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The Letters of Horace Walpole Volume 3 by Horace Walpole

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I am glad to find, Sir, that we agree so much on the Dialogues of
the Dead; indeed, there are very few that differ from us. It is
well for the author, that none of his critics have undertaken to
ruin his book by improving it, as you have done in the lively
little specimen you sent me., Dr. Brown has writ a dull dialogue,
called Pericles and Aristides, which will have a different effect
from what yours, would have. One of the most objectionable
passages in lord Lyttelton's book is, in my opinion, his
apologizing for 'the moderate government of Augustus. A man who
had exhausted tyranny in the most lawless and Unjustifiable
excesses is to be excused, because, out of weariness or policy,
he grows less sanguinary at last!

There is a little book coming Out, that will amuse you. It is a
new edition of Isaac Walton's Complete Angler,. full of anecdotes
and historic notes. It is published by Mr. Hawkins,(76) a very
worthy gentleman in my neighbourhood, but who, I could wish, did
not think angling so very innocent an amusement. We cannot live
without destroying animals, but shall-we torture them for our
sport--sport in their destruction?(77) I met a rough officer at
his house t'other day, who said he knew such a person was turning
Methodist; for, in the middle of conversation, he rose, and
opened the window to let out a moth. I told him I did not know
that the Methodists had any principle so good, and that I, who am
certainly not on the point of becoming one, always did so too.
One of the bravest and best men I ever knew, Sir Charles Wager, I
have often heard declare he never killed a fly willingly. It is
a comfortable reflection to me, that all the victories of last
year have been gained since the suppression of the bear garden
and prize-fighting; as it is plain, and nothing else would have
made it so, that our valour did not, singly and solely depend
upon, those two universities. Adieu.!

(75) Now first collected.

(76) Afterwards Sir John Hawkins, Knight, the executor and
biographer of Dr. Johnson.-E.

(77) Lord Byron, like Walpole, had a mortal dislike to angling,
and describes it as " the cruelest, the coldest, and the
stupidest of pretended sports." Of good Isaac Walton he says,

"The quaint, old, cruel coxcomb,. in his gullet
Should have a hook, and a small trout to pull it."-E.

Letter 30 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.(78)
Strawberry Hill, June 21, 1760. (page 70)

There is nothing in the world so tiresome as a person that always
says they will come to one and never does; that is a mixture of
promises and excuses; that loves one better than anybody, and yet
will not stir a step to see one; that likes nothing but their own
ways and own books, and that thinks the Thames is not as charming
in one place as another, and that fancies Strawberry Hill is the
only thing upon earth worth living for-all this you would say, if
even I could make you peevish: but since you cannot be provoked,
you see I am for you, and give myself my due. It puts me in mind
of General Sutton, who was one day sitting by my father at his
dressing. Sir Robert said to Jones, who was shaving him, "John,
you cut me"--presently afterwards, "John, you cut me"--and again,
with the same patience or Conway-ence, "John, you cut me."
Sutton started up and cried, "By God! if he can bear it, I can't;
if you cut him once more, damn my blood if I don't knock you
down!" My dear Harry, I will knock myself down-but I fear I
shall cut you again. I wish you sorrow for the battle of Quebec.
I thought as much of losing the duchies of Aquitaine and Normandy
as Canada.

However, as my public feeling never carries me to any great
lengths of reflection, I bound all my Qu`ebecian meditations to a
little diversion on George Townshend's absurdities. The Daily
Advertiser said yesterday, that a certain great officer who had a
principal share in the reduction of Quebec had given it as his
opinion, that it would hold out a tolerable siege. This great
general has acquainted the public to-day in an advertisement
with--what do you think?--not that he has such an opinion, for he
has no opinion at all, and does not think that it can nor cannot
hold out a siege,--but, in the first place, that he was luckily
shown this paragraph, which, however, he does not like; in the
next, that he is and is not that great general, and yet that
there is nobody else that is; and, thirdly, lest his silence,
till he can proceed in another manner with the printer, (and
indeed it is difficult to conceive what manner of proceeding
silence is,) should induce anybody to believe the said paragraph,
he finds himself under a necessity of giving the public his
honour, that there is no more truth in this paragraph than in
some others which have tended to set the opinions of some general
officers together by the ears--a thing, however, inconceivable,
which he has shown may be done, by the confusion he himself has
made in the King's English. For his another manner with the
printer, I am impatient to see how the charge will lie against
Matthew Jenour, the publisher of the Advertiser, who, without
having the fear of God before his eyes, has forcibly, violently,
and maliciously, with an offensive weapon called a hearsay, and
against the peace of our sovereign Lord the King, wickedly and
traitorously assaulted the head of George Townshend, general, and
accused it of having an opinion, and him the said George
Townshend, has slanderously and of malice prepense believed to be
a great general; in short, to make Townshend easy, I wish, as he
has no more contributed to the loss of Quebec than he did to the
conquest of it, that he was to be sent to sign this capitulation

There is a delightful little French book come out, called "Tant
Mieux pour elle." It is called Cr`ebillon's, and I should think
was so. I only borrowed it, and cannot get one; tant pis pour
vous. By the way, I am not sure you did not mention it to me;
somebody did.

Have you heard that Miss Pitt has dismissed Lord Buckingham?
Tant mieux pour lui. She damns her eyes that she will marry some
captain--tant mieux pour elle. I think the forlorn earl should
match with Miss Ariadne Drury; and by the time my Lord Halifax
has had as many more children and sentiments by and for Miss
Falkner, as he can contrive to have. probably Miss Pitt may be
ready to be taken into keeping. Good night!

P. S. The Prince of Wales has been in the greatest anxiety for
Lord Bute; to whom he professed to Duncombe, and Middleton, he
has the greatest obligations; and when they pronounced their
patient out of danger, his Royal Highness gave to each of them a
gold modal of himself, as a mark of his sense of their care and

(78) Now first printed.

Letter 31 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Strawberry Hill, June 28, 1760. (page 72)

The devil is in people for fidgetting about! They can neither be
quiet in their own houses, nor let others be at peace in theirs!
Have not they enough of one another in winter, but they must
cuddle in summer too? For your part, you are a very priest: the
moment one repents, you are for turning it to account. I wish
you was in camp--never will I pity you again. How did you
complain when you was in Scotland, Ireland, Flanders, and I don't
know where, that you could never enjoy Park-place! Now you have a
whole summer to yourself, and you are as junkettaceous as my Lady
Northumberland. Pray, what horse-race do you go to next? For my
part, I can't afford to lead such a life: I have Conway-papers to
sort; I have lives of the painters to write; I have my prints to
paste, my house to build, and every thing in the world to tell
posterity. How am I to find time for all this? I am past forty,
and may 'not have above as many more to live; and here I am to go
here and to go there--well, I will meet you at Chaffont on
Thursday; but I positively will stay but one night. I have
settled with our brother that we will be at Oxford on the 13th of
July, as Lord Beauchamp is only loose from the 12th to the 20th.
I will be at Park-place on the 12th, and we will go together the
next day. If this is too early for you, we may put it off to the
15th: determine by Thursday, and one of us will write to Lord

Well! Quebec(79) is come to life again. Last night I went to see
the Holdernesses, who by the way are in raptures with Park-in
Sion-lane; as Cibber says of the Revolution, I met the Raising of
the Siege; that is, I met my lady in a triumphal car, drawn by a
Manks horse thirteen little fingers high, with Lady Emily:

et sibi Countess
Ne placeat, ma'amselle curru portatur eodem-

Mr. Milbank was walking in ovation by himself after the car; and
they were going to see the bonfire at the alehouse at the corner.
The whole procession returned with me; and from the countess's
dressing-room we saw a battery fired before the house, the mob
crying "God bless the good news!"--These are all the particulars
I know of the siege: my lord would have showed me the journal,
but we amused ourselves much better in going to eat peaches from
the new Dutch stoves.

The rain is come indeed, and my grass is as green as grass; but
all my hay has been cut and soaking this week, and I am too much
in the fashion not to have given Up gardening for farming; as
next I suppose We shall farming and turn graziers and hogdrivers.

I never heard of such a Semele as my Lady Stormont(80) brought to
bed in flames. I hope Miss Bacchus Murray will not carry the
resemblance through, and love drinking like a Pole. My Lady
Lyttelton is at Mr. Garrick's, and they were to have breakfasted
here this morning; but somehow or other they have changed their
mind. Good Night!

(79) Quebec was besieged by the French in the spring of this
year, with an army of fifteen thousand men, under the command of
the Chevalier de Levis, assisted by a naval force. They were,
however, repulsed by General Murray, who was supported by Lord
Colville and the fleet under his command; and on the night of the
16th of May raised the siege very precipitately, leaving their
cannon, small arms, stores, etc. behind them.-E.

(80) See vol. ii. p. 513, letter 336.-E.

Letter 32 To George Montagu, Esq.
Strawberry Hill, July 4, 1760. (page 73)

I am this minute returned from Chaffont, where I have been these
two days. Mr. Conway, Lady Ailesbury, Lady Lyttelton, and Mrs.
Shirley are there; and Lady Mary is going to add to the number
again. The house and grounds are still in the same dislocated
condition; in short, they finish nothing but children; even Mr.
Bentley's Gothic stable, which I call Houynhm castle, is not
roughcast yet. We went to see More-park, but I was not much
struck with it, after all the miracles I had heard Brown had
performed there. He has undulated the horizon in so many
artificial mole-hills, that it is full as unnatural as if it was
drawn with a rule and compasses. Nothing is done to the house;
there are not even chairs in the great apartment. My Lord Anson
is more slatternly than the Churchills, and does not even finish
children. I am going to write to Lord Beauchamp, that I shall be
at Oxford on the 15th, where I depend upon meeting you. I design
to see Blenheim, and Rousham, (is not that the name of Dormer's?)
and Althorp, and Drayton, before I return--but don't be
frightened, I don't propose to drag you to all or any of these,
if you don't like it.

Mr. Bentley has sketched a very pretty Gothic room for Lord
Holderness, and orders are gone to execute it directly in
Yorkshire. The first draught was Mason's; but as he does not
pretend to much skill, we were desired to correct it. I say we,
for I chose the ornaments. Adieu! Yours ever.

P. S. My Lady Ailesbury has been much diverted, and so will you
too. Gray is in @their neighbourhood. My Lady Carlisle says,
"he is extremely like me in his manner." They went a party to
dine on a cold loaf, and passed the day; Lady A. protests he
never opened his lips but once, and then only said, "Yes, my
lady, I believe so."(81)

(81) Gray, in a letter to Dr. Clarke, of the 12th of August,
says, "For me, I am come to my resting-place, and find it very
necessary, after living for a month in a house with three women
that laughed from morning till night, and would allow nothing to
the sulkiness of my disposition. Company and cards at home,
parties by land and water abroad, and (what they call) doing
something, that is, racketting about from morning to night, are
occupations, I find, that wear out my spirits." Works, vol. iii.
p. 253.-E.

Letter 33 To Sir Horace Mann.

