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Title: Horace Walpole - A memoir
Author: Dobson, Austin
Language: English
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HORACE WALPOLE
_After Rosalba_
HORACE WALPOLE
_A MEMOIR_
WITH AN APPENDIX OF BOOKS PRINTED AT THE STRAWBERRY-HILL PRESS
BY
AUSTIN DOBSON
NEW YORK
DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
_Copyright, 1890_,
BY DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY.
University Press:
JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
The Walpoles of Houghton.--Horace Walpole born, 24
September, 1717.--Lady Louisa Stuart's Story.--Scattered
Facts of his Boyhood.--Minor Anecdotes--'La
belle Jennings.'--The Bugles.--Interview with
George I. before his Death.--Portrait at this time.--Goes
to Eton, 26 April, 1727.--His Studies and Schoolfellows.--The
'Triumvirate,' the 'Quadruple Alliance.'--Entered
at Lincoln's Inn, 27 May, 1731.--Leaves
Eton, September, 1734.--Goes to King's College, Cambridge,
11 March, 1735.--His University Studies.--Letters
from Cambridge.--Verses in the _Gratulatio_.--Verses
in Memory of Henry VI.--Death of Lady Walpole,
20 August, 1737 1
CHAPTER II.
Patent Places under Government.--Starts with Gray on the
Grand Tour, March, 1739.--From Dover to Paris.--Life
at Paris.--Versailles.--The Convent of the Chartreux.--Life
at Rheims.--A _Fête Galante_.--The
Grande Chartreuse.--Starts for Italy.--The tragedy
of Tory.--Turin; Genoa.--Academical Exercises at
Bologna.--Life at Florence.--Rome; Naples: Herculaneum.--The
Pen of Radicofani.--English at Florence.--Lady
Mary Wortley Montagu.--Preparing for Home.--Quarrel
with Gray.--Walpole's Apologia; his Illness,
and return to England. 27
CHAPTER III.
Gains of the Grand Tour.--'Epistle to Ashton.'--Resignation
of Sir Robert Walpole, who becomes Earl of
Orford.--Collapse of the Secret Committee.--Life at
Houghton.--The Picture Gallery.--'A Sermon on
Painting.'--Lord Orford as Moses.--The 'Ædes
Walpolianæ.'--Prior's 'Protogenes and Apelles.'--Minor
Literature.--Lord Orford's Decline and Death;
his Panegyric.--Horace Walpole's Means. 57
CHAPTER IV.
Stage-gossip and Small-talk.--Ranelagh Gardens.--Fontenoy
and Leicester House.--Echoes of the '45.--Preston
Pans.--Culloden.--Trial of the Rebel Lords.--Deaths
of Kilmarnock and Balmerino.--Epilogue
to _Tamerlane_--Walpole and his Relatives.--Lady
Orford.--Literary Efforts.--The Beauties.--Takes a
House at Windsor. 82
CHAPTER V.
The New House at Twickenham.--Its First Tenants.--Christened
'Strawberry Hill.'--Planting and Embellishing.--Fresh
Additions.--Walpole's Description
of it in 1753.--Visitors and Admirers.--Lord Bath's
Verses.--Some Rival Mansions.--Minor Literature.--Robbed
by James Maclean.--Sequel from _The
World_.--The Maclean Mania.--High Life at Vauxhall.--Contributions
to _The World_.--Theodore of
Corsica.--Reconciliation with Gray.--Stimulates his
Works.--The _Poëmata-Grayo-Bentleiana_.--Richard
Bentley.--Müntz the Artist.--Dwellers at Twickenham.--Lady
Suffolk and Mrs. Clive. 107
CHAPTER VI.
Gleanings from the _Short Notes_.--_Letter from Xo Ho._--The
Strawberry Hill Press.--Robinson the Printer.--Gray's
_Odes_.--Other Works.--_Catalogue of Royal
and Noble Authors._--_Anecdotes of Painting._--Humours
of the Press.--_The Parish Register of
Twickenham._--Lady Fanny Shirley.--Fielding.--_The
Castle of Otranto._ 141
CHAPTER VII.
