The Letters of Horace Walpole, Earl of Orford Volume IV Part 49

Your cherries, for aught I know, may, like Mr. Pitt, be half ripe before others are in blossom; but at Twickenham, I am sure, I could find dates and pomegranates on the quickset hedges, as soon as a cherry in swaddling-clothes on my walls. The very leaves on the horse-chestnuts are little snotty-nosed things, that cry and are afraid of the north-wind, and cling to the bough as if old poker was coming to take them away. For my part, I have seen nothing like spring but a chimney-sweeper's garland; and yet I have been three days in the country-and the consequence was, that I was glad to come back to town. I do not wonder that you feel differently; any thing is warmth and verdure when compared to poring over memorials. In truth, I think you will be much happier for being out of Parliament. You could do no good there; you have no views of ambition to satisfy: and when neither duty.

nor ambition calls, (I do not condescend to name avarice, which never is to be satisfied, nor deserves to be reasoned with, nor has any place in your breast,) I cannot conceive what satisfaction an elderly man can have in listening to the pa.s.sions or follies of others: nor is eloquence such a banquet, when one knows that, whoever the cooks are, whatever the sauces, one has eaten as good beef or mutton before, and perhaps, as well dressed. It is surely time to live for one's self, when one has not a vast while to live; and you, I am persuaded, Will live the longer for leading a country life. How much better to be planting, nay, making experiments on smoke (if not too dear), than reading applications from officers, a quarter of whom you could not serve, nor content three quarters! You had not time for necessary exercise : and, I believe, would have blinded yourself.

In short, if you will live in the air all day, be totally idle, and not read or write a line by candle-light, and retrench your suppers, I shall rejoice in your having nothing to do but that dreadful punishment, pleasing yourself. n.o.body has any claims on you; you have satisfied every point of honour; you have no cause for being particularly grateful to the Opposition; and you want no excuse for living for yourself. Your resolutions on economy are not only prudent, but just; and, to say the truth, I believe if you had continued at the head of the army, you would have ruined yourself You have too much generosity to have curbed yourself, and would have had too little time to attend to doing so. I know by myself how pleasant it is to have laid up a little for those I love, for those that depend on me, and for old servants. Moderate wishes may be satisfied; and which is still better, are less liable to disappointment.

I am not preaching, nor giving advice, but congratulating you it is certainly not being selfish, when I rejoice at your being thrown by circ.u.mstances into a retired life, though it will occasion my seeing less of you; but I have always preferred what was most for your own honour and happiness; and as you taste satisfaction already, it will not diminish, for they are the first moments of pa.s.sing from busy life to a quiet one that are the most irksome. You have the felicity of being able to amuse yourself with what the grave world calls trifles , but as gravity does not happen to be wisdom, trifles are full as important as what is respected as serious; and more amiable, and generally more innocent. Most men are bad or ridiculous, sometimes both: at least my experience tells me what my reading had told me before, that they are so in a great capital of a sinking 'country. If immortal fame is his object, a Cato may die but he will do no good. If only the preservation of his virtue had been his point, he might have lived comfortably at Athens, like Attieus who, by the way, happens to be as immortal; though I will give him credit for having had no such view.

Indeed, I look upon this country as so irrecoverably on the verge of ruin, from its enormous debt, from the loss of America, from the almost as certain prospect of losing India, that my pride would dislike to be an actor when the crash may happen.

You seem to think that I might send you more news. So I might, if I would talk of elections;(516) but those, you know, I hate, as, in general, I do all details. How Mr. Fox has recovered such a majority I do not guess, still less do I comprehend how there could be so many that had not voted, after the poll had lasted so long.(517) Indeed, I should be sorry to understand such mysteries.-Of new peers, or new elevations I hear every day, but am quite ignorant which are to be true. Rumour always creates as many as the King, when he makes several. In fact, I do know nothing. Adieu!

P. S. The summer is come to town, but I hope is gone into the country too.

(516) The Parliament had been dissolved in March, and a new one was summoned to meet on the 18th of May.-E.

(517) Mr. Pitt says in a letter to Mr. Wilberforce, of the 8th of April, "Westminster goes on well, in spite of the d.u.c.h.ess of Devons.h.i.+re and the other women of the people; but when the poll will close is uncertain." At the close of it, on the 17th of May, the numbers were, for Hood 6694, Fox 6233, Wray 5998.