Arlington Street, July 7, 1760. (page 74)

I shall write you but a short letter myself, because I make your
brother, who has this moment been here, write to-night with all
the particulars relating to the machine. The ten guineas are
included in the sixty; and the ship, which is not yet sailed, is
insured. My dear child, don't think of making me any excuses
about employing me; I owe you any trouble sure that I can
possibly undertake, and do it most gladly; in this one instance I
was sorry you had pitched upon me, because it was entirely out of
my sphere, and I could not even judge whether I had served you
well or not. I am here again waiting for Dagge, whom it is more
difficult to see than a minister; he disappointed me last time,
but writ to me afterwards that he would immediately settle the
affair for poor Sophia.

Quebec, you know, is saved; but our German histories don't go on
so well as our American. Fouquet is beat, and has lost five out
of twelve thousand men, after maintaining himself against thirty
for seven hours--he is grievously wounded, but not prisoner. The
Russians are pouring on--adieu the King of Prussia, unless Prince
Ferdinand's battle, of which we have expected news for these four
days, can turn the scale a little--we have settled that he is so
great a general, that you must not wonder if We expect that he
should beat all the world in their turns.

There has been a woful fire at Portsmouth; they say occasioned by
lightning; the shipping was saved, but vast quantities of stores
are destroyed.

I shall be more easy about your nephew, since you don't adopt my
idea; and yet I can't conceive with his gentle nature and your
good sense but you would have sufficient authority over him. I
don't know who your initials mean, Ld. F. and Sr. B. But don't
much signify, but consider by how many years I am removed from
knowing the rising generation.

I shall some time hence trouble you for some patterns of
brocadella of two or three colours: it is to furnish a round
tower that I am adding, with a gallery, to my castle: the
quantity I shall want will be pretty large; it is to be a
bedchamber entirely hung bed, and eight armchairs; the dimensions
thirteen feet high, and twenty-two diameter. Your Bianca Capello
is to be over the chimney. I shall scarce be ready to hang it
these two years, because I move gently, and never begin till I
have the money ready to pay, which don't come very fast, as it is
always to be saved out of my income, subject, too, to twenty
other whims and expenses. I only mention it now, that you may at
your leisure look me out half a dozen patterns; and be so good as
to let me know the prices. Stosch is not arrived yet as I have

Well,--at last, Dagge is come, and tells me I may assure you
positively that the money will be paid in- two months from this
time; he has been at Thistlethwait's,(82) which is nineteen miles
from town, and goes again this week to make him sign a paper, on
which the parson(82) will pay the money. I shall be happy when
this is completed to your satisfaction, that is, when your
goodness is rewarded by being successful; but till it is
completed, with all Mr. Dagge's assurances, I shall not be easy,
for those brothers are such creatures, that I shall always expect
some delay or evasion, when they are to part with money. Adieu!

(82) Brother and heirs of Mr. Whithed, who had changed his name
for an estate.
(Transcriber's note: this note really is cited twice in the above

Letter 34 To George Montagu, Esq.
Strawberry Hill, July 19, 1760. (page 75)

Mr. Conway, as I told you, was With me at Oxford, and I returned
with him to Park-place, and to-day hither. I am sorry you could
not come to us; we passed four days most agreeably, and I believe
saw more antique holes and corners than Tom Hearne did in
threescore years. You know my rage for Oxford; if King's-college
would not take it ill,. I don't l(now but I should retire
thither, and profess Jacobitism, that I might enjoy some
venerable set of chambers. Though the weather has been so
sultry, I ferreted from morning to night, fatigued that strong
young lad Lord Beauchamp, and harassed his tutors till they were
forced to relieve one another.' With all this, I found nothing
worth seeing, except the colleges themselves, painted glass, and
a couple of crosiers. Oh, yes! in an old buttery at Christ-
church I discovered two of the most glorious portraits by Holbein
in the world. They call them Dutch heads. I took them down,
washed them myself, and fetched out a thousand beauties. We went
to Blenheim and saw all Vanbrugh's quarries, all the acts of
parliament and gazettes on the Duke in inscriptions, and all the
old flock chairs, wainscot tables, and gowns and petticoats of
Queen Anne, that old Sarah could crowd among blocks of marble.
It looks like the palace of an auctioneer, who has-been chosen
King of Poland, and furnished his apartments with obsolete
trophies, rubbish that nobody bid for, and a dozen pictures, that
he had stolen from the inventories of different families. The
place is as ugly as the house, and the bridge, like the beggars
at the old Duchess's gate, begs for a drop of water, and is
refused. We went to Ditchley, which is a good house, well
furnished, has good portraits, a wretched saloon, and one
handsome scene behind the house. There are portraits of the
Litchfield hunt, in true blue frocks, with ermine capes. One of
the colleges has exerted this loyal pun, and made their east
window entirely of blue glass. But the greatest pleasure we had,
was in seeing Sir Charles Cotterel's at Housham; it reinstated
Kent with me; he has nowhere shown so much taste. The house is
old, and was bad; he has improved it, stuck as close as he could
to Gothic, has made a delightful library, and the whole is
comfortable. The garden is Daphne in little; the sweetest little
groves, streams, glades, porticoes, cascades, and river,
imaginable; all the scenes are perfectly classic. Well, if I had
such a house, such a library, so pretty a place, and so pretty a
wife, I think I should let King George send to Herenhausen for a
master of the ceremonies.

Make many compliments to all your family for me; Lord Beauchamp
was much obliged by your invitation. I shall certainly accept
it, as I return from the north; in the mean time, find out how
Drayton and Althorp lie according to your scale. Adieu! Yours
most sincerely.

Letter 35 To George Montagu, Esq.
Strawberry Hill, July 20, 1760. (page 76)

I shall be very sorry if I don't see you at Oxford on Tuesday
next: but what can I say if your Wetenhalls will break into my
almanack, and take my very day, can I help it! I must own I
shall be glad if their coach-horse is laid up with the
fashionable sore throat and fever can you recommend no coachman
to them like Dr. Wilmot, who will despatch it in three days? If
I don't see you at Oxford, I don't think I shall at Greatworth
till my return from the north, which will be about the 20th or
22d of August. Drayton,(83) be it known to you, is Lady Betty
Germain's., is in your own county, was the old mansion of the
Mordaunts, and is crammed with whatever Sir John could get from
them and the Norfolks. Adieu!

(83) The seat of Sir John Germain, Bart.; by whose will, and that
of his widow, Lady Betty, his property devolved upon Lord George
Sackvillc; who, in consequence, assumed, in 1770, the name of

Letter 36 To Sir Horace Mann.
Arlington Street, Aug. 1, 1760. (page 77)

I came to town to-day on purpose to see Stosch, who has been
arrived some days; and to offer him all manner, of civilities on
your account--when indeed they can be of no use to him, for there
is not a soul in town. There was a wild report last week of the
plague being in St. Thomas's Hospital, and to be sure Stosch must
believe there is some truth in it, for there is not a coach to be
seen, the streets are new paving, and the houses new painting,
just as it is always at this season. I told him if he had a mind
to see London, he must go to Huntingdon races, Derby races,
Stafford races, Warwick races-that is the fashionable route this
year-alas! I am going part of it; the Duchess of Grafton and Loo
are going to the Duke of Devonshire's, Lord Gower's, and Lord
Hertford's; but I shall contrive to arrive after every race is
over. Stosch delivered me the parcel safe, and I should have
paid him for your Burgundy, but found company with him, and
thought it not quite so civil to offer it at the first interview,
lest it should make him be taken for a wine-merchant. He dines
with me on Tuesday at Strawberry Hill, when I shall find an
opportunity. He is going for a few days to Wanstead, and then
for three months to a clergyman's in Yorkshire, to learn English.
Apropos, you did not tell me why he comes; is it to sell his
uncle's collection? Let me know before winter on what foot I
must introduce him, for I would fain return a few of the thousand
civilities you have showed at my recommendation.

The hereditary Prince has been beaten, and has beaten, with the
balance on his side; but though the armies are within a mile of
one another, I don't think it clear there will be a battle, as we
may lose much more than we can get. A defeat will cost Hanover
and Hesse; a victory cannot be vast enough to leave us at liberty
to assist the King of Prussia. He gave us a little advantage the
other day; outwitted Daun, and took his camp and magazines, and
aimed at Dresden; but to-day the siege is raised. Daun sometimes
misses himself, but never loses himself. It is not the fashion
to admire him, but for my part, I should think it worth while to
give the Empress a dozen Wolfes and Dauns, to lay aside the
cautious Marshal. Apropos to Wolfe, I cannot Imagine what you
mean by a design executing at Rome for his tomb. The designs
have been laid before my lord chamberlain several months; Wilton,
Adam, Chambers, and others, all gave in their drawings
immediately; and I think the Duke of Devonshire decided for the
first. Do explain this to me, or get a positive explanation. of
it-and whether any body is drawing for Adam or Chambers.

Mr. Chute and Mr. Bentley, to whom I showed your accounts of the
Papa-Portuguese war, were infinitely diverted, as I was too, with
it. The Portuguese, "who will turn Jews not Protestants," and the
Pope's confession, "which does more honour to his sincerity than
to his infallibility," are delightful. I will tell you who will
neither, turn Jew nor Protestant, Day, nor Methodist, which is
much more in fashion than either--Monsieur Fuentes will not; he
has given the Virgin Mary (who he fancies hates public places,
because he never met her at one,) his honour that he never will
go to any more. What a charming sort of Spanish Ambassador! I
wish they always sent us such-the worst they can do, is to buy
half a dozen converts.

My Lady Lincoln,(84) who was ready to be brought to bed, is dead
in three hours of convulsions. It has been a fatal year to great
ladies: within this twelvemonth have gone off Lady Essex, Lady
Besborough, Lady Granby, Lady Anson, and Lady Lincoln. My Lady
Coventry is still alive, sometimes at the point of death,
sometimes recovering. They fixed the spring: now the autumn is
to be critical for her.

I set out for my Lord Strafford's to-morrow se'nnight, so shall
not be able to send you any victory this fortnight.

General Clive(85) is arrived all over estates and diamonds. If a
beggar asks charity, be says, "Friend, I have no small brilliants
about me."

I forgot to tell you that Stosch was to dine with General
Guise.(86) The latter has notified to Christ Church, Oxford,
that in his will he has given them his collection of pictures.

(84) Catherine, eldest daughter of Henry Pelham, wife of Henry
Clinton, Earl of Lincoln, afterwards Duke of newcastle.

(85) Afterwards created Lord Clive in Ireland. It is to him that
we in great measure owe our dominion in India; in the acquisition
of which he is, however, reproached with having exercised great

(86) General Guise did leave his collection as he promised; but
the University employing the son of Bonus, the cleaner of
pictures, to repair them, he entirely repainted them, and as
entirely spoiled them.

Letter 37 To The Earl Of Strafford.
Strawberry Hill, Aug. 7, 1760. (page 78)

My dear lord,
You will laugh, but I am ready to cry, when I tell you that I
have no notion when I shall be able to wait on you.-Such a
calamity!--My tower is not fallen down, nor Lady Fanny Shirley
run away with another printer; nor has my Lady D * * * * insisted
on living with me as half way to Weybridge. Something more
disgraceful than all these, and wofully mortifying for a young
creature, who is at the same time in love with Lady Mary Coke,
and following the Duchess of Grafton and Loo all over the
kingdom. In short, my lord, I have got the gout-yes, the gout in
earnest. I was seized on Monday morning, suffered dismally all
night, am now wrapped in flannels like the picture of a Morocco
ambassador, and am carried to bed by two servants. You see
virtue and leanness are no preservatives. I write this now to
your lordship, because I think it totally impossible that I
should be able to set out the day after to-morrow, as I intended.
The moment I can, I will, but this is a tyrant that will not let
one name a day. All I know is, that it may abridge my other
parties, but shall not my stay at Wentworth Castle. The Duke of
Devonshire was so good as to ask me to be at Chatsworth
yesterday, but I did not know it time enough. As it happens, I
must have disappointed him. At present I look like Pam's father
more than one of his subjects; only one of my legs appears: The
rest my parti.colour'd robe conceals. Adieu! my dear lord.