State of French Society in 1765.--Walpole at Paris.--The
Royal Family and the Bête du Gévaudan.--French
Ladies of Quality.--Madame du Deffand.--A Letter
from Madame de Sévigné.--Rousseau and the King of
Prussia.--The Hume-Rousseau Quarrel.--Returns to
England, and hears Wesley at Bath.--Paris again.--Madame
du Deffand's Vitality.--Her Character.--Minor
Literary Efforts.--The _Historic Doubts_.--The
_Mysterious Mother_.--Tragedy in England.--Doings
of the Strawberry Press.--Walpole and Chatterton. 166
CHAPTER VIII.
PAGE
Old Friends and New.--Walpole's Nieces.--Mrs.
Damer.--Progress of Strawberry Hill.--Festivities
and Later Improvements.--_A Description_, etc., 1774.--The
House and Approaches.--Great Parlour, Waiting
Room, China Room, and Yellow Bedchamber.--Breakfast
Room.--Green Closet and Blue Bedchamber.--Armoury
and Library.--Red Bed-chamber, Holbein
Chamber, and Star Chamber.--Gallery.--Round
Drawing Room and Tribune.--Great North Bed-chamber.--Great
Cloister and Chapel.--Walpole on
Strawberry.--Its Dampness.--A Drive from Twickenham
to Piccadilly. 201
CHAPTER IX.
Occupations and Correspondence.--Literary Work.--Jephson
and the Stage.--_Nature will Prevail._--Issues
from the Strawberry Press.--Fourth Volume
of the _Anecdotes of Painting_.--The Beauclerk Tower
and Lady Di.--George, third Earl of Orford.--Sale
of the Houghton Pictures.--Moves to Berkeley Square.--Last
Visit to Madame du Deffand.--Her Death.--Themes
for Letters.--Death of Sir Horace Mann.--Pinkerton,
Madame de Genlis, Miss Burney, Hannah
More.--Mary and Agnes Berry.--Their Residence at
Twickenham.--Becomes fourth Earl of Orford.--_Epitaphium
vivi Auctoris._--The Berrys again.--Death
of Marshal Conway.--Last Letter to Lady Ossory.--Dies
at Berkeley Square, 2 March, 1797.--His Fortune
and Will.--The Fate of Strawberry. 232
CHAPTER X.
Macaulay on Walpole.--Effect of the _Edinburgh_ Essay.--Macaulay
and Mary Berry.--Portraits of Walpole.--Miss
Hawkins's Description.--Pinkerton's Rainy
Day at Strawberry.--Walpole's Character as a Man;
as a Virtuoso; as a Politician; as an Author and Letter-writer. 271
APPENDIX 299
INDEX 325
HORACE WALPOLE:
A Memoir.
CHAPTER I.
The Walpoles of Houghton.--Horace Walpole born, 24 September,
1717.--Lady Louisa Stuart's Story.--Scattered Facts of
his Boyhood.--Minor Anecdotes.--'La belle Jennings.'--The
Bugles.--Interview with George I. before his Death.--Portrait
at this time.--Goes to Eton, 26 April, 1727.--His Studies and
Schoolfellows.--The 'Triumvirate,' the 'Quadruple Alliance.'--Entered
at Lincoln's Inn, 27 May, 1731.--Leaves Eton, September, 1734.--Goes
to King's College, Cambridge, 11 March, 1735.--His University
Studies.--Letters from Cambridge.--Verses in the _Gratulatio_.--Verses
in Memory of Henry VI.--Death of Lady Walpole, 20 August, 1737.
The Walpoles of Houghton, in Norfolk, ten miles from King's Lynn,
were an ancient family, tracing their pedigree to a certain Reginald
de Walpole who was living in the time of William the Conqueror. Under
Henry II. there was a Sir Henry de Walpol of Houton and Walpol; and
thenceforward an orderly procession of Henrys and Edwards and Johns
(all 'of Houghton') carried on the family name to the coronation of
Charles II., when, in return for his vote and interest as a member of
the Convention Parliament, one Edward Walpole was made a Knight of the
Bath. This Sir Edward was in due time succeeded by his son, Robert, who
married well, sat for Castle Rising,[1] one of the two family boroughs
(the other being King's Lynn, for which his father had been member),
and reputably filled the combined offices of county magnate and colonel
of militia. But his chief claim to distinction is that his eldest
son, also a Robert, afterwards became the famous statesman and Prime
Minister to whose 'admirable prudence, fidelity, and success' England
owes her prosperity under the first Hanoverians. It is not, however,
with the life of 'that corrupter of parliaments, that dissolute
tipsy cynic, that courageous lover of peace and liberty, that great
citizen, patriot, and statesman,'--to borrow a passage from one of Mr.