Walpole, whose delicate health at this time confined him almost entirely to his house, went in a sedan-chair to give his vote for Mr. Fox. "Apropos of elections," writes Hannah More to her sister," I had like to have got into a fine sc.r.a.pe the other night. I was going to pa.s.s the evening at Mrs. Cole's, in Lincoln's-inn Fields. I went in a chair: they carried me through Covent-Garden: a number of people, as I went along, desired the men not to go through the Garden, as there were a hundred armed men, who, suspecting every chairman belonged to Brookes's, would fall upon us. In spite of my entreaties, the men would have persisted; but a stranger, out of humanity, made them set me down; and the shrieks of the wounded, for there was a terrible battle, intimidated the chairmen, who were at last prevailed upon to carry me another way. A vast number of people followed me, crying out, 'it is Mrs. Fox: none but Mr. Fox's wife would dare to come into Covent-Garden in a chair; she is going to canva.s.s in the dark!' Though not a little frightened, I laughed heartily at this; but shall stir no more in a chair for some time." Memoirs, vol. I. p. 315.-E.

Letter 272 To Miss Hannah More.(519) May 6, 1784 (page 344)

Mr. Walpole thanks Miss More a thousand times, not only for so obligingly complying with his request, but for letting him have the satisfaction of possessing and reading again and again her charming and very genteel poem, the "Bas Bleu." He ought not, in modesty, to commend so much a piece in which he himself is flattered; but truth is more durable than blus.h.i.+ng, and he must be just, though he may be vain. The ingenuity with which she has introduced, so easily, very difficult rhymes, is admirable; and though there is a quant.i.ty of learning, it has all the air Of negligence, instead of that of pedantry. As she, commands him, he will not disobey; and, so far from giving a single copy, he gives her his word that it shall not go out of his hands. He begs his particular compliments to Mrs. Garrick, and is Miss More's most devoted and much obliged humble servant.

(519) Walpole's intimacy with Miss Hannah More commenced in the year 1781. The following pa.s.sages occur in her letters of that and the following year:--"Mr. Walpole has done me the honour of inviting me to Strawberry Hill: as he is said to be a shy man, I must consider this as a great compliment."--" We dined the other day at Strawberry Hill, and pa.s.sed as delightful a day as elegant literature, high breeding, and lively wit can afford. As I was the greatest stranger, Mr. Walpole devoted himself to my amus.e.m.e.nt with great politeness."-E.

Letter 273 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.

Strawberry Hill, May 21, 1784. (page 345)

I am perfectly satisfied with your epitaph,(520) and would not have a Syllable altered. It tells exactly what it means to say, and that truth being an encomium, wants no addition or amplification. Nor do I love late language for modern facts, nor will European tongues perish since printing has been discovered.

I should approve French least of all; it would be a kind of insult to the vanquished: and, besides, the example of a hero should be held out to his countrymen rather than to their enemies. You must take care to have the word caused, in the last line but one, spelt rightly, and not caus'd.

I know nothing of the Parliament but what you saw in the papers.

I came hither yesterday, and am transported, like you, with the beauty of the country; ay, and with its perfumed air too. The lilac-time scents even the insides of the rooms.

I desired Lady Ailesbury to carry you Lord Melcombe's Diary.(521) It is curious indeed; not so much from the secrets it blabs, which are rather characteristic than novel, but from the wonderful folly of the author, who was so fond of talking of himself, that he tells all he knew of himself, though scarce an event that does not betray his profligacy; and (which is still more surprising that he should disclose) almost every one exposes the contempt in which he was held, and his consequential'

disappointments and disgraces! Was ever any man the better for another's experience? What a lesson is here against versatility!

I, who have lived through all the scenes unfolded, am entertained; but I should think that to younger readers half the book must be unintelligible. He explains nothing but the circ.u.mstances of his own situation; and, though he touches on many important periods, he leaves them undeveloped, and often undetermined. It is diverting to hear him rail at Lord Halifax and others, for the very kind of double-dealing which he relates coolly of himself in the next page. Had he gone backwards, he might have given half a dozen volumes of his own life, with similar anecdotes and variations. I am most surprised, that when self-love is the whole groundwork of the performance, there should be little or no attempt at s.h.i.+ning as an author, though he was one. As he had so much wit too, I am amazed that not a feature of it appears. The discussion in the appendix, on the late Prince's question for increase of allowance, is the only part in which there is sense or honesty. There is, in the imperfect account of Rochfort, a strong Circ.u.mstance or two that pleased me much. There are many pa.s.sages that will displease several others throughout.

Mr. c.o.xe's Travels(522) are very different: plain, clear, sensible, instructive, and entertaining. It is a n.o.ble work, and precious to me who delight in quartos: the two volumes contain twelve hundred pages; I have already devoured a quarter, though I have had them but three days. [The rest of this letter is lost.]