Letter 38To The Hon. H. S/ Conway.
Strawberry Hill, August 7, 1760. (page 79)

I can give you but an unpleasant account of myself, I mean
unpleasant for me; every body else I suppose it will make laugh.
Come, laugh at once! I am laid up with the gout, am an absolute
cripple, am carried up to bed by two men, and could walk to China
as soon as cross the room. In short, here is my history: I have
been out of order this fortnight, without knowing what was the
matter with me; pains in my head, sicknesses at my stomach,
dispiritedness, and a return of the nightly fever I had in the
winter. I concluded a northern journey would take all this off-
-but, behold! on Monday morning I was seized as I thought with
the cramp in my left foot; however, I walked about all day:
towards evening it discovered itself by its true name, and that
night I suffered a great deal. However, on Tuesday I was -,again
able to go about the house; but since Tuesday I have not been
able to stir, and am wrapped in flannels and swathed like Sir
Paul Pliant on his wedding-night. I expect to hear that there is
a bet at Arthur's, which runs fastest, Jack Harris(87) or I.
Nobody would believe me six years ago when I said I had the gout.
They would do leanness and temperance honours to which they had
not the least claim.

I don't yet give up my expedition; as my foot is much swelled, I
trust this alderman distemper is going: I shall set out the
instant I am able; but I much question whether it will be soon
enough for me to get to Ragley by the time the clock strikes Loo.
I find I grow too old to make the circuit with the charming

I did not tell you about German skirmishes, for I knew nothing of
them: when two vast armies only scratch one another's faces it
gives me no attention. My gazette never contains above one or
two casualties of foreign politics:-overlaid, one king; dead of
convulsions, an electorate; burnt to death, Dresden.

I wish you joy of all your purchases; why, you sound as rich as
if you had had the gout these ten years. I beg their pardon; but
just at present, I am very glad not to be near the vivacity of
either Missy or Peter. I agree with you much about the
Minor:(89) there are certainly parts and wit in it. Adieu!

(87) John Harris, of Hayne in Devonshire, married to Mr. Conway's
eldest sister.

(88) Anne Liddell, Duchess of Grafton.

(89) Foote's comedy of The Minor came out at the Haymarket
theatre, and, though performed by a young and unpractised
company, brought full houses for many nights. In the character
of Mrs. Cole and Mr. Smirk, the author represented those of the
notorious Mother Douglas, and Mr. Langford, the auctioneer. In
the epilogue, spoken by Shift, which the author himself
performed, together with the other two characters, he took off,
to a degree of exactness, the manner and person of the celebrated
George Whitfield.-E.

Letter 39 To George Montagu, Esq.
Strawberry Hill, August 12, 1760. (page 80)

In what part of the island you are just now, I don't know; flying
about some where or other, I suppose. Well, it is charming to be
so young! Here I am, lying upon a couch, wrapped up in flannels,
with the gout in both feet--oh yes, gout in all the terms. Six
years ago I had it, and nobody would believe me--now they may
have proof. My legs are as big as your cousin Guildford's and
they don't use to be quite so large. I was seized yesterday
se'nnight; have had little pain in the day, but most
uncomfortable nights; however, I move about again a little with a
stick. If either my father or mother had had it, I should not
dislike it so much. I am bound enough to approve it if descended
genealogically: but it is an absolute upstart in me, and what is
more provoking, I had trusted to my great abstinence for keeping
me from it: but thus it is, if 1 had had any gentlemanlike
virtue, as patriotism or loyalty, I might have got something by
them: I had nothing but that beggarly virtue temperance, and she
had not interest enough to keep me from a fit of the gout.
Another plague is, that every body that ever knew any body that
had it, is so good as to come with advice, and direct me how to
manage it; that is, how to contrive to have it for a great many
years. I am very refractory; I say to the gout, as great
personages do to the executioners, "Friend, do your work
as quick as you can." They tell me of wine to keep it out of my
stomach; but I will starve temperance itself; I will be virtuous
indeed--that is, I will stick to virtue, though I find it is not
its own reward.

This confinement has kept me from Yorkshire; I hope, however, to
be at Ragley by the 20th, from whence I shall still go to Lord
Strafford's and by this delay you may possibly be at Greatworth
by my return, which will be about the beginning of September.
Write me a line as soon as you receive this; direct it to
Arlington Street, it will be sent after me. Adieu.

P. S. My tower erects its battlements bravely; my Anecdotes of
Painting thrive exceedingly: thanks to the gout, that has pinned
me to my chair: think of Ariel the sprite in a slit shoe!

Letter 40 To The Countess Of Ailesbury.(90)
Whichnovre, August 23, 1760. (page 81)

Well, madam, if I had known whither I was coming, I would not
have come alone! Mr. Conway and your ladyship should have come
too. Do you know, this is the individual manor-house,(91) where
married ladies may have a flitch of bacon upon the easiest terms
in the world? I should have expected that the owners would be
ruined in satisfying the conditions of the obligation, and that
the park would be stocked with hogs instead of deer. On the
contrary, it is thirty years since the flitch was claimed, and
Mr. Offley was never so near losing one as when you and Mr.
Conway were at Ragley. He so little expects the demand, that the
flitch is only hung in effigie over the hall chimney, carved in
wood. Are not you ashamed, Madam, never to have put in your
claim? It is above a year and a day that you have been married,
and I never once heard either of you mention a journey to
Whichnovre. If you quarrelled at loo every night, you could not
quit your pretensions with more indifference. I had a great mind
to take my oath, as one of your witnesses, that you neither of
you would, if you were at liberty, prefer any body else, ne
fairer ne fouler, and I could easily get twenty persons to swear
the same. Therefore, unless you will let the world be convinced,
that all your apparent harmony is counterfeit, you must set out
immediately for Mr. Offley's, or at least send me a letter of
attorney to claim the flitch in your names; and I will send it up
by the coach, to be left at the Blue Boar, or wherever you will
have it delivered. But you had better come in person; you will
see one of the prettiest spots in the world; it is a little
paradise, and the more like the antique one, as, by all I have
said, the married couple seems to be driven out of it. The house
is very indifferent: behind is a pretty park; the situation, a
brow of a hill commanding sweet meadows, through which the Trent
serpentizes in numberless windings and branches. The spires of
the cathedral of Litchfield are in front at a distance, with
variety of other steeples, seats, and farms, and the horizon
bounded by rich hills covered with blue woods. If you love a
prospect, or bacon, you will certainly come hither.

Wentworth Castle, Sunday night.

I had writ thus far yesterday, but had no opportunity of sending
my letter. I arrived here last night, and found only the Duke of
Devonshire, who went to Hardwicke this morning: they were down at
the menagerie, and there was a clean little pullet, with which I
thought his grace looked as if he should be glad to eat a slice
of Whichnovre bacon. We follow him to Chatsworth tomorrow, and
make our entry to the public dinner, to the disagreeableness of
which I fear even Lady Mary's company will not reconcile me.

My Gothic building, which tiny lord Strafford has executed in the
menagerie, has a charming effect. There are two bridges built
besides; but the new front is very little advanced. Adieu,

(90) Daughter of the Duke of Argyle, first married to the Earl of
Ailesbury, and afterwards to the Hon. H. S. Conway.

(91) Of Whichnovre, near Litchfield. Sir Philip de Somerville,
in the 10th of Edward III., held the manor of Whichnovre, etc. of
the Earls of Lancaster, lords of the honour of Tutbury, upon two
small fees, but also upon condition of his keeping ready
"arrayed, at all time of the year but Lent, one bacon flyke
hanging in his hall at Whichnovre, to be given to every man or
woman who demanded it a year and a day after the marriage upon
their swearing they would not have changed for none other, fairer
nor fouler, richer nor poorer, nor for no other descended of a
great lineage, sleeping nor waking, at no time," etc.-E.

Letter 41 To Sir Horace Mann.
Chatsworth, Aug. 28, 1760. (page 82)

I am a great way out of the world, and yet enough in the way of
news to send you a good deal. I have been here but two or three
days, and it has rained expresses. The most important
intelligence I can give you is that I was stopped from coming
into the north for ten days by a fit of the gout in both feet,
but as I have a tolerable quantity of resolution, I am now
running about with the children and climbing hills--and I intend
to have only just as much of this wholesome evil as shall carry
me to a hundred. The next point of consequence is, that the Duke
of Cumberland has had a stroke of the palsy-- As his courage is
at least equal to mine, he makes nothing of it; but being above
an inch more in the girth than I am, he is not Yet arrived at
skipping about the house. In truth, his case is melancholy: the
humours that have fallen upon the wound in his leg have kept him
lately from all exercise-. as he used much, and is so corpulent,
this must have bad consequences. Can one but pity him? A hero,
reduced by injustice to crowd all his fame into the supporting
bodily ills, and to looking upon the approach of a lingering
death with fortitude, is a real object of compassion. How he
must envy, what I am sure I don't, his cousin of Prussia risking
his life every hour against Cossacks and Russians! Well! but this
risker has scrambled another victory: he has beat that pert
pretender Laudon(92)--yet it looks to me as if he was but new
gilding his coffin; the undertaker Daun will, I fear, still have
the burying of him!

I received here your letter of the 9th, and am glad Dr. Perelli
so far justifies Sisson as to disculpate me. I trust I shall
execute Sophia's business better.

Stosch dined with me at Strawberry before I set out. He is a
very rational creature. I return homewards to-morrow; my
campaigns are never very long; I have great curiosity for seeing
places, but I despatch it soon, and am always impatient to be
back with my own Woden and Thor, my own Gothic Lares. While the
lords and ladies are at skittles, I just found a moment to write
you a line. Adieu!

Arlington Street, Sept. 1.

I had no opportunity of sending my letter to the secretary's
office, so brought it myself. You will see in the Gazette
another little victory of a Captain Byron over a whole diminutive
French squadron. Stosch has had a fever. He is now going to
establish himself at Salisbury.

(92) This was the battle of Licgnitz, fought on the 15th of
August, 1760, and in which the King of Prussia signally defeated
the Austrians under Marshal Laudon, and thereby saved Silesia.-D.

Letter 42 To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street, September 1, 1760. (page 83)

I was disappointed at your not being at home as I returned from
my expedition; and now I fear it must be another year before I
see Greatworth, as I have two or three more engagements on my
books for the residue of this season. I go next week to Lord
Waldegrave, and afterwards to George Selwyn, and shall return by
Bath, which I have never yet seen. Will not you and the general
come to Strawberry in October?

Thank you for your lamentations on my gout; it was, in proportion
to my size, very slender--my feet are again as small as ever they
were. When I had what I called big shoes, I could have danced a
minuet on a silver penny.