Thackeray's graphic vignettes,--that these pages are concerned. It
is more material to their purpose to note that in the year 1700, and
on the 30th day of July in that year (being the day of the death of
the Duke of Gloucester, heir presumptive to the crown of England),
Robert Walpole, junior, then a young man of three-and-twenty, and late
scholar of King's College, Cambridge, took to himself a wife. The lady
chosen was Miss Catherine Shorter, eldest daughter of John Shorter,
of Bybrook, an old Elizabethan red-brick house near Ashford in Kent.
Her grandfather, Sir John Shorter, had been Lord Mayor of London under
James II., and her father was a Norway timber merchant, having his
wharf and counting-house on the Southwark side of the Thames, and his
town residence in Norfolk Street, Strand, where, in all probability,
his daughter met her future husband. They had a family of four sons
and two daughters. One of the sons, William, died young. The third
son, Horatio,[2] or Horace, born, as he himself tells us, on the 24th
September, 1717, O. S., is the subject of this memoir.
[1] Another member for Castle Rising was Samuel Pepys, the Diarist.
[2] The name of _Horatio_ I dislike. It is theatrical, and not English.
I have, ever since I was a youth, written and subscribed _Horace_, an
English name for an Englishman. In all my books (and perhaps you will
think of the _numerosus Horatius_) I so spell my name.--_Walpoliana_,
i. 62.
With the birth of Horace Walpole is connected a scandal so
industriously repeated by his later biographers that (although it has
received far more attention than it deserves) it can scarcely be
left unnoticed here. He had, it is asserted, little in common, either
in tastes or appearance, with his elder brothers Robert and Edward,
and he was born eleven years after the rest of his father's children.
This led to a suggestion which first found definite expression in
the _Introductory Anecdotes_ supplied by Lady Louisa Stuart to Lord
Wharncliffe's edition of the works of her grandmother, Lady Mary
Wortley Montagu.[3] It was to the effect that Horace was not the son
of Sir Robert Walpole, but of one of his mother's admirers, Carr, Lord
Hervey, elder brother of Pope's 'Sporus,' the Hervey of the _Memoirs_.
It is advanced in favour of this supposition that his likeness to the
Herveys, both physically and mentally, was remarkable; that the whilom
Catherine Shorter was flighty, indiscreet, and fond of admiration; and
that Sir Robert's cynical disregard of his wife's vagaries, as well
as his own gallantries (his second wife, Miss Skerret, had been his
mistress), were matters of notoriety. On the other hand, there is no
indication that any suspicion of his parentage ever crossed the mind
of Horace Walpole himself. His devotion to his mother was one of the
most consistent traits in a character made up of many contradictions;
and although between the frail and fastidious virtuoso and the
boisterous, fox-hunting Prime Minister there could have been but little
sympathy, the son seems nevertheless to have sedulously maintained a
filial reverence for his father, of whose enemies and detractors he
remained, until his dying day, the implacable foe. Moreover, it must be
remembered that, admirable as are Lady Louisa Stuart's recollections,
in speaking of Horace Walpole she is speaking of one whose caustic pen
and satiric tongue had never spared the reputation of the vivacious
lady whose granddaughter she was.
[3] It is also to be found asserted as a current story in the _Note
Books_ (unpublished) of the Duchess of Portland, the daughter of Edward
Harley, second Earl of Oxford, and the 'noble, lovely little Peggy' of
her father's friend and _protégé_, Matthew Prior.
With this reference to what can be, at best, but an insoluble question,
we may return to the story of Walpole's earlier years. Of his childhood
little is known beyond what he has himself told in the _Short Notes
of my Life_ which he drew up for the use of Mr. Berry, the nominal
editor of his works.[4] His godfathers, he says, were the Duke of
Grafton and his father's second brother, Horatio, who afterwards became
Baron Walpole of Wolterton. His godmother was his aunt, the beautiful
Dorothy Walpole, who, escaping the snares of Lord Wharton, as related
by Lady Louisa Stuart, had become the second wife of Charles, second
Viscount Townshend. In 1724, he was 'inoculated for the small-pox;' and
in the following year, was placed with his cousins, Lord Townshend's
younger sons, at Bexley, in Kent, under the charge of one Weston,
son to the Bishop of Exeter of that name. In 1726, the same course
was pursued at Twickenham, and in the winter months he went to Lord
Townshend's. Much of his boyhood, however, must have been spent in
the house 'next the College' at Chelsea, of which his father became
possessed in 1722. It still exists in part, with but little alteration,
as the infirmary of the hospital, and Ward No. 7 is said to have been
its dining-room.[5] With this, or with some other reception-chamber
at Chelsea, is connected one of the scanty anecdotes of this time.
