobacco like a justice of peace. I desired some boiling water
for tea; they brought me a sugar dish of hot water in a pewter
plate. Yesterday morning we went to Boughton,(307) where we were
scarce landed, before the Cardigans, in a coach and six and three
chaises, arrived with a cold dinner in their pockets, on their
way to Deane; for as it is in dispute, they never reside at
Boughton. This was most unlucky, that we should pitch on the
only hour in the year in which they are there. I was so
disconcerted, and so afraid, of falling foul of the Countess and
her caprices, that I hurried from chamber to chamber, and scarce
knew what I saw, but that the house is in the grand old French
style, that gods and goddesses lived over my head in every room,
and that there was nothing but pedigrees all around me, and under
my feet, for there is literally a coat of arms at the end of
every step of the stairs: did the Duke mean to pun, and intend
this for the descent of the Montagus? Well! we hurried away and
got to Drayton an hour before dinner. Oh! the dear old place!
you would be transported with it. In the first place, it stands
in as ugly a hole as Boughton: well! that is not its beauty. The
front is a brave strong castle wall, embattled and loopholed for
defence. Passing the great gate, you come to a sumptuous but
narrow modern court, behind which rises the old mansion, all
towers and turrets. The house is excellent; has a vast hall,
ditto dining-room, king's chamber, trunk gallery at the top of
the house, handsome chapel, and seven or eight distinct
apartments, besides closets and conveniences without end. Then
it is covered with portraits, crammed with old china, furnished
richly, and not a rag in it under forty, fifty, or a thousand
years old; but not a bed or chair that has lost a tooth, or got a
gray hair, so well are they preserved. I rummaged it from head
to foot, examined every spangled bed, and enamelled pair of
bellows, for such there are; in short, I do not believe the old
mansion was ever better pleased with an inhabitant, since the
days of Walter de Drayton, except when it has received its divine
old mistress.(308) If one could honour her more than one did
before, it would be to see with what religion she keeps up the
old dwelling and customs, as well as old servants, who you may
imagine do not love her less than other people do. The garden is
just as Sir John Germain brought it from Holland; pyramidal yews,
treillages, and square cradle walks with windows clipped in them.
Nobody was there but Mr. Beauclerc(309) and Lady Catharine,(310)
and two parsons: the two first suffered us to ransack and do as
we would, and the two last assisted us, informed us, and carried
us to every tomb in the neighbourhood. I have got every
circumstance by heart, and was pleased beyond my expectation,
both with the place and the comfortable way of seeing it. We
stayed here till after dinner to-day, and saw Fotheringhay in our
way hither. The castle is totally ruined.(311) The mount, on
which the keep stood, two door-cases, and a piece of the moat,
are all the remains. Near it is a front and two projections of
an ancient house, which, by the arms about it, I suppose was part
of the palace of Richard and Cicely, Duke and Duchess of York.
There are two pretty tombs for them and their uncle Duke of York
in the church, erected by order of Queen Elizabeth. The church
has been very fine, but is now intolerably shabby; yet many large
saints remain in the windows, two entire, and all the heads well
painted. You may imagine we were civil enough to the Queen of
Scots, to feel a feel of pity for her, while we stood on the very
spot where she was put to death; my companion,(312) I believe,
who is a better royalist than I am, felt a little more. There, I
have obeyed you. To-morrow we see Burleigh and Peterborough, and
lie @t Ely; on Monday I hope to be in town, and on Tuesday I hope
much more to be in the gallery at Strawberry Hill, and to find
the gilders laying on the last leaf of gold. Good night!

(305) A seat of the Earl of Northampton.

(306) A seat of the Earl of Sussex.

(307) The seat of Lord Montagu.

(308) Lady Betty Germain.-E.

(309) Aubrey Beauclerk, Esq. member for Thetford. He succeeded
to the dukedom of St. Albans, as fifth Duke, in 1787, and died in
1802.-E.

(310) Lady Catharine Ponsonby, daughter of the Earl of
Desborough.

(311) James the First is said to have ordered it to be destroyed,
in consequence of its having been the scene of the trial and
execution of his mother, Mary Queen of Scots, beheaded there in
February 1587.-E.

(312) Mr. Cole.



Letter 167 To George Montagu, Esq.
Hockerill, Monday night, July 25, Vol. 2d. (page 231)

You must know we were drowned on Saturday night. It rained, as
it did at Greatworth on Wednesday, all night and all next
morning, so we could not look even at the outside of Burleigh;
but we saw the inside pleasantly; for Lord Exeter, whom I had
prepared for our intentions, came to us, and made every door and
every lock fly open, even of his magazines, yet unranged. He is
going through the house by decrees, furnishing a room every year,
and has already made several most sumptuous. One is a little
tired of Carlo Maratti and Lucca Jordano, yet still these are
treasures. The china and japan are of the finest; miniatures in
plenty, and a shrine full of crystal vases, filigree, enamel,
jewels, and the trinkets of taste, that have belonged to many a
noble dame. In return for his civilities, I made my Lord Exeter
a present of a glorious cabinet, whose drawers and sides are all
painted by Rubens. This present you must know is his own, but he
knew nothing of the hand or the value. Just so I have given Lady
Betty Germain a very fine portrait, that I discovered ,at Drayton
in the Woodhouse.