My tour has been extremely agreeable. I set out with winning a
good deal at loo at Ragley; the Duke of Grafton was not so
successful. and had some high words with Pam. I went from thence
to Offley's at Whichnovre, the individual manor of the flitch of
bacon, which has been growing rusty for these thirty years in his
hall. I don't wonder; I have no notion that one could keep in
good humour with one's wife for a year and a day, unless one was
to live on the very spot, which is one of the sweetest scenes I
ever saw. It is the brink of a high hill; the Trent wriggles
through at the foot; Litchfield and twenty other churches and
mansions decorate the view. Mr. Anson has bought an estate close
by, whence my lord used to cast many a wishful eye, though
without the least pretensions even to a bit of lard.

I saw Litchfield cathedral, which has been rich, but my friend
Lord Brook and his soldiery treated poor St. Chadd(93) with so
little ceremony, that it is in a most naked condition. In a
niche ,it the very summit they have crowded a statue of Charles
the Second, with a special pair of shoo-strings, big enough for a
weathercock. As I went to Lord Strafford's I passed through
Sheffield, which is one of the foulest towns in England in the
most charming situation there are two-and-twenty thousand
inhabitants making knives and scissors; they remit eleven
thousand pounds a week to London. One man there has discovered
the art of plating copper with silver; I bought a pair of
candlesticks for two guineas that are quite pretty. Lord
Strafford has erected the little Gothic building, which I got Mr.
Bentley to draw; I took the idea from Chichester-cross. It
stands on a high bank in the menagerie, between a pond and a
vale, totally bowered over with oaks. I went with the Straffords
to Chatsworth, and stayed there four days; there were Lady Mary
Coke, Lord Besborough and his daughters, Lord Thomond, Mr.
Boufoy, the Duke, the old Duchess,(94) and two of his brothers.
Would you believe that nothing was ever better humoured than the
ancient grace? She stayed every evening till it was dark in the
skittle-ground, keeping the score: and one night, that the
servants had a ball for Lady Dorothy'S(95) birthday, we fetched
the fiddler into the drawing-room, and the dowager herself danced
with us! I never was more disappointed than at Chatsworth, which,
ever since I was born, I have condemned. It is a glorious
situation; the vale rich in corn and verdure, vast woods hang
down the hills, which are green to the top, and the immense rocks
only serve to dignify the prospect. The river runs before the
door, and serpentizes more than you can conceive in the vale.
The duke is widening it, and will make it the middle of his park;
but I don't approve an idea they are going to execute, of a fine
bridge with statues under a noble cliff. If they will have a
bridge (which by the way will crowd the scene), it should be
composed of rude fragments, such as the giant of the Peak would
step upon, that he might not be wet-shod. The expense of the
works now carrying on will amount to forty thousand pounds. A
heavy quadrangle of stables is part of the plan,. is very
cumbrous, and standing higher than the house, is ready to
overwhelm it. The principal front of the house is beautiful, and
executed with the neatness of wrought-plate; the inside is most
sumptuous, but did not please me; the heathen gods, goddesses,
Christian virtues, and allegoric gentlefolks, are crowded into
every room, as if Mrs. Holman had been in heaven and invited
every body she saw. The great apartment is first; painted
ceilings, inlaid floors, and unpainted wainscots make every room
sombre. The tapestries are fine, but, not fine enough, and there
are few portraits. The chapel is charming. The great jet d'eau
I like, nor would I remove it; whatever is magnificent of the
kind in the time it was done, I would retain,
else all gardens and houses wear a tiresome resemblance. I
except that absurdity of a cascade tumbling down marble steps,
which reduces the steps to be of no use at all. I saw
Haddon,(96) an abandoned old castle of the Rutlands, in a
romantic situation, but which never could have composed a
tolerable dwelling. The Duke sent Lord John with me to
Hardwicke, where I was again disappointed; but I will not take
relations from others; they either don't see for themselves, or
can't see for me. How I had been promised that I should be
charmed with Hardwicke, and told that the Devonshires ought to
have established there! never was I less charmed in my life. The
house is not Gothic, but of that betweenity, that intervened when
Gothic declined and Palladian was creeping in--rather, this is
totally naked of either. It has vast chambers--aye, vast, such
as the nobility of that time delighted in, and did not know how
to furnish. The great apartment is exactly what it was when the
Queen of @Scots was kept there. Her council-chamber, the
council-chamber of a poor woman, who had only two secretaries, a
gentleman usher, an apothecary, a confessor, and three maids, is
so outrageously spacious, that you would take it for King
David's, who thought, contrary to all modern experience, that in
the multitude of counsellors there is wisdom. At the upper
end is the state, with a long table, covered with a sumptuous
cloth, embroidered and embossed with gold, -at least what was
gold: so are all the tables. Round the top of the chamber runs a
monstrous frieze, ten or twelve feet deep, representing
stag-hunting in miserable plastered relief. The next is her
dressing-room, hung with patchwork on black velvet; then her
state bedchamber. The bed has been rich beyond description, and
now hangs in costly golden tatters. The hangings, part of which
they say her Majesty worked, are composed of figures as large as
life, sewed and embroidered on black velvet, white satin, etc.
and represent the virtues that were necessary for her, or that
she was forced to have, as patience and temperance, etc. The
fire-screens are particular; pieces of yellow velvet, fringed
with gold, hang on a cross-bar of wood, which is fixed on the top
of a single stick, that rises from the foot. The only furniture
which has any appearance of taste are the table and cabinets,
which are all of oak, richly carved. There is a privata chamber
within, where she lay, her arms and style over the door; the
arras hangs over all the doors; the gallery is sixty yards long,
covered with bad tapestry, and wretched pictures of Mary herself,
Elizabeth in a gown of sea-monsters, Lord Darnley, James the
Fifth and his Queen, curious, and a whole history of Kings of
England, not worth sixpence apiece. There is an original of old
Bess(97) of Hardwicke herself, who built the house. Her estates
were then reckoned at sixty thousand pounds a-year, and now let
for two hundred thousand pounds. Lord John Cavendish told me,
that the tradition in the family was that it had been prophesied
to her that she should never die as long as she was building; and
that at last she died in a hard frost, when the labourers could
not work. There is a fine bank of old oaks in the park over a
lake; nothing else pleased me there. However, I was so diverted
with this old beldam and her magnificence, that I made this
epitaph for her:

Four times the nuptial bed she warm'd,
And every time so well perform'd,
That when death spoil'd each husband's billing,
He left the widow every shilling.
Fond was the dame, but not dejected;
Five stately mansions she erected
With more than royal pomp, to vary
The prison of her captive
When Hardwicke's towers shall bow their head,
Nor mass be more in Worksop said;
When Bolsover's fair fame shall tend,
Like Olcotes, to its mouldering end;
When Chatsworth tastes no Can'dish bounties,
Let fame forget this costly countess.

As I returned, I saw Newstead and Althorpe: I like both. The
former is the very abbey.(98) The great east window(99) of the
church remains, and connects with the house; the hall entire, the
refectory entire, the cloister untouched, with the ancient
cistern of the convent, and their arms on it; a private chapel
quite perfect. The park, which is still charming, has not been
so much unprofaned; the present lord has lost large sums, and
paid part in old oaks, five thousand pounds of which have been
cut near the house. In recompense he has built two baby forts,
to pay his country in castles for the damage done to the navy,
and planted a handful of Scotch firs, that look like plough-boys
dressed in old family liveries for a public day. In the hall is
a very good collection of pictures, all animals; the refectory,
now the great-drawing-room, is full of Byrons; the vaulted roof
remaining, but the windows have new dresses making for them by a
Venetian tailor.(100) Althorpe(101) has several very fine
pictures by the best Italian hands, and a gallery of all one's
acquaintance by Vandyke and Lely. I wonder you never saw it; it
is but six miles from Northampton. Well, good night; I have writ
you such a volume, that you see I am forced to page it. The Duke
has had a stroke of the palsy, but is quite recovered, except in
some letters, which he cannot pronounce; and it is still visible
in the contraction of one side of his mouth. My compliments to
your family.

(93) The patron saint Of the town. The imagery and carved work
on the front of the cathedral was much injured in 1641. The
cross upon the west window is said to have been frequently aimed
at by Cromwell's soldiery.-E.

(94) Daughter of John Hoskins, Esq. and widow of William the
third Duke of Devonshire.

(95) Afterwards Duchess of Portland.

(96) Anciently the seat of the Vernons. Sir George Vernon, in
Queen Elizabeth's time, was styled King of the Peak," and the
property came into the Manners family by his daughter marrying
Thomas, son of the first Earl of Rutland.-E.

(97) She was daughter of John Hardwicke, of Hardwicke in
Derbyshire. Her first husband was Robert Barley, Esq. who
settled his large estate on her and hers. She married, secondly,
Sir William Cavendish; her third husband was Sir William St. Lo;
and her fourth was George Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, whose
daughter, Lady Grace, married her son by Sir William Cavendish.

(98) Evelyn, who visited Newstead in 1654, says of it:--"It is
situated much like Fontainbleau, in France, capable of being made
a noble seat, accommodated as it is with brave woods and streams;
it has yet remaining the front of a glorious abbey church." Lord
Byron thus beautifully describes the family seat, in the
thirteenth canto of Don Juan:

"An old, old monastery once, and now
Still older mansion-of a rich and rare
Mix'd Gothic, much as artists all allow
Few specimens yet left us can compare.

"Before the mansion lay a lucid lake,
Broad as transparent, deep, and freshly fed
By a river, which its soften'd way did take
In currents through the calmer water spread
Around: the wildfowl nestled in the brake
And sedges, brooding in their liquid bed:
The woods sloped downwards to its brink, and stood
With their green faces fix'd upon the flood."-E.

(99) A mighty window, hollow in the centre,
Shorn of its glass of thousand colourings,
Through which the deepen'd glories once could enter,
Streaming from off the sun like seraph's wings,
Now yawns all desolate."-E.

(100) "----The cloisters still were stable,
The cells, too, and refectory, I ween:
An exquisite small chapel had been able
Still unimpaired to decorate the scene
The rest had been reform'd, replaced, or sunk,
And spoke more of the baron than the monk."-E.

(101) The seat of Earl Spencer.-E.

Letter 43 To The Earl Of Strafford.
Strawberry Hill, Sept. 4, 1760. (87)

My dear lord,
You ordered me to tell you how I liked Hardwicke. To say the
truth, not exceedingly. The bank of oaks over the ponds is fine,
and the vast lawn behind the house: I saw nothing else that is
superior to the common run of parks. For the house, it did not
please me at all; there is no grace, no ornament, no Gothic in
it. I was glad to see the style of furniture of that age; and my
imagination helped me to like the apartment of the Queen of
Scots. Had it been the chateau of a Duchess of Brunswick, on
which they had exhausted the revenues of some centuries, I don't
think I should have admired it at all. In short, Hardwicke
disappointed me as much as Chatsworth surpassed my expectation.
There is a richness and vivacity of prospect in the latter; in
the former, nothing but triste grandeur.

Newstead delighted me. There is grace and Gothic indeed--good
chambers and a comfortable house. The monks formerly were the
only sensible people that had really good mansions.(102) I saw
Althorpe too, and liked it very well: the pictures are fine. In
the gallery I found myself quite at home; and surprised the
housekeeper by my familiarity with the portraits.