Once, when Walpole was a boy, there came to see his mother one of those
formerly famous beauties chronicled by Anthony Hamilton,--'la belle
Jennings,' elder sister to the celebrated Duchess of Marlborough, and
afterwards Duchess of Tyrconnell. At this date she was a needy Jacobite
seeking Lady Walpole's interest in order to obtain a pension. She no
longer possessed those radiant charms which under Charles had revealed
her even through the disguise of an orange-girl; and now, says Walpole,
annotating his own copy of the _Memoirs of Grammont_, 'her eyes
being dim, and she full of flattery, she commended the beauty of the
prospect; but unluckily the room in which they sat looked only against
the garden-wall.'[6]
[4] These, hereafter referred to as the _Short Notes_, are the chief
authority for three parts of Walpole's not very eventful life. They
were first published with the concluding series of his _Letters to
Sir Horace Mann_, 2 vols., 1844, and are reprinted in Mr. Peter
Cunningham's edition of the _Correspondence_, vol. i. (1857), pp.
lxi-lxxvii.
[5] Martin's _Old Chelsea_, 1889, p. 82; Beaver's _Memorials of Old
Chelsea_, 1892, p. 291.
[6] Cunningham, v. 36, and ix. 519. The Duchess of Tyrconnell's
portrait, copied by Milbourn from the original at Lord Spencer's, was
one of the prominent ornaments of the Great Bedchamber at Strawberry
Hill. (See _A Description of the Villa_, etc., 1774, p. 138.) There
are some previously unpublished particulars respecting her as 'Mlle.
Genins' in M. Jusserand's extremely interesting _French Ambassador at
the Court of Charles the Second_, 1892, pp. 153 _et seq._, 170, 182.
Another of the few events of his boyhood which he records, illustrates
the old proverb that 'One half of the world knows not how the other
half lives,' rather than any particular phase of his biography. Going
with his mother to buy some bugles (beads), at the time when the
opposition to his father was at its highest, he notes that having made
her purchase,--beads were then out of fashion, and the shop was in some
obscure alley in the City, where lingered unfashionable things,--Lady
Walpole bade the shopman send it home. Being asked whither, she
replied, 'To Sir Robert Walpole's.' 'And who,' rejoined he coolly, 'is
Sir Robert Walpole?'[7] But the most interesting incident of his youth
was the visit he paid to the King, which he has himself related in
Chapter I. of the _Reminiscences_. How it came about he does not know,
but at ten years old an overmastering desire seized him to inspect
His Majesty. This childish caprice was so strong that his mother, who
seldom thwarted him, solicited the Duchess of Kendal (the _maîtresse
en titre_) to obtain for her son the honour of kissing King George's
hand before he set out upon that visit to Hanover from which he was
never to return. It was an unusual request, but being made by the Prime
Minister's wife, could scarcely be refused. To conciliate etiquette
and avoid precedent, however, it was arranged that the audience
should be in private and at night. 'Accordingly, the night but one
before the King began his last journey [_i. e._, on 1 June, 1727], my
mother carried me at ten at night to the apartment of the Countess of
Walsingham [Melusina de Schulemberg, the Duchess's reputed niece],
on the ground floor, towards the garden at St. James's, which opened
into that of her aunt, ... apartments occupied by George II. after his
Queen's death, and by his successive mistresses, the Countesses of
Suffolk [Mrs. Howard] and Yarmouth [Madame de Walmoden]. Notice being
given that the King was come down to supper, Lady Walsingham took me
alone into the Duchess's ante-room, where we found alone the King and
her. I knelt down, and kissed his hand. He said a few words to me, and
my conductress led me back to my mother. The person of the King is as
perfect in my memory as if I saw him but yesterday. It was that of an
elderly man, rather pale, and exactly like his pictures and coins;
not tall; of an aspect rather good than august; with a dark tie-wig,
a plain coat, waistcoat, and breeches of snuff-coloured cloth, with
stockings of the same colour, and a blue ribband over all. So entirely
was he my object that I do not believe I once looked at the Duchess;
but as I could not avoid seeing her on entering the room, I remember
that just beyond His Majesty stood a very tall, lean, ill-favoured old
lady; but I did not retain the least idea of her features, nor know
what the colour of her dress was.'[8] In the _Walpoliana_ (p. 25)[9]
Walpole is made to say that his introducer was his father, and that
the King took him up in his arms and kissed him. Walpole's own written
account is the more probable one. His audience must have been one of
the last the King granted, for, as already stated, it was almost on the
eve of his departure; and ten days later, when his chariot clattered
swiftly into the courtyard of his brother's palace at Osnabruck, he lay
dead in his seat, and the reign of his successor had begun.