I was not much pleased with Peterborough; the front is adorable,
but the inside has no more beauty than consists in vastness. By
the way, I have a pen and ink that will not form a letter. We
were now sent to Huntingdon in our way to Ely, as we found it
impracticable, from the rains and floods, to cross the country
thither. We landed in the heart of the assizes, and almost in
the middle of the races, both which, to the astonishment of the
virtuosi, we eagerly quitted this morning. We were hence sent
south to Cambridge, still on our way north to Ely: but when we
got to Cambridge we were forced to abandon all thoughts of Ely,
there being nothing but lamentable stories of inundations and
escapes. However, I made myself amends at the university, which
I have not seen these four-and-twenty years, and which revived
many youthful scenes, which, merely from their being youthful,
are forty times pleasanter than any other ideas. You know I
always long to live at Oxford: I felt that I could like to live
even at Cambridge again. The colleges are much cleaned and
improved since my days, and the trees and groves more venerable;
but the town is tumbling about their ears. We surprised Gray
with our appearance, dined and drank tea with him, and are come
hither within sight of land. I always find it worth my while to
make journeys, for the joy I have in getting home again. A
second adieu!




Letter 168 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.
Strawberry Hill, Aug. 8, 1763. (page 232)

Dear sir,
You judge rightly, I am very indifferent about Dr. Shorton, since
he is not Dr. Shorter. It has done nothing but rain since my
return; whoever wants hay, must fish for it; it is all drowned,
or swimming about the country. I am glad our tour gave you so
much pleasure; you was so very obliging, as you have always been
to me, that I should have been grieved not to have had it give
you satisfaction. I hope your servant is quite recovered.

The painters and gilders quit my gallery this week, but I have
not got a chair or a table for it yet; however, I hope it will
have all its clothes on by the time you have promised me a visit.



Letter 169 To Dr. Ducarel.
Strawberry Hill, Aug. 8, 1763. (page 232)

Sir,
I have been rambling about the country, or should not so long
have deferred to answer the favour of your letter. I thank you
for the notices in it, and have profited of them. I am much
obliged to you too for the drawings you intended me; but I have
since had a letter from Mr. Churchill, and he does not mention
them.



Letter 170 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Strawberry Hill, Aug. 9, 1763. (page 232)

My gallery claims your promise; the painters and gilders finish
to-morrow, and next day it washes its hands. You talked of the
15th; shall I expect you then, and the Countess,(313) and the
Contessina,(314) and the Baroness?(315)

Lord Digby is to be married immediately to the pretty Miss
Fielding; and Mr. Boothby, they say, to Lady Mary Douglas. What
more news I know I cannot send you; for I have had it from Lady
Denbigh and Lady Blandford, who have so confounded names,
genders, and circumstances, that I am not sure whether Prince
Ferdinand is not going to be married to the hereditary Prince.
Adieu!

P. S. If you want to know more of me, you may read a whole column
of abuse upon me in the Public Ledger of Thursday last; where
they inform me that the Scotch cannot be so sensible @as the
English, because they have not such good writers. Alack! I am
afraid the most sensible men in any country do not write.

I had writ this last night. This morning I receive your paper of
evasions, perfide que vous `etes! You may let it alone, you will
never see any thing like my gallery--and then to ask me to leave
it the instant it is finished! I never heard such a request in my
days!--Why, all the earth is begging to come to see it: as Edging
says, I have had offers enough from blue and green ribands to
make me a falbala-apron. Then I have just refused to let Mrs.
Keppel and her Bishop be in the house with me, because I expected
all you--it is mighty well, mighty fine!-No, sir, no, I shall not
come; nor am I in a humour to do any thing else you desire:
indeed, without your provoking me, I should not have come into
the proposal of paying Giardini. We have been duped and cheated
every winter for these twenty years by the undertakers of
operas, and I never will pay a farthing more till the last
moment, nor can be terrified at their puffs; I am astonished you
are. So far from frightening me. the kindest thing they could do
would be not to let one have a box to hear their old threadbare
voices and frippery thefts; and as for Giardini himself, I would
not go cross the room to hear him play to eternity. I should
think he could frighten nobody but Lady Bingley by a refusal.

(313) Of Ailesbury.

(314) Miss Anne Seymour Conway.

(315) Elizabeth Rich, second wife of George Lord Lyttelton.