I hope you have read Prince Ferdinand's thanksgiving, where he
has made out a victory by the excess of his praises. I supped at
Mr. Conway's t'other night with Miss West'(103) and we diverted
ourselves with the encomiums on her Colonel Johnston. Lady
Ailesbury told her, that to be sure next winter she would burn
nothing but laurel-faggots. Don't you like Prince Ferdinand's
being so tired with thanking, that at last he is forced to turn
God over to be thanked by the officers?

In London there is a more cruel campaign than that waged by the
Russians: the streets are a very picture of the murder of the
innocents--one drives over nothing but poor dead dogs!(104) The
dear, good-natured, honest, sensible creatures! Christ! how can
anybody hurt them? Nobody could but those Cherokees the English,
who desire no better than to be halloo'd to blood:--one day
Admiral Byng, the next Lord George Sackville, and to-day the poor

I cannot help telling your lordship how I was diverted the night
I returned hither. I was sitting with Mrs. Clive, her sister and
brother, in the bench near the road at the end of her long walk.
We heard a violent scolding; and looking out, saw a pretty woman
standing by a high chaise, in which was a young fellow, and a
coachman riding by. The damsel had lost her hat, her cap, her
cloak, her temper, and her senses; and was more drunk and more
angry than you can conceive. Whatever the young man had or had
not done to her. she would not ride in the chaise with him, but
stood cursing and swearing in the most outrageous style: and when
she had vented all the oaths she could think of, she at last
wished perfidion might seize him. You may imagine how we
laughed. The fair intoxicate turned round, and cried "I am
laughed at!--Who is it!--What, Mrs. Clive? Kitty Clive?--No:
Kitty Clive would never behave so!" I wish you could have seen
My neighbour's confusion. She certainly did not grow paler than
ordinary. I laugh now while I repeat it to you.

I have told Mr. Bentley the great honour you have done him, my
lord. He is happy the Temple succeeds to please you.

(102) "----It lies perhaps a little low, Because the monks
preferred a hill behind To shelter their devotion from the wind."

(103) Lady Henrietta-Cecilia, eldest daughter of John, afterwards
Lord de la Warr. In 1763, she was married to General James

(104) In the summer of this year the dread of mad dogs' raged
like an epidemic: the periodical publications of the time being
filled with little else of domestic interest than the squabbles
of the dog-lovers and dog-haters. The Common Council of London,
at a meeting on the @6th August, issued an order for killing all
dogs found in the street., or highways after the 27th, and
offered a reward of two shillings for every dog that should be
killed and buried in the skin. In Goldsmith's Citizen of the
World there is an amusing paper in which he ridicules the fear of
mad dogs as one of those epidemic terrors to which our countrymen
are occasionally prone.-E.

Letter 44 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Strawberry Hill, September 19, 1760. (page 88)

thank you for your notice, though I should certainly have
contrived to see you without it. Your brother promised he would
come and dine here one day with you and Lord Beauchamp. I go to
Navestock on Monday, for two or three days; but that Will not
exhaust your waiting.(105) I shall be in town on Sunday; but- as
that is a court-day, I will not--so don't propose it--dine with
you at Kensington; but I will be with my Lady Hertford about six,
where your brother and you will find me if you please. I cannot
come to Kensington in the evening, for I have but one pair of
horses in the world, and they will have to carry me to town in
the morning.

I wonder the King expects a battle; when Prince Ferdinand can do
as well without fighting, why should he fight? Can't he make the
hereditary Prince gallop into a mob of Frenchmen, and get a
scratch on the nose; and Johnson straddle across a river and come
back with six heads of hussars in his fob, and then can't he
thank all the world, and assure them he shall never forget the
victory they have not gained? These thanks are sent over: the
Gazette swears that this no-success was chiefly owing to General
Mostyn; and the Chronicle protests, that it was achieved by my
Lord Granby's losing his hat, which he never wears; and then his
lordship sends over for three hundred thousand pints of porter to
drink his own health; and then Mr. Pitt determines to carry on
the war for another year; and then the Duke of Newcastle hopes
that we shall be beat, that he may lay the blame on Mr. Pitt, and
that then he shall be minister for thirty years longer; and then
we shall be the greatest nation in the universe. Amen! My dear
Harry, you see how easy it is to be a hero. If you had but taken
impudence and Oatlands in your way to Rochfort, it would not have
signified whether you had taken Rochfort or not. Adieu! I don't
know who Lady Ailesbury's Mr. Alexander is. If she curls like a
vine with any Mr. Alexander but you, I hope my Lady Coventry will
recover and be your Roxana.

(105) Mr. Conway, as groom of the bedchamber to the King, was
then in waiting at Kensington.

Letter 45 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Strawberry Hill. (page 89)

You are good for nothing; you have no engagement, you have no
principles; and all this I am not afraid to tell you,. as you
have left your sword behind you. If you take it ill, I have
given my nephew, who brings your sword, a letter of attorney to
fight you for me; I shall certainly not see you: my Lady
Waldegrave goes to town on Friday, but I remain here. You lose
Lady Anne Connolly and her forty daughters, who all dine here
to-day upon a few loaves and three small fishes. I should have
been glad if you would have breakfasted here on Friday on your
way; but as I lie in bed rather longer than the lark, I fear our
hours would not suit one another. Adieu!

Letter 46 To George Montagu, Esq.
Strawberry Hill, October 2, 1760. (page 90)

I announce my Lady Huntingtower(106) to you. I hope you will
approve the match a little more than I Suppose my Lord Dysart
will, as he does not yet know, though they have been married
these two hours, that, at ten o'clock this morning, his son
espoused my niece Charlotte at St. James's church. The moment
my Lord Dysart is dead, I will carry you to see the Ham-house;
it is pleasant to call cousins with a charming prospect over
against one. Now you want to know the detail: there was none.
It is not the style of Our Court to have long negotiations; we
don't fatigue the town with exhibiting the betrothed for six
months together in public places. Vidit, venit, vicit;--the
young lord has liked her some time; on Saturday se'nnight He
came to my brother, and made his demand. The princess did not
know him by sight, and did not dislike him when she did; she
consented. and they were married this morning. My Lord Dysart
is such a - that nobody will pity him; he has kept his son till
six-and-twenty, and would never make the least settlement on
him; "Sure," said the young man, "if he will do nothing for me,
I may please myself; he cannot hinder me of ten thousand pounds
a-year, and sixty thousand that are in the funds, all entailed
on me"--a reversion one does not wonder the bride did not
refuse, as there is present possession too of a very handsome
person; the only thing his father has ever given him. His
grandfather, Lord Granville, has always told him to choose a
gentlewoman, and please himself; yet I should think the ladies
Townshend and Cooper would cackle a little.

I wish you could have come here this October for more reasons
than one. The Teddingtonian history is grown wofully bad.
Mark Antony, though no boy, persists in losing the world two or
three times over for every gipsy that be takes for a Cleopatra.
I have laughed, been scolded, represented, begged, and at last
spoken very roundly--all with equal success; at present we do
not meet. I must convince him of ill usage, before I can make
good usage of any service. All I have done is forgot, because
I will not be enamoured of Hannah Cleopatra too. You shall
know the whole history when I see you; you may trust me for
still being kind to him; but that he must not as yet suspect;
they are bent on going to London, that she may visit and be
visited, while he puts on his red velvet and ermine, and goes
about begging in robes.

Poor Mr. Chute has had another very severe fit of the gout; I
left him in bed, but by not hearing he is worse, trust on
Saturday to find him mended. Adieu!

(106) Charlotte, third daughter of Sir Edward Walpole, and
sister to Lady Waldegrave, and to Mrs. Keppel.

Letter 47 To Sir Horace Mann.
Arlington Street, Oct. 5, 1760. Page 91)

I am afraid you will turn me off from being your gazetteer. Do
you know that I came to town to-day by accident, and was here
four hours before I heard that Montreal was taken? The express
came early this morning. I am so posthumous in my intelligence,
that you must not expect any intelligence from me--but the same
post that brings you this, will convey the extraordinary gazette,
which of late is become the register of the Temple of Fame. All
I know is, that the bonfires and squibs are drinking General
Amherst's(107) health.

Within these two days Fame and the Gazette have laid another egg;
I wish they may hatch it themselves! but it is one of that
unlucky hue which has so often been addled; in short, behold
another secret expedition. It was notified on Friday, and
departs in a fortnight. Lord Albemarle, it is believed, will
command it. One is sure at least that it cannot be to America,
for we have taken it all. The conquest of Montreal may perhaps
serve in full of all accounts, as I suspect a little that this
new plan was designed to amuse the City of London at the
beginning of the session, who would not like to have wasted so
many millions on this campaign, without any destruction of friend
or foe.(108) Now, a secret expedition may at least furnish a
court-martial, and the citizens love persecution even better than
their money. A general or in admiral to be mobbed either by
their applause or their hisses, is all they desire.-Poor Lord

The charming Countess(109) is dead at last; and as if the whole
history of both sisters was to be extraordinary, the Duchess of
Hamilton is in a consumption too, and going abroad directly.
Perhaps you may see the remains of these prodigies, you will see
but little remains; her features were never so beautiful as Lady
Coventry's, and she has long been changed, though not yet I think
above six-and-twenty. The other was but twenty-seven.

As all the great ladies are mortal this year, my family is forced
to recruit the peerage. My brother's last daughter is married;
and, as Biddy Tipkin(110) says, though their story is too short
for a romance, it will make a very pretty novel--nay, it is
almost brief enough for a play, and very near comes within one of
the unities, the space of four-and-twenty hours. There is in the
world, particularly in my world, for he lives directly over
against me across the water, a strange brute called Earl of
Dysart.(111) Don't be frightened, it is not he. His son, Lord
Huntingtower, to whom he gives but four hundred pounds a year, is
a comely young gentleman of twenty-six, who has often had
thoughts of trying whether his father would not like
grandchildren better than his own children, as sometimes people
have more grand-tenderness than paternal. All the answer he
could ever get was, that the Earl could not afford, as he has
five younger children, to make any settlement, but he offered, as
a proof of his inability and kindness, to lend his son a large
sum of money at low interest. This indigent usurer has thirteen
thousand pounds a year, and sixty thousand pounds in the funds.
The money and ten of the thirteen thousand in land are entailed
on Lord Huntingtower. The young lord, it seems, has been in love
with Charlotte for some months, but thought so little of
inflaming her, that yesterday fortnight she did not know him by
sight. On that day he came and proposed himself to my brother,
who with much surprise heard his story, but excused himself from
giving an answer. He said, he would never force the inclinations
of his children; he did not believe his daughter had any
engagement or attachment, but she might have: he would send for
her and know her mind. She was at her sister Waldegrave's, to
whom, on receiving the notification, she said very sensibly, "if
I was but nineteen, I would refuse pointblank; I do not like to
be married in a week to a man I never saw. But I am
two-and-twenty; some people say I am handsome, some say I am not;
I believe the truth is, I am likely to be at large and to go off
soon-it is dangerous to refuse so great a match." Take notice of
the married in a week; the love that was so many months in
ripening, could not stay above a week. She came and saw this
impetuous lover, and I believe was glad she had not refused
pointblank-for they were married last Thursday. I tremble a
little for the poor girl; not to mention the oddness of the
father, and twenty disagreeable things that may be in the young
man, who has been kept and lived entirely out of the world; @
takes her fortune, ten thousand pounds, and cannot settle another
shilling upon her till his father dies, and then promises Only a
thousand a year. Would one venture one's happiness and one's
whole fortune for the chance of being Lady Dysart?@if Lord
Huntingtower dies before his father, she will not have sixpence.
Sure my brother has risked too much!