[7] _Walpole to the Miss Berrys_, 5 March, 1791.
[8] _Reminiscences of the Courts of George the First and Second_, in
Cunningham's _Corr._, i. xciii-xciv.
[9] The book referred to is a 'little lounging miscellany' of notes
and anecdotes by John Pinkerton, and was printed, soon after Walpole's
death, by Bensley, who lived in Johnson's old house, No. 8 Bolt Court.
It requires to to be used with caution (see _Quarterly Review_, vol.
lxxii., No. cxliv.), and must not be confused with Lord Hardwicke's
privately printed _Walpoliana_, which relate to Sir Robert Walpole.
Although Walpole gives us a description of George I., he does not,
of course, supply us with any portrait of himself. But in Mr. Peter
Cunningham's excellent edition of the _Correspondence_ there is a copy
of an oil-painting belonging (1857) to Mrs. Bedford of Kensington,
which, upon the faith of a Cupid who points with an arrow to the
number ten upon a dial, may be accepted as representing him about
the time of the above interview. It is a full length of a slight,
effeminate-looking lad in a stiff-skirted coat, knee-breeches, and
open-breasted laced waistcoat, standing in a somewhat affected attitude
at the side of the afore-mentioned sundial. He has dark, intelligent
eyes, and a profusion of light hair curling abundantly about his ears
and reaching to his neck. If the date given in the _Short Notes_
be correct, he must have already become an Eton boy, since he says
that he went to that school on the 26th April, 1727, and he adds in
the _Reminiscences_ that he shed a flood of tears for the King's
death, when, 'with the other scholars at Eton College,' he walked in
procession to the proclamation of his successor. Of the cause of this
emotion he seems rather doubtful, leaving us to attribute it partly to
the King's condescension in gratifying his childish loyalty, partly
to the feeling that, as the Prime Minister's son, it was incumbent on
him to be more concerned than his schoolfellows; while the spectators,
it is hinted, placed it to the credit of a third and not less cogent
cause,--the probability of that Minister's downfall. Of this, however,
as he says, he could not have had the slightest conception. His tutor
at Eton was Henry Bland, eldest son of the master of the school. 'I
remember,' says Walpole, writing later to his relative and schoolfellow
Conway, 'when I was at Eton, and Mr. Bland had set me an extraordinary
task, I used sometimes to pique myself upon not getting it, because it
was not immediately my school business. What, learn more than I was
absolutely forced to learn! I felt the weight of learning that, for I
was a blockhead, and pushed up above my parts.' That, as the son of
the great Minister, he was pushed, is probably true; but, despite his
own disclaimer, it is clear that his abilities were by no means to be
despised. Indeed, one of the _pièces justificatives_ in the story of
Lady Louisa Stuart, though advanced for another purpose, is distinctly
in favour of something more than average talent. Supporting her theory
as to his birth by the statement that in his boyhood he was left so
entirely in the hands of his mother as to have little acquaintance with
his father, she goes on to say that 'Sir Robert Walpole took scarcely
any notice of him, till his proficiency at Eton School, when a lad of
some standing, drew his attention, and proved that whether he had
or had not a right to the name he went by, he was likely to do it
honour.'[10] Whatever this may be held to prove, it certainly proves
that he was not the blockhead he declares himself to have been.
[10] This is quoted by Mr. Hayward and others as if the last words were
Sir Robert Walpole's. But Lady Louisa Stuart says nothing to indicate
this (Lady Mary Wortley Montagu's _Letters_, etc., 1887, i. xciii).
