The Letters of Horace Walpole, Earl of Orford Volume III Part 64

The trouble your ladys.h.i.+p has given yourself so immediately, makes me, as I always am, ashamed of putting you to any. There is no persuading you to oblige moderately. Do you know, Madam, that I shall tremble to deliver the letters you have been so good as to send me? If you have said half so much of me, as you are, so partial as to think of me, I shall be undone. Limited as I know myself, and hampered in bad French, how shall I keep up to any character at all? Madame d'Aiguillon and Madame Geoffrin will never believe that I am the true messenger, but will conclude that I have picked Mr. Walpole's portmanteau's pocket.

I wish only to present myself to them as one devoted to your ladys.h.i.+p; that character I am sure I can support in any language, and it is the one to which they would pay the most regard. Well!

I don't care, Madam-it is your reputation that is at stake more than mine; and, if they find me a simpleton that don't know how to express myself, it will all fall upon you at last.' If your ladys.h.i.+p will risk that, I will, if you please, thank you for a letter to Madame d'Egmont, too: I long to know your friends, though at the hazard of their knowing yours. Would I were a jolly old man, to match, at least, in that respect, your jolly old woman!(859)--But, alas! I am nothing but a poor worn-out rag, and fear, when I come to Paris, that I shall be forced to pretend that I have had the gout in my understanding. My spirits, such as they are, will not bear translating; and I don't know whether I shall not find it the wisest part I can take to fling myself into geometry, or commerce, or agriculture, which the French now esteem, don't understand, and think we do. They took George Selwyn for a poet, and a judge of planting and dancing-. why may I not pa.s.s for a learned man and a philosopher? If the worst comes to the worst, I will admire Clarissa and Sir Charles Grandison; and declare I have not a friend in the world that is not like my Lord Edward Bomston, though I never knew a character like it in my days, and hope I never shall; nor do I think Rousseau need to have gone so far out of his way to paint a disagreeable Englishman.

If you think, Madam, this sally is not very favourable to the country I am going to, recollect, that all I object to them is their quitting their own agreeable style, to take up the worst of ours. Heaven knows, we are unpleasing enough; but, in the first place, they don't understand us; and in the next, if they did, so much the worse for them. What have they gained by leaving Moli'ere, Boileau, Corneille, Racine, La Rochefucault, Crebillon, Marivaux, Voltaire, etc.? No nation can be another nation. We have been clumsily copying them for these hundred years, and are not we grown wonderfully like them? Come, madam, you like what I like of them? I am going thither, and you have no aversion to going thither--but own the truth; had not we both rather go thither fourscore years ago? Had you rather be acquainted with the charming madame Scarron, or the canting Madame de Maintenon?

with Louis XIV. when the Montespan governed him, or when P'ere le Tellier? I am very glad when folks go to heaven, though it is after another body's fas.h.i.+on; but I 'wish to converse with them when they are themselves. I abominate a conqueror; but I do not think he makes the world much compensation, by cutting the throats of his Protestant subjects to atone for the ma.s.sacres caused by his ambition.

The result of all this dissertation, Madam--for I don't know how to call it a letter--is, that I shall look for Paris in the midst of Paris, and shall think more of the French that have been than the French that are, except of a few of your friends and mine.

Those I know, I admire and honour, and I am sure I will trust to your ladys.h.i.+p's taste for the others; and if they had no other merit, I can but like those that will talk to me of you. They will find more sentiment in me on that chapter, than they can miss parts; and I flatter myself that the one will atone for the other.

(859) la d.u.c.h.esse Douairi'ere d'Aiguillon, n'ee Chabot, mother of the Duc d'Aiguillon, who succeeded the Duc de Choiseul as minister for foreign affairs. She was a correspondent of Lady Hervey's. In a letter to Walpole, of the 20th of November 1766, madame du Deffand says:--"Je soupai Iiier chez Madame d'Aiguillon: elle nous lut la traduction de la Lettre d'H'eloyse de Pope, et d'un chant du po'eme de Salomon, de Prior; elle 'ecrit admirablement bien; j'en 'etais r'eellement dans l'enthousiasme: dites-le 'a Milady Hervey." She died in 1772.-E.