Stosch, who is settled at Salisbury, has writ to me to recommend
him to somebody or other as a travelling governor or companion.
I would if I knew any body: but who travels now? He says you
have notified his intention to me-so far from it, I have not
heard from you this age: I never was SO long without a letter-
-but you don't take Montreals and Canadas every now and then.
You repose like the warriors in Germany-at least I hope so--I
trust no ill health has occasioned your silence. Adieu!

(107) General Sir Jeffrey Amherst distinguished himself in the
war with the French in America. He was subsequently created a
peer, and made commander-in-chief.-D.

(108) The large armament, intended for a secret expedition and
collected at Portsmouth, was detained there the whole summer, but
the design was laid aside.-E.

(109) Maria Gunning, Countess of Coventry.

(110) In Steele's "Tender Husband"

(111) Lionel Tolmache, Earl of Dysart, lived at Ham House, over
against Twickenham.

Letter 48 To George Montagu, Esq.
Strawberry Hill, Oct. 14, 1760. (page 92)

If you should see in the newspapers, that I have offered to raise
a regiment at Twickenham, am going with the expedition, and have
actually kissed hands, don't believe it; though I own, the two
first would not be more surprising than the last. I will tell
you how the calamity befell me, though you will laugh instead of
pitying me. Last Friday morning, I was very tranquilly writing
my Anecdotes of Painting,--I heard the bell at the gate ring--I
called out, as usual, "Not at home;" but Harry, who thought it
would be treason to tell a lie, when he saw red liveries, owned I
was, and came running up: "Sir, the Prince of Wales is at the
door, and says he is come on purpose to make you a visit!" There
was I, in the utmost confusion, undressed, in my slippers, and my
hair about my ears; there was no help, insanunt vetem aspiciet-
-and down I went to receive him. Him was the Duke of York.
Behold my breeding of the old court; at the foot of the stairs I
kneeled down, and kissed his hand. I beg your uncle Algernon
Sidney's pardon, but I could not let the second Prince of the
blood kiss my hand first. He was, as he always is, extremely
good-humoured; and I, as I am not always, extremely respectful.
He stayed two hours, nobody with him but Morrison; I showed him
all my castle, the pictures of the Pretender's sons, and that
type of the Reformation, Harry the Eighth's ----, moulded into a
to the clock he gave Anne Boleyn. - But observe my luck; he would
have the sanctum sanctorum in the library opened: about a month
ago I removed the MSS. in another place. All this is very well;
but now for the consequences; what was I to do next? I have not
been in a court these ten years, consequently have never kissed
hands in the next reign. Could I let a Duke of York visit me,
and never go to thank him? I know, if I was a great poet, I might
be so brutal, and tell the world in rhyme that rudeness is
virtue; or, if I was a patriot, I might, after laughing at Kings
and Princes for twenty years, catch at the first opening of
favour and beg a place. In truth, I can do neither; yet I could
not be shocking; I determined to go to Leicester-house, and
comforted myself that it was not much less meritorious to go
there for nothing, than to stay quite away; yet I believe I must
make a pilgrimage to Saint Liberty of Geneva, before I am
perfectly purified, especially as I am dipped even at St.
James's. Lord Hertford, at my request, begged my Lady Yarmouth
to get an order for my Lady Henry to go through the park, and the
countess said so many civil things about me and my suit, and
granted it so expeditiously, that I shall be forced to visit,
even before she lives here next door to my Lady Suffolk. My
servants are transported; Harry expects to see me first minister,
like my father, and reckons upon a place in the Custom-house..
Louis, who drinks like a German, thinks himself qualified for a
page of the back stairs--but these are not all my troubles. As I
never dress in summer, I had nothing upon earth but a frock,
unless I went in black, like a poet, and pretended that a cousin
was dead, one of the muses. Then I was in panics lest I should
call my Lord Bute, your Royal Highness. I was not indeed in much
pain at the conjectures the Duke of Newcastle would make on such
an apparition, even if he should suspect that a new opposition
was on foot, and that I was to write some letters to the Whigs.

Well, but after all, do you know that my calamity has not
befallen me yet? I could not determine to bounce over head and
ears into the drawing-room at once, without one soul knowing why
I cane thither. I went to London on Saturday night, and Lord
Hertford was to carry me the next Morning; in the meantime I
wrote to Morrison, explaining my gratitude to one brother, and my
unacquaintance with t'other, and how afraid I was that it would
be thought officious and forward if I was presented now, and
begging he would advise me what to do; and all this upon my
bended knee, as if Schutz had stood over me and dictated every
syllable. The answer was by order from the Duke of York, that he
smiled at my distress, wished to put me to no inconvenience, but
desired, that as the acquaintance had begun without restraint, it
might continue without ceremony. Now I was in more perplexity
than ever! I could not go directly, and yet it was not fit it
should be said I thought it an inconvenience to wait on the
Prince of Wales. At present it is decided by a jury of court
matrons, that is, courtiers, that I must write to my Lord Bute
and explain the whole, and why I desire to come now--don't fear;
I will take care they shall understand how little I come for. In
the mean time, you see it is my fault if I am not a favourite,
but alas! I am not heavy enough to be tossed in a blanket, like
Doddington; I should never come down again; I cannot be driven in
a royal curricle to wells and waters: I can't make love now to my
contemporary Charlotte Dives; I cannot quit Mufti and my
parroquet for Sir William Irby,(112) and the prattle of a
drawing-room, nor Mrs. Clive for Aelia Lalia Chudleigh; in short,
I could give up nothing but an Earldom of EglingtOn; and yet I
foresee, that this phantom of the reversion of a reversion will
make me plagued; I shall have Lord Egmont whisper me again; and
every tall woman and strong man, that comes to town, will make
interest with me to get the Duke of York to come and see them.
Oh! dreadful, dreadful! It is plain I never was a patriot, for I
don't find my virtue a bit staggered by this first glimpse of
court sunshine.

Mr. Conway has pressed to command the new Quixotism on foot, and
has been refused; I sing a very comfortable te Deum for it.
Kingsley, Craufurd, and Keppel, are the generals, and Commodore
Keppel the admiral. The mob are sure of being pleased; they will
get a conquest, or a court-martial. A very unpleasant thing has
happened to the Keppels; the youngest brother, who had run in
debt at Gibraltar, and was fetched away to be sent to Germany,
gave them the slip at the first port they touched at in Spain,
surrendered himself to the Spanish governor, has changed his
religion, and sent for a ---- that had been taken from him at
Gibraltar; naturam expellas fure`a. There's the true blood of
Charles the Second sacrificing every thing for popery and a

Lord Bolingbroke, on hearing the name of Lady Coventry at
Newmarket, affected to burst into tears, and left the room, not
to hide his crying, but his not crying.

Draper has handsomely offered to go on the expedition, and goes.

Ned Finch, t'other day, on the conquest of Montreal, wished the
King joy of having lost no subjects, but those that perished in
the rabbits. Fitzroy asked him if he thought they crossed the
great American lakes in such little boats as one goes to
Vauxhall? he replied, "Yes, Mr. Pitt said the rabbits"--it was
in the falls, the rapids.

I like Lord John almost as well as Fred. Montagu; and I like your
letter better than Lord John; the application of Miss Falkener
was charming. Good night.

P. S. If I had been told in June, that I should have the gout,
and kiss hands before November, I don't think I should have given
much credit to the prophet.

(112) In 1761, created Baron Boston.-E.

Letter 49 To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street. October 25, 1760. (page 95)
I tell a lie: I am at Mr. Chute's.

Was ever so agreeable a man as King George the Second, to die the
very day it was necessary to save me from a ridicule? I was to
have kissed hands to-morrow-but you will not care a farthing
about that now; so I must tell you all I know of departed
majesty. He went to bed well last night, rose at six this
morning as usual, looked, I suppose, if all his money was in his
purse, and called for his chocolate. A little after seven, he
went into the water-closet; the German valet de chambre heard a
noise, listened, heard something like a groan, ran in, and found
the hero of Oudenarde and Dettingen on the floor, with a gash on
his right temple, by falling against the corner of a bureau. He
tried to speak, could not, and expired. Princess Emily was
called, found him dead, and wrote to the Prince. I know not a
syllable, but am come to see and hear as much as I can. I fear
you will cry and roar all night, but one could not keep it from
you. For my part, like a new courtier, I comfort myself,
considering what a gracious Prince comes next. Behold my luck.
I wrote to Lord Bute, just in all the unexpecteds, want Of
ambition, disinteresteds, etc. that I could amass, gilded with as
much duty affection, zeal, etc. as possible, received a very
gracious and sensible answer, and was to have been presented
to-morrow, and the talk of the few people, that are in town, for
a week. Now I shall be lost in the crowd, shall be as well there
as I desire to be, have done what was right, they know I want
nothing, may be civil to me very cheaply, and I can go and see
the puppet-show for this next month at my ease: but perhaps you
will think all this a piece of art; to be sure, I have timed my
court, as luckily as possible, and contrived to be the last
person in England that made interest with the successor. You see
virtue and philosophy always prone to know the world and their
own interest. However, I am not so abandoned a patriot yet, as
to desert my friends immediately; you shall hear now and then the
events of this new reign--if I am not made secretary of state--if
I am, I shall certainly take care to let you know it.

I had really begun to think that the lawyers for once talked
sense, when they said the King never dies. He probably cot his
death, as he liked to have done two years ago, by viewing the
troops for the expedition from the wall of Kensington Garden. My
Lady Suffolk told me about a month ago that he had often told
her, speaking of the dampness of Kensington, that he would never
die there. For my part, my man Harry will always be a favourite:
he tells me all the amusing news; he first told me of the late
Prince of Wales's death, and to-day of the King's.

Thank you, Mr. Chute is as well as can be expected--in this
national affliction. Sir Robert Brown has left every thing to my
Lady--aye, every thing, I believe his very avarice.

Lord Huntingtower wrote to offer his father eight thousand pounds
of Charlotte's fortune, if he would give them one thousand a-year
in present, and settle a jointure on her. The Earl returned this
truly laconic, for being so unnatural, an answer. "Lord
Huntingtower, I answer your letter as soon as I receive it; I
wish you joy; I hear your wife is very accomplished. Yours,
Dysart." I believe my Lady Huntingtower must contrive to make it
convenient for me, that my Lord Dysart should die--and then he
will. I expect to be a very respectable personage in time, and
to have my tomb set forth like the Lady Margaret Douglas, that I
had four earls to my nephews, though I never was one myself.
Adieu! I must go govern the nation.

Letter 50 To The Earl Of Strafford.
Arlington Street, October 26, 1760. (page 96)

My dear lord,
I beg your pardon for so long a silence in the late reign; I knew
nothing worth telling you; and the great event of this morning
you Z, will certainly hear before it comes to you by so sober and
regular a personage as the postman. The few circumstances known
yet are, that the King went well to bed last night; rose well at
six this morning; went to the water-closet a little after seven
-, had a fit, fell against a bureau, and gashed his right temple:
the valet de chambre heard a noise and a groan, and ran in: the
King tried to speak, but died instantly. I should hope this
would draw you southward: such scenes are worth looking at, even
by people who regard them with such indifference as your lordship
and I. I say no more, for what will mix in a letter with the
death of a King! I am my lady's and your lordship's most
faithful servant.