Among his schoolmates he made many friends. For his cousins, Henry
(afterwards Marshal) Conway and Lord Hertford, Conway's elder brother,
he formed an attachment which lasted through life, and many of his
best letters were written to these relatives. Other associates were
the later lyrist, Charles Hanbury Williams, and the famous wit, George
Augustus Selwyn, both of whom, if the child be father to the man, must
be supposed to have had unusual attractions for their equally witty
schoolmate. Another contemporary at school, to whom, in after life, he
addressed many letters, was William Cole, subsequently to develop into
a laborious antiquary, and probably already exhibiting proclivities
towards 'tall copies' and black letter. But his chiefest friends, no
doubt, were grouped in the two bodies christened respectively the
'triumvirate' and the 'quadruple alliance.'
Of these the 'triumvirate' was the less important. It consisted of
Walpole and the two sons of Brigadier-General Edward Montagu. George,
the elder, afterwards M.P. for Northampton, and the recipient of some
of the most genuine specimens of his friend's correspondence, is
described in advanced age as 'a gentleman-like body of the _vieille
cour_,' usually attended by a younger brother, who was still a
midshipman at the mature age of sixty, and whose chief occupation
consisted in carrying about his elder's snuff-box. Charles Montagu,
the remaining member of the 'triumvirate,' became a Lieut.-General
and Knight of the Bath. But it was George, who had 'a fine sense of
humour, and much curious information,' who was Walpole's favourite.
'Dear George,'--he writes to him from Cambridge,--'were not the
playing fields at Eton food for all manner of flights? No old maid's
gown, though it had been tormented into all the fashions from King
James to King George, ever underwent so many transformations as those
poor plains have in my idea. At first I was contented with tending a
visionary flock, and sighing some pastoral name to the echo of the
cascade under the bridge. How happy should I have been to have had
a kingdom only for the pleasure of being driven from it, and living
disguised in an humble vale! As I got further into Virgil and Clelia, I
found myself transported from Arcadia to the garden of Italy; and saw
Windsor Castle in no other view than the _Capitoli immobile saxum_.'
Further on he makes an admission which need scarcely surprise us. 'I
can't say I am sorry I was never quite a schoolboy: an expedition
against bargemen, or a match at cricket, may be very pretty things to
recollect; but, thank my stars, I can remember things that are very
near as pretty. The beginning of my Roman history was spent in the
asylum, or conversing in Egeria's hallowed grove; not in thumping and
pummelling King Amulius's herdsmen.'[11] The description seems to
indicate a schoolboy of a rather refined and effeminate type, who would
probably fare ill with robuster spirits. But Walpole's social position
doubtless preserved him from the persecution which that variety
generally experiences at the hands--literally the hands--of the tyrants
of the playground.
[11] _Letter to Montagu_, 6 May, 1736.
The same delicacy of organisation seems to have been a main connecting
link in the second or 'quadruple alliance' already referred to,--an
alliance, it may be, less intrinsically intimate, but more obviously
cultivated. The most important figure in this quartet was a boy as
frail and delicate as Walpole himself, 'with a broad, pale brow, sharp
nose and chin, large eyes, and a pert expression,' who was afterwards
to become famous as the author of one of the most popular poems in the
language, the _Elegy written in a Country Church Yard_. Thomas Gray was
at this time about thirteen, and consequently somewhat older than his
schoolmate. Another member of the association was Richard West, also
slightly older, a grandson of the Bishop Burnet who wrote the _History
of My Own Time_, and son of the Lord Chancellor of Ireland. West, a
slim, thoughtful lad, was the most precocious genius of the party,
already making verses in Latin and English, and making them even in
his sleep. The fourth member was Thomas Ashton, afterwards Fellow of
Eton College and Rector of St. Botolph, Bishopsgate. Such was the group
which may be pictured sauntering arm in arm through the Eton meadows,
or threading the avenue which is still known as the 'Poet's Walk.' Each
of the four had his nickname, either conferred by himself or by his
schoolmates. Ashton, for example, was Plato; Gray was Orosmades.