Letter 171 To The Earl Of Strafford.
Strawberry Hill, Aug 10, 1763. Page 233)

My dear lord,
I have waited in hopes that the world would do something worth
telling you: it will not, and I cannot stay any longer without
asking you how you do, and hoping you have not quite forgot me.
It has rained such deluges, that I had some thoughts of turning
my gallery into an ark, and began to pack up a pair of bantams, a
pair of cats, in short, a pair of every living creature about my
house: but it is grown fine at last, and the workmen quit my
gallery to-day without hoisting a sail in it. I know nothing
upon earth but what the ancient ladies in my neighbourhood knew
threescore years ago; I write merely to pay you my pepper-corn of
affection, and to inquire after my lady, who I hope is perfectly
well. A longer letter would not have half the merit: a line in
return will however repay all the merit I can possibly have to
one to whom I am so much obliged.



Letter 172 To George Montagu, Esq.
Strawberry Hill, Aug. 15, 1763. (page 233)

The most important piece of news I have to tell you is, that the
gallery is finished; that is, the workmen have quitted it. For
chairs and tables, not one is arrived yet. Well, how you will
tramp up and down in it! Methinks I wish you would. We are in
the perfection of beauty; verdure itself was never green till
this summer, thanks to the deluges of rain. Our complexion used
to be mahogany in August. Nightingales and roses indeed are out
of blow, but the season is celestial. I don't know whether we
have not even had an earthquake to-day. Lady Buckingham, Lady
Waldegrave, the Bishop of' Exeter, and Mrs. Keppel, and the
little Hotham dined here; between six and seven we were sitting
in the great parlour; I sat in the window looking at the river:
on a sudden I saw it violently agitated, and, as it were, lifted
up and down by a thousand hands. I called out, they all ran to
the window; it continued; we hurried into the garden, and all saw
the Thames in the same violent commotion for I suppose a hundred
yards. We fancied at first there must be some barge rope; not
one was in sight. It lasted in this manner, and at the farther
end, towards Teddington, even to dashing. It did not cease
before I got to the middle of the terrace, between the fence and
the hill. Yet this is nothing: to what is to come. The Bishop
and I walked down to my meadow by the river. At this end were
two fishermen in a boat, but their backs had been turned to the
agitation, and they had seen nothing. At the farther end of the
field was a gentleman fishing, and a woman by him; I had
perceived him on the same spot at the time of the motion of the
waters, which was rather beyond where it was terminated. I now
thought myself sure of a witness, and concluded he could not have
recovered his surprise. I ran up to him. "Sir," said I, "did
you see that strange agitation of the waters?" "When, Sir? when,
Sir?" "Now, this very instant, not two minutes ago." He
replied, with the phlegm of a philosopher, or of a man that can
love fishing, "Stay, Sir, let me recollect if I remember nothing
of it." "Pray, Sir," said I, scarce able to help laughing, "you
must remember whether you remember it or not, for it is scarce
over." "I am trying to recollect," said he, with the same
coolness. "Why, Sir," said I, "six of us saw it from my parlour
window yonder." "Perhaps," answered he, "you might perceive it
better where you were, but I suppose it was an earthquake." His
nymph had seen nothing neither, and so we returned as wise as
most who inquire into natural phenomena. We expect to hear
to-morrow that there has been an earthquake somewhere; unless
this appearance portended a state-quake. You see, my impetuosity
does not abate much; no, nor my youthfullity, which bears me out
even at a sabat. I dined last week at Lady Blandford's, with
her, the old Denbigh, the old Litchfield, and Methuselah knows
who. I had stuck some sweet peas in my hair, was playing at
quadrille, and singing to my sorci`eres. The Duchess of Argyle
and Mrs. Young came in; you may guess how they stared; at last
the Duchess asked what was the meaning of those flowers? "Lord,
Madam," said I, "don't you know it is the fashion? The Duke of
Bedford is come over with his hair full." Poor Mrs. Young took
this in sober sadness, and has reported that the Duke of Bedford
wears flowers. You will not know me less by a precipitation of
this morning. Pitt and I were busy adjusting the gallery. Mr.
Elliott came in and discomposed us; I was horridly tired of him.
As he was going, he said, "Well, this house is so charming, I
don't wonder at your being able to live so much alone." I, who
shudder at the thought of any body's living With me, replied very
innocently, but a little too quick, "No, only pity me when I
don't live alone." Pitt was shocked, and said, "To be sure he
will never forgive you as long as he lives." Mrs. Leneve used
often to advise me never to begin being civil to people I did not
care for: For," says she, "you grow weary of them, and can't help
showing it, and so make it ten times worse than if you had never
attempted to please them."