Letter 266 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Strawberry Hill, Sept. 5, 1765. (page 420)

Dear sir, You cannot think how agreeable your letter was to me, and how luckily it was timed. I thought you in Ches.h.i.+re, and did not know how to direct; I now sit down to answer it instantly.

I have been extremely ill indeed with the gout all over; in head, stomach, both feet, both wrists, and both shoulders. I kept my bed a fortnight in the most sultry part of this summer; and for nine weeks could not say I was recovered. Though I am still weak, and very soon tired with the least walk, I am in other respects quite well. However, to promote my entire reestablishment, I shall set out for Paris next Monday. Thus your letter came luckily. To hear you talk of going thither, too, made it most agreeable. Why should you not advance your journey? Why defer it till the winter is coming on? It would make me quite happy to visit churches and convents with you: but they are not comfortable in cold weather. Do, I beseech you, follow me as soon as possible. The thought of your being there at the same time makes me much more pleased with my journey; you will not, I hope, like it the less; and, if our meeting there should tempt you to stay longer, it will make me still more happy.

If, in the mean time, I can be of any use to you, I shall be glad either in taking a lodging for you, Or any thing else. Let me know, and direct to me in Arlington-street, whence my servant Will convey it to me. Tell me above all things that you will set out sooner.

If I have any money left when I return, and can find a place for it, I shall be very glad to purchase the ebony cabinet you mention, and will make it a visit with you next summer if you please--but first let us go to Paris. I don't give up my pa.s.sion for ebony; but, since the destruction of the Jesuits, I hear one can pick up so many of their spoils that I am impatient for the opportunity.

I must finish, as I have so much business before I set out; but I must repeat, how lucky the arrival of your letter was, how glad I was to hear of your intended journey, and how much I wish it may take place directly. I will only add that the court goes to Fontainbleau, the last week in September, or first in October, and therefore it is the season in the world for seeing all Versailles quietly, and at one's ease. Adieu! dear sir, yours most cordially.

Letter 267 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.

Amiens, Wednesday, Sept. 11, 1765. (page 421)

Beau Cousin, I have had a very prosperous journey till just at entering this city. I escaped a Prince of Na.s.sau at Dover, and sickness at sea, though the voyage lasted seven hours and a half. I have recovered my strength surprisingly in the time; though almost famished for want of clean victuals, and comfortable tea and bread and b.u.t.ter. half a mile from hence I met a coach and four with an equipage of French, and a lady in pea-green and silver, a smart hat and feather., and two suivantes. My reason told me it was the Archbishop's concubine; but luckily my heart whispered that it was Lady Mary c.o.ke. I Jumped out of my chaise--yes, jumped, as Mrs. Nugent said of herself, fell on my knees, and said my first ave Maria, grati'a plena. We just shot a few politics flying--heard that Madame de Mirepoix had toasted me t'other day in tea--shook hands, forgot to weep, and parted; she to the Hereditary Princess, I to this inn, where is actually resident the d.u.c.h.ess of Douglas. We are not likely to have an intercourse, or I would declare myself' a Hamilton.(860)

I find this country wonderfully enriched since I saw it four-and-twenty years ago. Boulogne is grown quite a plump snug town, with a number Of new houses. The worst villages are tight, and wooden shoes have disappeared. Mr. Pitt and the city of London may fancy what they will, but France will not come a-begging to the Mansion-house this year or two. In truth. I impute this air of opulence a little to ourselves. The crumbs that fall from the chaises of the swarms of English that visit Paris, must have contributed to fatten this province. It is plain I must have little to do when I turn my hand to calculating: but here is my observation. From Boulogne to Paris it will cost me near ten guineas; but then consider, I travel alone, and carry Louis most part of the way in the chaise with me. Nous autres milords Anglais are not often so frugal. Your brother, last year, had ninety-nine English to dinner on the King's birthday. How many of them do you think dropped so little as ten guineas on this road? In short, there are the seeds of a calculation for you, and if you will water them with a torrent of words, they will produce such a dissertation, that you will be able to vie with George Grenville next session in plans of national economy-only be sure not to tax travelling till I come back, loaded with purchases; nor, till then, propagate my ideas.