On 27 May, 1731, Walpole was entered at Lincoln's Inn, his father
intending him for the law. 'But'--he says in the _Short Notes_--'I
never went thither, not caring for the profession.' On 23 September,
1734, he left Eton for good, and no further particulars of his
school-days remain. That they were not without their pleasant memories
may, however, be inferred from the letters already quoted, and
especially from one to George Montagu written some time afterwards
upon the occasion of a visit to the once familiar scenes. It is dated
from the Christopher Inn, a famous old hostelry, well known to Eton
boys,--'The Christopher. How great I used to think anybody just landed
at the Christopher! But here are no boys for me to send for; there I
am, like Noah, just returned into his old world again, with all sorts
of queer feels about me. By the way, the clock strikes the old cracked
sound; I recollect so much, and remember so little; and want to play
about; and am so afraid of my playfellows; and am ready to shirk
Ashton; and can't help _making fun_ of myself; and envy a dame over the
way, that has just locked in her boarders, and is going to sit down in
a little hot parlour to a very bad supper, so comfortably! And I could
be so jolly a dog if I did not _fat_,--which, by the way, is the first
time the word was ever applicable to me. In short, I should be out of
all _bounds_ if I was to tell you half I feel,--how young again I am
one minute, and how old the next. But do come and feel with me, when
you will,--to-morrow. Adieu! If I don't compose myself a little more
before Sunday morning, when Ashton is to preach ['Plato' at the date
of this letter had evidently taken orders], I shall certainly _be in
a bill for laughing at church_; but how to help it, to see him in the
pulpit, when the last time I saw him here was standing up funking over
against a conduit to be catechised.'[12]
[12] _Walpole to Montagu._ Cunningham, 1857, i. 15.
This letter, of which the date is not given, but which Cunningham
places after March, 1737, must have been written some time after the
writer had taken up his residence at Cambridge in his father's college
of King's.[13] This he did in March, 1735, following an interval of
residence in London. By this time the 'quadruple alliance' had been
broken up by the defection of West, who, much against his will, had
gone to Christ Church, Oxford. Ashton and Gray had, however, been a
year at Cambridge, the latter as a fellow-commoner of Peterhouse,
the former at Walpole's own college, King's. Cole and the Conways
were also at Cambridge, so that much of the old intercourse must have
been continued. Walpole's record of his university studies is of the
most scanty kind. He does little more than give us the names of his
tutors, public and private. In civil law he attended the lectures of
Dr. Dickens of Trinity Hall; in anatomy, those of Dr. Battie. French,
he says, he had learnt at Eton. His Italian master at Cambridge was
Signor Piazza (who had at least an Italian name!), and his instructor
in drawing was the miniaturist Bernard Lens, the teacher of the Duke of
Cumberland and the Princesses Mary and Louisa. Lens was the author of a
_New and Complete Drawing Book for curious young Gentlemen and Ladies
that study and practice the noble and commendable Art of Drawing,
Colouring, etc._, and is kindly referred to in the later _Anecdotes
of Painting_. In mathematics, which Walpole seems to have hated as
cordially as Swift and Goldsmith and Gray did, he sat at the feet of
the blind Professor Nicholas Saunderson, author of the _Elements of
Algebra_.[14] Years afterwards (_à propos_ of a misguided enthusiast
who had put the forty-seventh proposition of Euclid into Latin verse)
he tells one of his correspondents the result of these ministrations:
'I ... was always so incapable of learning mathematics that I could
not even get by heart the multiplication table, as blind Professor
Saunderson honestly told me, above threescore years ago, when I went
to his lectures at Cambridge. After the first fortnight he said to
me, 'Young man, it would be cheating you to take your money; for you
can never learn what I am trying to teach you.' I was exceedingly
mortified, and cried; for, being a Prime Minister's son, I had firmly
believed all the flattery with which I had been assured that my parts
were capable of anything. I paid a private instructor for a year;
but, at the year's end, was forced to own Saunderson had been in
the right.'[15] This private instructor was in all probability Mr.
Trevigar, who, Walpole says, read lectures to him in mathematics and
philosophy. From other expressions in his letters, it must be inferred
that his progress in the dead languages, if respectable, was not
brilliant. He confesses, on one occasion, his inability to help Cole in
a Latin epitaph, and he tells Pinkerton that he never was a good Greek
scholar.
[13] Mr. D.C. Tovey (_Gray and his Friends_, 1890, 3 n.) thinks that
Ashton probably never preached at Eton before he was made Fellow, in
December, 1745,--which would greatly advance the date of Walpole's
communication. But it is cited here solely for its reminiscences of his
school-days.