Letter 51 To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street, Tuesday, October 28. (page 97)

The new reign dates with great propriety and decency; the
civilest letter to Princess Emily; the greatest kindness to the
duke; the utmost respect to the dead body. No changes to be made
but those absolutely necessary, as the household, etc.--and what
some will think the most unnecessary, in the representative of
power. There are but two new cabinet counsellors named; the Duke
of York and Lord Bute, so it must be one of them. The Princess
does not remove to St. James's, so I don't believe it will be
she. To-day England kissed hands, so did I, and it is more
comfortable to kiss hands with all England, than to have all
England ask why one kisses hands. Well! my virtue is safe; I had
a gracious reception, and yet I am almost as impatient to return
to Strawberry, as I was to leave it on the news. There is great
dignity and grace in the King's manner. I don't say this, like
my dear Madame de S`evign`e, because he was civil to me but the
part is well acted. If they do as well behind the scenes, as
upon the stage, it will be a very complete reign. Hollinshed, or
Baker, would think it begins well, that is, begins ill; it has
rained without intermission, and yesterday there came a cargo of
bad news, all which, you know, are similar omens to a man who
writes history upon the information of the clouds. Berlin is
taken by the Prussians, the hereditary Prince beaten by the
French. Poor Lord Downe has had three wounds. He and your
brother's Billy Pitt are prisoners. Johnny Waldegrave was shot
through the hat and through the coat; and would have been shot
through the body, if he had had any. Irish Johnson is wounded in
the hand; Ned Harvey somewhere; and Prince Ferdinand mortally in
his reputation for sending this wild detachment. Mr. Pitt has
another reign to set to rights. The Duke of Cumberland has taken
Lord Sandwich's, in Pall-mall; Lord Chesterfield has offered his
house to Princess Emily; and if they live at Hampton-court, as I
suppose his court will, I may as well offer Strawberry for a
royal nursery; for at best it will become a cakehouse; 'tis such
a convenient airing for the maids of honour. If I was not forced
in conscience to own to you, that my own curiosity is exhausted,
I would ask you, if you would not come and look at this new
world; but a new world only reacted by old players is not much
worth seeing; I shall return on Saturday. The Parliament is
prorogued till the day it was to have met; the will is not
opened; what can I tell you more? Would it be news that all is
hopes and fears, and that great lords look as if they dreaded
wanting bread? would this be news? believe me, it all grows
stale soon. I had not seen such a sight these three-and-thirty
years: I came eagerly to town; I laughed for three days-. I am
tired already. Good night!

P. S. I smiled to myself last night. Out of excess of attention,
which costs me nothing, when I mean it should cost nobody else
any thing, I went last night to Kensington to inquire after
Princess Emily and Lady Yarmouth: nobody knew me, they asked my
name. When they heard it, they did not seem ever to have heard
it before, even in that house. I waited half an hour in a lodge
with a footman of Lady Yarmouth's; I would not have waited so
long in her room a week ago; now it only diverted me. Even
moralizing is entertaining, when one laughs at the same time; but
I pity those who don't moralize till they cry.

Letter 52 To Sir Horace Mann.

Arlington Street, Oct. 28, 1760. (page 98)

The deaths of kings travel so much faster than any post, that I
cannot expect to tell you news, when I say your old master is
dead. But I can pretty well tell you what I like best to be
able to say to you on this occasion, that you are in no danger.
Change Will scarce reach to Florence when its hand is checked
even in the capital. But I will move a little regularly, and
then you will form your judgment more easily--This is Tuesday;
on Friday night the King went to bed in perfect health, and
rose so the next morning at his usual hour of six; he called
for and drank his chocolate. At seven, for every thing with
him was exact and periodic, he went into the closet to dismiss
his chocolate. Coming from thence, his valet de chambre heard
a noise; waited a moment, and heard something like a groan. He
ran in, and in a small room between the closet and bedchamber
he found the King on the floor, who had cut the right side of
his face against the edge of a bureau, and who after a gasp
expired. Lady Yarmouth was called, and sent for Princess
Amelia; but they only told the latter that the King was ill and
wanted her. She had been confined for some days with a
rheumatism, but hurried down, ran into the room without farther
notice, and saw her father extended on the bed. She is very
purblind, and more than a little deaf They had not closed his
eyes: she bent down close to his face, and concluded he spoke
to her, though she could not hear him-guess what a shock when
she found the truth. She wrote to the Prince of Wales--but so
had one of the valets de chambre first. He came to town and
saw the Duke(113) and the privy council. He was extremely kind
to the first--and in general has behaved with the greatest
propriety, dignity, and decency. He read his speech to the
council with much grace, and dismissed the guards on himself to
wait on his grandfather's body. It is intimated, that he means
to employ the same ministers, but with reserve to himself of
more authority than has lately been in fashion. The Duke of
York and Lord Bute are named of the cabinet council. The late
King's will is not yet opened. To-day every body kissed hands
at Leicester-house, and this week, I believe, the King will go
to St. James's. The body has been opened; the great ventricle
of the heart had burst. What an enviable death! In the
greatest period of glory of this country, and of his reign, in
perfect tranquillity at home, at seventy-seven, growing blind
and deaf, to die without a pang, before any reverse of fortune,
or any distasted peace, nay, but two days before a ship load of
bad news: could he have chosen such another moment? The news is
bad indeed! Berlin taken by capitulation, and yet the Austrians
behaved so savagely that even the Russians(114) felt delicacy,
were shocked, and checked them! Nearer home, the hereditary
Prince(115) has been much beaten by Monsieur de Castries, and
forced to raise the siege of Wesel, whither Prince Ferdinand
had Sent him most unadvisedly: we have scarce an officer
unwounded. The secret expedition will now, I conclude, sail,
to give an `eclat to the new reign. Lord Albemarle does not
command it, as I told you, nor Mr. Conway, though both applied.

Nothing is settled about the Parliament; not even the necessary
changes in the household. Committees of council are regulating
the mourning and the funeral. The town, which between armies,
militia, and approaching elections, was likely to be a desert
all the winter, is filled in a minute, but every thing is in
the deepest tranquility. People stare; the only expression.
The moment any thing is declared, one shall not perceive the
novelty of the reign. A nation without parties is soon a
nation without curiosity. You may now judge how little your
situation is likely to be affected. I finish; I think I feel
ashamed of tapping the events of a new reign, of which probably
I shall not see half. If I was not unwilling to balk your
curiosity, I should break my pen, as the great officers do
their white wands, over the grave of the old King. Adieu!

(113) William Duke of Cumberland.

(114) The Russians and Austrians obtained possession of Berlin,
while Frederick was employed in watching the great Austrian
army. They were, however, soon driven from it.-D.

(115) Of Brunswick; afterwards the celebrated duke of that

Letter 53 To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street, Oct. 31, 1760. (page 99)

When you have changed the cipher of George the Second into that
of George the Third. and have read the addresses, and have
shifted a few lords and grooms of the bedchamber, you are master
of the history of the new reign, which is indeed but a new lease
of the old one. The favourite took it up in a
high style; but having, like my Lord Granville, forgot to ensure
either house of Parliament, or the mob, the third house of
Parliament, he drove all the rest to unite. They have united,
and have notified their resolution of governing as
before: not but the Duke of Newcastle cried for his old
master, desponded for himself, protested he would retire,
consulted every body whose interest it was to advise him to stay,
and has accepted to-day, thrusting the dregs of his ridiculous
life into a young court, which will at least be saved from the
imputation of childishness, by being governed by folly of seventy
years growth.

The young King has all the appearance of being amiable. There is
great grace to temper much dignity and extreme good-nature, which
breaks out on all occasions. Even the household is not settled
yet. The greatest difficulty is the master of the horse. Lord
Huntingdon is so by all precedent; Lord Gower, I believe, will be
so. Poor Lord Rochford is undone - nobody is unreasonable to
save him. The Duke of Cumberland has taken Schomberg-house in
Pall-mall; Princess Emily is dealing for Sir Richard Lyttelton's
in Cavendish-square. People imagined the Duke of Devonshire had
lent her Burlington-house; I don't know why, unless they supposed
she was to succeed my Lady Burlington in every thing.

A week has finished my curiosity fully; I return to Strawberry
to-morrow, and I fear go next week to Houghton, to make an
appearance of civility to Lynn, whose favour I never asked, nor
care if I have or not; but I don't know how to refuse this
attention to Lord Orford, who begs it.

I trust you will have approved my behaviour at court, that is, my
mixing extreme politeness with extreme indifference. Our
predecessors, the philosophers of ancient days, knew not how to
be disinterested without brutality; I pique myself on founding a
new sect. My followers are to tell kings, with excess of
attention, that they don't want them, and to despise favour with
more good breeding than others practise in suing for it. We are
a thousand times a greater nation than the Grecians: why are we
to imitate them! Our sense is as great, our follies greater; sure
we have all the pretensions to superiority! Adieu!

P. S. As to the fair widow Brown, I assure you the devil never
sowed two hundred thousand pounds in a more fruitful soil: every
guinea has taken root already. I saw her yesterday; it shall be
some time before I see her again.

Letter 54 To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street, Nov. 4, 1760. (page 100)

I am not gone to Houghton, you see: my Lord Orford is come to
town, and I have persuaded him to stay and perform decencies.
King George the Second is dead richer than Sir Robert Brown,
though perhaps not so rich as my Lord Hardwicke. He has left
fifty thousand pounds between the Duke, Emily, and Mary; the Duke
has given up his share. To Lady Yarmouth a cabinet, with the
contents; they call it eleven thousand pounds. By a German deed,
he gives the Duke to the value of one hundred and eighty thousand
pounds, placed on mortgages, not immediately recoverable. e had
once given him twice as much more, then revoked it, and at last
excused the revocation, on the pretence of the expenses of the
war; but owns he was the best son that ever lived, and had never
offended him; a pretty strong comment on the affair of
Closterseven! He gives him, besides, all his jewels in England;
but had removed all the best to Hanover, which he makes crown
jewels, and his successor residuary legatee. The Duke, too, has
some uncounted cabinets. My Lady Suffolk has given me a
particular of his jewels, which plainly amount to one hundred and
fifty thousand pounds. It happened oddly to my Lady Suffolk.
Two days before he died, she went to make a visit at Kensington,
not knowing of the review; she found herself hemmed in by
coaches, and was close to him, whom she had not seen for so many
years, and to my Lady Yarmouth; but they did not know her: it
struck her, and has made her very sensible to his death.
The changes hang back. Nothing material has been altered yet.

Ned Finch, the only thing my Lady Yarmouth told the new King she
had to ask for, is made surveyor of the roads, in the room of Sir
Harry Erskine, who is to have an old regiment. He excuses
himself from seeing company, as favourite of the favourite.
Arthur is removed from being clerk of the wine-cellar, a
sacrifice to morality The Archbishop has such hopes of the young
King, that he is never out of the circle. He trod upon the
Duke's foot on Sunday, in the haste of his zeal; the Duke said to
him, "My lord, if your grace is in such a hurry to make your
court, that is the way." Bon-mots come thicker than changes.
Charles Townshend, receiving an account of the impression the
King's death had made, was told Miss Chudleigh cried. "What,"
said he, "Oysters?" And last night, Mr. Dauncey, asking George
Selwyn if Princess Amelia would have a guard? he replied, "Now
and then one, I suppose."