It will be time enough for me to be thrifty of the nation's money, when I have spent all my own.

Clermont, 12th.

While they are getting my dinner, I continue my journal. The d.u.c.h.ess of Douglas (for English are generally the most extraordinary persons that we meet with even out of England) left Amiens before me, on her way home. You will not guess what she carries with her--Oh! nothing that will hurt our manufactures; nor what George Grenville himself would seize. One of her servants died at Paris: she had him embalmed, and the body is tied before her chaise: a droll way of being chief mourner.

For a French absurdity, I have observed that along the great roads they plant walnut-trees, but strip them up for firing. It is like the owl that bit off the feet of mice, that they might lie still and fatten.

At the foot of this hill is an old-fas.h.i.+oned ch'ateau belonging to the Duke of Fitz-James, with a parc en quincunx and clipped hedges. We saw him walking in his waistcoat and riband, very well powdered; a figure like Guerchy. I cannot say his seat rivals Goodwood or Euston.(861) I shall lie at Chantilly to-night, for I did not Set Out till ten this morning--not because I could not, as you will suspect, get up sooner--but because all the horses in the country have attended the Queen to Nancy.(862) Besides, I have a little Underplot of seeing Chantilly and St. Denis in my way: which you know one could not do in the dark to-night, nor in winter, if I return then.

H'otel de feue Madame l'Amba.s.sadrice d'Angleterre, Sept. 13, seven o'clock.

I am Just arrived. My Lady Hertford is not at home, and Lady Anne(863) will not come out of her burrow: so I have just time to finish this before Madame returns; and Brian sets out to-night and will carry it. I find I shall have a great deal to say: formerly I observed nothing, and now remark every thing minutely.

I have already fallen in love with twenty things, and in hate with forty. Adieu! yours ever.

(860) The memorable cause between the houses of Douglas and Hamilton was then pending.-E.

(861) The Duc de Fitzjames's father, Mareschal Berwick, was a natural son of James II. Mr. Walpole therefore compares his country-seat with those of the Dukes of Richmond and Grafton, similar descendants from his brother, Charles II.-E.

(862) Stanislaus King of Poland, father to the Queen of Louis XV.

lived at Nancy.-E.

(863) Lady Anne Seymour Conway, afterwards married to the Earl of Drogheda.-E.

Letter 268 To the Right Hon. Lady Hervey.

Paris, Sept. 14, 1765. (page 423)

I am but two days old here, Madam, and I doubt I wish I was really so, and had my life to begin, to live it here. You see how just I am, and ready to make amende honorable to your ladys.h.i.+p. Yet I have seen very little. My Lady Hertford has cut me to pieces, and thrown me into a caldron with tailors, periwig-makers, snuff-box-wrights, milliners, etc. which really took up but little time; and I am come out quite new, with every thing but youth. The journey recovered me with magic expedition.

My strength, if mine could ever be called strength, is returned; and the gout going off in a minuet step. I will say nothing of my spirits, which are indecently juvenile, and not less improper for my age than for the country where I am; which, if you will give me leave to say it, has a thought too much gravity. I don't venture to laugh Or talk nonsense, but in English.