(520) An epitaph for the monument erected by the states of Jersey to the memory of Major Pearson, killed in the attack of that island by the French in January 1781.

(521) "The Diary of George Bubb Dodington, Baron of Melcombe Regis, from March 8, 1749, to February 6, 1761; published by Henry Penruddocke Wyndham."

(522) Travels into Poland, Russia, Sweden, and Denmark; interspersed with Historical Relations and Political Inquiries; by William c.o.x, M. A.," in two volumes quarto.-E.

Letter 274 To The Countess Of Ailesbury.

Strawberry Hill, Tuesday night, June 8, 1784. (page 346)

You frightened me for a minute, my dear Madam; but every letter since has given me pleasure, by telling me how rapidly you recovered, and how perfectly well you are again. Pray, however, do not give me any more such Joys. I shall be quite content with your remaining immortal, without the foil of any alarm. You gave all your friends a panic, and may trust their attachment without renewing it. I received as many inquiries the next day as if an archbishop was in danger, and all the bench hoped he was going to heaven.

Mr. Conway wonders I do not talk of Voltaire's Memoirs. Lord bless me! I saw it two months ago; the Lucans brought it from Paris and lent it to me: nay, and I have seen most of it before; and I believe this an imperfect copy, for it ends no how at all.

Besides, it was quite out of my head. Lord Melcombe's Diary put that and every thing else out of my mind. I wonder much more at Mr. Conway's not talking of this! It gossips about the living as familiarly as a modern newspaper. I long to hear what say about it. I wish the newspapers were as accurate! They have been circ.u.mstantial about Lady Walsingham's birthday clothes, which to be sure one is glad to know, Only unluckily there is no such person. However, I dare to say that her dress was very becoming, and that she looked charmingly.

The month of June, according to custom immemorial, is as cold as Christmas. I had a fire last night, and all my rose-buds, I believe, would have been very glad to sit by it. I have other grievances to boot; but as they are annuals too,--videlicet, people to see my house,-- I will not torment Your ladys.h.i.+p with them: yet I know nothing else. None of my neighbours are come into the country yet: one would think all the dowagers were elected into the new Parliament. Adieu, my dear Madam!

Letter 275 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.

Strawberry Hill, June 25, 1784. (page 347)

I can answer you very readily in your own tone, that is, about weather and country grievances, and without one word of news or politics; for I know neither, nor inquire of them.(523) I am very well content to be a Strulbrug, and to exist after I have done being: and I am still better pleased that you are in the same way of thinking, or of not thinking; for I am sure both your health and your mind will find the benefits of living for yourself and family only. It were not fit that the young should concentre themselves in so narrow a circle; nor do the young seem to have any such intention. Let them mend or mar the world as they please; the world takes its own way upon the whole; and, though there may be an uncommon swarm of animalcules for a season, things return into their own channel from their own bias, before any effectual nostrum or fumigation is discovered. In the mean time, I am for giving all due weight to local grievances, though with no natural turn towards attending to them: but they serve for conversation. We have no newly invented grubs to eat our fruit; indeed, I have no fruit to be eaten: but I should not lament if the worms would eat my gardener, who, you know, is so bad an one that I never have any thing in my garden. I am now waiting for dry weather to cut my hay; though nature certainly never intended hay should be cut dry, as it always rains all June. But here is a worse calamity; one is never safe by day or night: Mrs. Walsingham, who has bought your brother's late house at Ditton, was robbed a few days ago in the high road, within a mile of home, at seven in the evening. The di'a nimorum gentium pilfer every thing. Last night they stole a couple of yards of lead off the pediment of the door of my cottage. A gentleman at Putney, who has three men servants, had his house broken open last week, and lost some fine miniatures, which he valued so much that he would not hang them up. You may imagine what a pain this gives me in my baubles! I have been making the round of my fortifications this morning, and ordering new works.

I am concerned for the account you give me of your brother. Life does not appear to be such a jewel as to preserve it carefully for its own sake. I think the same of its good things; if they do not procure amus.e.m.e.nt or comfort, I doubt they only produce the contrary. Yet it is silly to repine; for, probably, whatever any man does by choice, he knows will please him best, or at least will prevent greater uneasiness. I therefore, rather retract my concern; for, with a vast fortune, Lord Hertford might certainly do what he would: and if, at his age, he can wish for more than that fortune will obtain, I may pity his taste or temper; but I shall think that you and I are much happier who can find enjoyments in an humbler sphere, nor envy those who have no time for trifling'. I, who have never done any thing else, am not at all weary of my occupation. Even three days of continued rain have not put me out of humour or spirits. C'est beaucoup dire for an Anglais. Adieu! Yours ever.