I suppose you have read in the papers the massacre of my
innocents. Every one of my Turkish sheep, that I have been
nursing up these fourteen years, torn to pieces in one night by
three strange dogs! They killed sixteen outright, and mangled
the two others in such a manner that I was forced to have them
knocked on the head. However, I bore this better than an
interruption.

I have scrawled and blotted this letter so I don't know whether
you can read it; but it is no matter, for I perceive it is all
about myself: but what has one else in the dead of summer? In
return, tell me as much as you please about yourself, which you
know is always a most welcome subject to me. One may preserve
one's spirits with one's juniors, but I defy any body to care but
about their contemporaries. One wants to linger about one's
predecessors, but who has the least curiosity about their
successors? This is abominable ingratitude: one takes wondrous
pains to consign one's own memory to them at the same time that
one feels the most perfect indifference to whatever relates to
them themselves. Well, they will behave just so in their turns.
Adieu!



Letter 173 To George Montagu, Esq.
Strawberry Hill, Sept. 3, 1763. (page 235)

I have but a minute's time for answering your letter; my house is
full of people, and has been so from the instant I breakfasted,
and more are coming; in short, I keep an inn; the sign, the
Gothic Castle. Since my gallery was finished I have not been in
it a quarter of an hour together; my whole time is passed in
giving tickets for seeing it, and hiding myself while it is seen.
Take my advice, never build a charming house for yourself between
London and Hampton-court: every body will live in it but you. I
fear you must give up all thoughts of the Vine for this year, at
least for some time. The poor master is on the rack; I left him
the day before yesterday in bed, where he had been ever since
Monday, with the gout in both knees and one foot, and suffering
martyrdom every night. I go to see him again on Monday. He has
not had so bad a fit these four years, and he has probably the
other foot still to come. You must come to me at least in the
mean time, before he is well enough to receive you. After next
Tuesday I am unengaged, except on Saturday, Sunday, and Monday
following; that is, the tenth, eleventh, and twelfth, when the
family from Park-place are to be with me. Settle your motions,
and let me know them as soon as you can, and give me as much time
as you can spare. I flatter myself the General(316) and Lady
Grandison will keep the kind promise they made me, and that I
shall see your brother John and Mr. Miller too.

My niece is not breeding. You shall have the auction books as
soon as I can get them, though I question if there is any thing
in your way; however, I shall see you long before the sale, and
we will talk on it.

There has been a revolution and a re-revolution, but I must defer
the history till I see you, for it is much too big for a letter
written in such a hurry as this. Adieu!

(316) General Montagu, who, in the preceding February, had
married the Countess-dowager of Grandison.-E.



Letter 174 To George Montagu, Esq.
Strawberry Hill, Sept. 7, 1763. (page 236)

As I am sure the house of Conway will not stay with me beyond
Monday next, I shall rejoice to see the house of Montagu this day
se'nnight (Wednesday), and shall think myself highly honoured by
a visit from Lady Beaulieu;(317) I know nobody that has better
taste, and it would flatter me exceedingly if she should happen
to like Strawberry. I knew you would be pleased with Mr. Thomas
Pitt; he is very amiable and very sensible, and one of the very
few that I reckon quite worthy of being at home at Strawberry.

I have again been in town to see Mr. Chute; he thinks the worst
over, yet he gets no sleep, and is still confined to his bed 'but
his spirits keep up surprisingly. As to your gout, so far from
pitying you, 'tis the best thing that can happen to you. All
that claret and port are very kind to you, when they prefer the
shape of lameness to that of apoplexies, or dropsies, or fevers,
or pleurisies.

Let me have a line certain what day I may expect your party, that
I may pray to the sun to illuminate the cabinet. Adieu!

(317) Isabella, eldest daughter and co-heir of John Duke of
Montagu, and relict of William Duke of Manchester; married, in
1763, to Edward Montagu, Lord Beaulieu.-E.



Letter 175 To George Montagu, Esq.
Strawberry Hill, Oct. 3, 1763. (page 236)


I was just getting into my chaise to go to Park-place, when I
received your commission for Mrs. Crosby's pictures; but I did
not neglect it, though I might as well, for the old gentlewoman
was a little whimsical, and though I sent my own gardener and
farmer with my cart to fetch them on Friday, she would not
deliver them, she said, till Monday; so this morning they were
forced to go again. They are now all safely lodged in my
cloister; when I say safely, you understand, that two of them
have large holes in them, as witness this bill of lading signed
by your aunt. There are eleven in all, besides Lord Halifax,
seven half-lengths and four heads; the former are all desirable,
and one of the latter; the three others woful. Mr. Wicks is now
in the act of packing them, for we have changed our minds about
sending them to London by water, as your wagoner told Louis last
time I was at Greatworth, that if they were left at the Old Hat,
near Acton, he would take them up and convey them to Greatworth;
so my cart carries them thither, and they will set out towards
you next Saturday.

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