Madame Geoffrin came to town but last night, and is not visible on Sundays; but I hope to deliver your ladys.h.i.+p's letter and packet to-morrow. Mesdames d'Aiguillon, d'Egmont, and Chabot, and the Duc de Nivernois are all in the country. Madame de Bouttlers is at l'Isle Adam, whither my Lady Hertford is gone to-night to sup, for the first time, being no longer chained down to the incivility of an amba.s.sadress. She returns after supper; an irregularity that frightens me, who have not got rid of all my barbarisms. There is one, alas! I never shall get over--the dirt of this country: it is melancholy, after the purity of Strawberry! The narrowness of the streets, trees clipped to resemble brooms, and planted on pedestals of chalk, and a few other points, do not edify me. The French Opera, which I have heard to-night, disgusted me as much as ever; and the more for being followed by the Devin de Village, which shows that they can sing without cracking the drum of one's ear. The scenes and dances are delightful; the Italian comedy charming. Then I am in love with treillage and fountains, and will prove it at Strawberry. Chantilly is so exactly what it was when I saw it above twenty years ago, that I recollected the very position of Monsieur le Duc's chair and the gallery. The latter gave me the first idea of mine; but, presumption apart, mine is a thousand times prettier. I gave my Lord Herbert's compliments to the statue of his friend the Constable -,(864) and, waiting some time for the concierge, I called out, O'u est Vatel?(865)

In short, Madam, being as tired as one can be of one's own country,--I don't say whether that is much or little,--I find myself wonderfully disposed to like this. Indeed I wish I Could wash it. Madame de Guerchy is all goodness to me; but that is not new. I have already been prevented by great civilities from Madame de Bentheim and my old friend Madame de Mirepoix; but am not likely to see the latter much, who is grown a most particular favourite of the King, and seldom from him. The Dauphin is ill, and thought in a very bad way. I hope he will live, lest the theatres should be shut up. Your ladys.h.i.+p knows I never trouble my head about royalties, farther than it affects my own interest.

In truth, the way that princes affect my interest is not the common way.

I have not yet tapped the chapter of baubles, being desirous of making my revenues maintain me here as long as possible, It will be time enough to return to my Parliament when I want money.

Mr. Hume that is the Mode,(866) asked much about your ladys.h.i.+p.

I have seen Madame de Monaco(867) and think her very handsome, and extremely pleasing. The younger Madame d'Egmont,(868) I hear, disputes the palm with her: and Madame de Brionne(869) is not left without partisans. The nymphs of the theatres are laides 'a faire peur which at my age is a piece of luck, like going into a shop of curiosities, and finding nothing to tempt one to throw away one's money.

There are several English here, whether I will or not. I certainly did not come for them, and shall connect with them as little as possible. The few I value, I hope sometimes to hear of. Your ladys.h.i.+p guesses how far that wish extends. Consider too, Madam, that one of my unworthinesses is washed and done away, by the confession I made in the beginning of my letter.

(864) The Constable de Montmorency.-E.

(865) The ma'itre-d'h'otel, who, during the visit which Louis XIV. made to the grand Cond'e at Chantilly, put an end to his existence, because he feared the sea-fish would not arrive in time for one day's repast.

(866) "Hume's conversation to strangers," says Lord Charlemont, "and still more particularly, one would suppose, to French women, could be little delightful; and yet no lady's toilette was complete without his attendance. At the Opera, his broad, unmeaning face was usually seen entre deux jolis minois: the ladies in France gave the ton, and the ton was deism."-E.

(867) Madame de Monaco, afterwards Princess de Cond'e.-E.

(868) Daughter of the celebrated Marshal Duc de Richelieu. See vol. iii. p. 358, letter 233, note 710. She was one of the handsomest women in France.-E.

(869) Madame de Brionne, n'ee Rohan Rochefort, wife of M. de Brionne of the house of Lorraine, and mother of the Prince de Lambesc; known by his imprudent conduct at the head of his regiment in the garden of the Tuileries, at the commencement of the revolution.-E.

Letter 269 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Paris, Wednesday, Sept. 18, 1765. (page 424)

Dear sir, I have this moment received your letter, and as a courier is just setting out, I had rather take the opportunity of writing to you a short letter than defer it for a longer.