(523) "As politics spoil all conversation, Mr. Walpole, the other night, proposed that every body should forfeit half a crown who said any thing tending to introduce the idea, either of ministers or opposition. I added, that whoever mentioned pit-coal or a fox-skin m.u.f.f, should be considered as guilty; and it was accordingly voted." Hannah More, March 8, 1784.-E.

Letter 276 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.

Strawberry Hill, June 30, 1784. (page 348)

Instead of coming to you, I Am thinking of packing up and going to town for winter, so desperate is the weather! I found a great fire at Mrs. Clive's this evening, and Mr. Rafter hanging over it like a smoked ham. They tell me my hay will be spoiled for want of cutting; but I had rather it should be destroyed by standing than by being mowed, as the former will cost me nothing but the crop, and 'tis very dear to make nothing but a water-souchy of it.

You know I have lost a niece, and found another nephew: he makes the fifty-fourth reckoning both s.e.xes. We are certainly an affectionate family, for of late we do nothing but marry one another. Have not You felt a little twinge in a remote corner of your heart on Lady Harrington's death?(524) She dreaded death so extremely that I am glad she had not a moment to be sensible of it. I have a great affection for sudden deaths; they save oneself and every body else a deal of ceremony.

The Duke and d.u.c.h.ess of Marlborough breakfasted here on Monday, and seemed much pleased, though it rained the whole time with an Egyptian darkness. I should have thought there had been deluges enough to destroy all Egypt's other plagues: but the newspapers talk of locusts: I suppose relations of your beetles, though probably not so fond of green fruit; for the scene of their campaign is Queen square, Westminster, where there certainly has not been an orchard since the reign of Canute.

I have, at last, seen an air-balloon; just as I once did see a tiny review, by pa.s.sing one accidentally on Hounslow-heath. I was going last night to Lady Onslow at Richmond, and over Mr.

Cambridge's field I saw a bundle in the air not bigger than the moon,(525) and she herself could not have descended with more composure if she had expected to find Endymion fast asleep. It seemed to 'light on Richmond-hill; but Mrs. Hobart was going by, and her coiffure prevented my seeing it alight. The papers say, that a balloon has been made at Paris representing the castle of Stockholm, in compliment to the King of Sweden; but that they are afraid to let it off: so, I suppose, it will be served up to him in a dessert. No great progress.. surely, is made in these airy navigations, if they are still afraid of risking the necks of two or three subjects for the entertainment of a visiting sovereign.

There is seldom a feu de joie for the birth of a Dauphin that does not cost more lives. I thought royalty and science never haggled about the value of blood when experiments are in the question.

I shall wait for summer before I make you a visit. Though I dare to say that you have converted your smoke-kilns into a manufacture of balloons, pray do not erect a Strawberry castle in the air for my reception, if it will cost a pismire a hair of its head. Good night! I have ordered my bed to be heated as hot as an oven, and Tonton and I must go into it.

(524) See vol. i. p. 379, letter 143.-E.(525) "Lunardi's nest,"

says Hannah More, " when I saw it yesterday, looking like a pegtop, seemed, I a.s.sure you, higher than the moon, 'riding towards her highest noon.'"-E.

Letter 277 To The Earl Of Strafford.

Strawberry Hill, August 6, 1784. (page 349)

I am very sorry, my dear lord, that I must answer your lords.h.i.+p's letter by a condolence. I had not the honour Ur of being acquainted with Mrs. Vyse, but have heard so much good of her, that it is impossible not to lament her. Since this month began we have had fine weather; and 'twere great pity if we had not, when the earth is covered with Such abundant harvests! They talk of an earthquake having been felt in London. Had Sir William Hamilton been there, he would think the town gave itself great airs. He, I believe, is putting up volcanos in his own country.

In my youth, philosophers were eager to ascribe every uncommon discovery to the Deluge; now it is the fas.h.i.+on to solve every appearance by conflagrations. If there was such an inundation upon the earth, and such a furnace under it, I am amazed that Noah and company were not boiled to death. Indeed, I am a great sceptic about human reasonings; they predominate only for a time, like other mortal fas.h.i.+ons, and are so often exploded after the mode is pa.s.sed, that I hold them little more serious, though they call themselves wisdom. How many have I lived to see established and confuted! For instance, the necessity of a southern continent as a balance was supposed to be unanswerable; and so it was, till Captain Cook found there was no such thing. We are poor silly animals: we live for an instant upon a particle of a boundless universe, and are much like a b.u.t.terfly that should argue about the nature of the seasons and what creates their vicissitudes, and does not exist itself to see one annual revolution of them!