An extraordinary event has happened to-day; George Townshend sent
a challenge to Lord Albemarle, desiring him to be with a second
in the fields. Lord Albemarle took Colonel Crawford, and went to
Mary-le-bone; George Townshend bespoke Lord Buckingham, who loves
a secret too well not to tell it: he communicated it to Stanley,
who went to St. James's, and acquainted Mr. Caswall, the captain
on guard. The latter took a hackney-coach, drove to
Mary-le-bone, and saw one pair. After waiting ten minutes, the
others came; Townshend made an apology to Lord Albemarle for
making him wait. "Oh," said he, "men of spirit don't want
apologies: come, let us begin what we came for." At that
instant, out steps Caswall from his coach, and begs their pardon,
as his superior officers, but told them they were his prisoners.
He desired Mr. Townshend and Lord Buckingham to return to their
coach; he would carry back Lord Albemarle and Crawford in his.
He did, and went to acquaint the King, who has commissioned some
of the matrons of the army to examine the affair, and make it up.
All this while, I don't know what the quarrel was, but they hated
one another so much on the Duke's account, that a slight word
would easily make their aversions boil over. Don't you, nor even
your general come to town on this occasion? Good night.

Letter 55 To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street, Nov. 13, 1760. (page 102)

Even the honeymoon of a new reign don't produce events every day.
There is nothing but the common Paying of addresses and kissing
hands. The chief difficulty is settled; Lord Gower yields the
mastership of the horse to Lord Huntingdon, and removes to the
great wardrobe, from whence Sir Thomas Robinson was to have gone
into Ellis's place, but he is saved. The city, however, have a
mind to be out of humour; a paper has been fixed on the Royal
Exchange, with these words, "No petticoat government, no Scotch
minister, no Lord George Sackville;" two hints totally unfounded,
and the other scarce true. No petticoat ever governed less, it
is left at Leicester-house; Lord George's breeches are as little
concerned; and, except Lady Susan Stuart and Sir Harry Erskine,
nothing has yet been done for any Scots. For the King himself,
he seems all good-nature, and wishing to satisfy every body; all
his speeches are obliging. I saw him again yesterday, and was
surprised to find the levee-room had lost so entirely the air of
the lion's den. This sovereign don't stand in one spot, with his
eyes fixed royally on the ground, and dropping bits of German
news; he walks about, and speaks to every body- I saw him
afterwards on the throne, where he is graceful and genteel, sits
with dignity, and reads his answers to addresses well; it was the
Cambridge address, carried by the Duke of Newcastle in his
doctor's gown, and looking like the M`edecin malgr`e lui. He had
been vehemently solicitous for attendance, for fear my Lord
Westmoreland, who vouchsafes himself to bring the address from
Oxford, should outnumber him. Lord Litchfield and several other
Jacobites have kissed hands; George Selwyn says, "They go to St.
James's, because now there are so many Stuarts there."

Do you know, I had the curiosity to go to the burying t'other
night; I had never seen a royal funeral; nay, I walked as a rag
of quality, which I found would be, and so it was, the easiest
way of seeing it. It is absolutely a noble sight. The Prince's
chamber, hung with purple, and a quantity of silver lamps, the
coffin under a canopy of purple velvet, and six vast chandeliers
of silver on high stands, had a very good effect. The ambassador
from Tripoli and his son were carried to see that chamber. The
procession through a line of foot-guards, every seventh man
bearing a torch, the horse-guards lining the outside, their
officers with drawn sabres and crape sashes on horseback, the
drums muffled, the fifes, bells tolling, and minute guns,--all
this was very solemn. But the charm was the entrance of the
abbey, where we were received by the dean and chapter in rich
robes, the choir and almsmen bearing torches; the whole abbey so
illuminated, that one saw it to greater advantage than by day;
the tombs, long aisles, and fretted roof, all appearing
distinctly, and with the happiest chiaro scuro. There wanted
nothing but incense, and little chapels here and there, with
priests saying mass for the repose of the defunct; yet one could
not complain of its not being Catholic enough. I had been in
dread of' being coupled with some boy of ten years old; but the
heralds were not very accurate, and I walked with George
Grenville, taller and older, to keep me in countenance. When we
came to the chapel of Henry the Seventh, all solemnity and
decorum ceased; no order was observed, people sat or stood where
they could or would; the yeomen of the guard were crying out for
help, oppressed by the immense weight of the coffin; the bishop
read sadly, and blundered in the prayers; the fine chapter, Man
that is born of a woman, was chanted, not read; and the anthem,
besides being immeasurably tedious, would have served as well for
a nuptial. The real serious part was the figure of the Duke of
Cumberland, heightened by a thousand melancholy circumstances.
He had a dark brown adonis, and a cloak of black cloth, with a
train of five yards. Attending the funeral of a father could not
be pleasant: his leg extremely bad, yet forced to stand upon it
near two hours; his face bloated and distorted with his late
paralytic stroke, which has affected, too, one of his eyes, and
placed over the mouth of the vault, into which, in all
probability, he must himself so soon descend; think how
unpleasant a situation! he bore it all with a firm and
unaffected countenance. This grave scene was fully contrasted by
the burlesque Duke of Newcastle. He fell into a fit of crying
the moment he came into the chapel, and flung himself back in a
stall, the archbishop hovering over him with a smelling-bottle;
but in two minutes his curiosity got the better of his hypocrisy,
and he ran about the chapel with his glass to spy who was or was
not there, spying with one hand, and mopping his eyes with the
other. Then returned the fear of catching cold; and the Duke of
Cumberland, who was sinking with heat, felt himself weighed down,
and turning round, found it was the Duke of Newcastle standing
upon his train, to avoid the chill of the marble. It was very
theatric to look down into the vault, where the coffin lay,
attended by mourners with lights. Clavering, the groom of the
bedchamber, refused to sit up with the body, and was dismissed by
the King's order.

I have nothing more to tell you, but a trifle, a very trifle.
The King of Prussia has totally defeated Marshal Daun.(116)
This, which would have been prodigious news a month ago, is
nothing to-day; it only takes its turn among the questions, "Who
is to be groom of the bedchamber? what is Sir T. Robinson to
have?" I have been to Leicester-fields to-day; the crowd was
immoderate; I don't believe it will continue so. good night.
Yours ever.

(116) At Torgau, on the 3d of November. An animated description
of this desperate battle is given by Walpole in his Memoires,
vol. ii. p. 449.-E.

Letter 56 To George Montagu, Esq.
Arlington Street, Thursday, 1760. (page 104)

As a codicil to my letter, I send you the bedchamber. There are
to be eighteen lords, and thirteen grooms; all the late King's
remain, but your cousin Manchester, Lord Falconberg, Lord Essex,
and Lord Flyndford, replaced by the Duke of Richmond, Lord
Weymouth, Lord March, and Lord Eglinton: the last at the request
of the Duke of York. Instead of Clavering, Nassau, and General
Campbell, who is promised something else, Lord Northampton's
brother and Commodore Keppel are grooms. When it was offered to
the Duke of Richmond, he said he could not accept it, unless
something was done for Colonel Keppel, for whom he has interested
himself; that it would look like sacrificing Keppel to his own
views. This is handsome; Keppel is to be equery.

Princess Amelia goes every where, as she calls it; she was on
Monday at Lady Holderness's, and next Monday is to be at
Bedford-house; but there is only the late King's set, and the
court of Bedford so she makes the houses of other people as
triste as St. James's was. Good night.

Not a word more of the King of Prussia: did you ever know a
victory mind the wind so?

Letter 57 To George Montagu, Esq.
Strawberry Hill, Monday, Nov. 24, 1760. (page 104)

Unless I were to send you journals, lists, catalogues,
computations of the bodies, tides, swarms of people that go to
court to present addresses, or to be presented, I can tell you
nothing new. The day the King went to the House, I was three
quarters of an hour getting through Whitehall; there were
subjects enough to set up half-a-dozen petty kings: the Pretender
would be proud to reign over the footmen only; and, indeed,
unless he acquires some of them, he will have no subjects left;
all their masters flock to St. James's. The palace is so
thronged, that I will stay tilt some people are discontented.
The first night the King went to the play, which was civilly on a
Friday, not on the opera-night, as he used to do, the whole
audience sung God save the King in chorus. For the first act,
the press was so great at the door, that no ladies could go to
the boxes, and only the servants appeared there, who kept places:
at the end of the second act, the whole mob broke in, and seated
themselves; yet all this zeal is not likely to last, though he so
well deserves it. Seditious papers are again stuck up: one
t'other day in Westminster Hall declared against a Saxe-Gothan
Princess. The Archbishop, who is never out of the drawing-room,
has great hopes from the King's goodness, that he shall make
something of him, that is something bad of him. On the Address,
Pitt and his zany Beckford quarrelled, on the latter's calling
the campaign languid. What is become of our magnanimous ally and
his victory, I know not. It) eleven days, no courier has arrived
from him; but I have been these two days perfectly indifferent
about his magnanimity. I am come to put my Anecdotes of Painting
into the press. You are one of the few that I expect will be
entertained with it. It has warmed Gray's coldness so much, that
he is violent about it; in truth, there is an infinite quantity
of new and curious things about it; but as it is quite foreign
from all popular topics, I don't suppose it will be much attended
to. There is not a word of Methodism in it, it says nothing of
the disturbances in Ireland, it does not propose to keep all
Canada, it neither flattered the King of Prussia nor Prince
Ferdinand, it does not say that the city of London are the wisest
men in the world, it is silent about George Townshend, and does
not abuse my Lord George Sackville; how should it please? I want
you to help me in a little affair, that regards it. I have found
in a MS. that in the church of Beckley, or Becksley, in Sussex,
there are portraits on glass, In a window, of Henry the Third and
his Queen. I have looked in the map, and find the first name
between Bodiham and Rye, but I am not sure it is the place. I
will be much obliged to you if you will write directly to your
Sir Whistler, and beg him to inform himself very exactly if there
is any such thing in such a church near Bodiham. Pray state it
minutely; because if there is, I will have them drawn for the
frontispiece to my work.

Did I tell you that the Archbishop tried to hinder the "Minor"
from being played at Drury Lane? for once the Duke of Devonshire
was firm, and would only let him correct some passages, and even
of those the Duke has restored some. One that the prelate
effaced was, "You snub-nosed son of a bitch." Foote says, he
will take out a license to preach Tam. Cant, against Tom.

The first volume of Voltaire's Peter the Great is arrived. I
weep over it. It is as languid as the campaign; he is grown old.
He boasts of the materials communicated to him by the Czarina's
order--but alas! he need not be proud of them. They only serve
to show how much worse he writes history with materials than
without. Besides, it is evident how much that authority has
cramped his genius. I had heard before, that when he sent the
work to Petersburgh for imperial approbation, it was returned
with orders to increase the panegyric. I wish he had acted like
a very inferior author. Knyphausen once hinted to me, that I

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