[14] Saunderson had lost both his eyes in infancy from small-pox. This,
however, did not prevent him from lecturing on Newton's _Optics_,
and becoming Lucasian Professor of Mathematics at Cambridge. Another
undergraduate who attended his lectures was Chesterfield. (See Letter
to Jouneau, 12 Oct., 1712.) There is an interesting account of
Saunderson by a former pupil, together with an excellent portrait, in
the _Gentleman's Magazine_ for September, 1754.
[15] _Walpole to Miss Berry_, 16 Aug., 1796.
His correspondence at this period, chiefly addressed to West and
George Montagu, is not extensive, but it is already characteristic. In
one of his letters to Montagu he encloses a translation of a little
French dialogue between a turtle-dove and a passer-by. The verses are
of no particular merit, but in the comment one recognizes a cast of
style soon to be familiar. 'You will excuse this gentle nothing, I
mean mine, when I tell you I translated it out of pure good-nature for
the use of a disconsolate wood-pigeon in our grove, that was made a
widow by the barbarity of a gun. She coos and calls me so movingly,
'twould touch your heart to hear her. I protest to you it grieves me
to pity her. She is so allicholly[16] as any thing. I'll warrant you
now she's as sorry as one of us would be. Well, good man, he's gone,
and he died like a lamb. She's an unfortunate woman, but she must
have patience.'[17] In another letter to West, after expressing his
astonishment that Gray should be at Burnham in Buckinghamshire, and
yet be too indolent to revisit the old Eton haunts in his vicinity,
he goes on to gird at the university curriculum. At Cambridge, he
says, they are supposed to betake themselves 'to some trade, as logic,
philosophy, or mathematics.' But he has been used to the delicate
food of Parnassus, and can never condescend to the grosser studies of
Alma Mater. 'Sober cloth of syllogism colour suits me ill; or, what's
worse, I hate clothes that one must prove to be of no colour at all. If
the Muses _cœlique vias et sidera monstrent_, and _quâ vi maria alta
tumescant_; why _accipiant_: but 'tis thrashing, to study philosophy
in the abstruse authors. I am not against cultivating these studies,
as they are certainly useful; but then they quite neglect all polite
literature, all knowledge of this world. Indeed, such people have not
much occasion for this latter; for they shut themselves up from it,
and study till they know less than any one. Great mathematicians have
been of great use; but the generality of them are quite unconversible:
they frequent the stars, _sub pedibusque vident nubes_, but they can't
see through them. I tell you what I see; that by living amongst them,
I write of nothing else: my letters are all parallelograms, two sides
equal to two sides; and every paragraph an axiom, that tells you
nothing but what every mortal almost knows.'[18] In an earlier note he
has been on a tour to Oxford, and, with a premonition of the future
connoisseur of Strawberry Hill, criticises the gentlemen's seats on the
road. 'Coming back, we saw Easton Neston [in Northamptonshire], a seat
of Lord Pomfret, where in an old greenhouse is a wonderful fine statue
of Tully, haranguing a numerous assemblage of decayed emperors, vestal
virgins with new noses, Colossus's, Venus's, headless carcases and
carcaseless heads, pieces of tombs, and hieroglyphics.'[19] A little
later he has been to his father's seat at Houghton: 'I am return'd
again to Cambridge, and can tell you what I never expected,--that
I like Norfolk. Not any of the ingredients, as Hunting or Country
Gentlemen, for I had nothing to do with them, but the county; which
a little from Houghton is woody, and full of delightfull prospects.
I went to see Norwich and Yarmouth, both which I like exceedingly. I
spent my time at Houghton for the first week almost alone. We have
a charming garden, all wilderness; much adapted to my Romantick
inclinations.' In after life the liking for Norfolk here indicated
does not seem to have continued, especially when his father's death
had withdrawn a part of its attractions. He 'hated Norfolk,'--says Mr.
Cunningham. 'He did not care for Norfolk ale, Norfolk turnips, Norfolk
dumplings, or Norfolk turkeys. Its flat, sandy, aguish scenery was not
to his taste.' He preferred 'the rich blue prospects' of his mother's
county, Kent.
[16] Indeed, she is given too much to allicholly and musing.--_Merry
Wives of Windsor_, act i. sc. iv.
[17] _Walpole to Montagu_, 30 May, 1736.
[18] _Walpole to West_, 17 Aug., 1736.
[19] _Walpole to Montagu_, 20 May, 1736.
Of literary effort while at Cambridge, Walpole's record is not great.
In 1736, he was one of the group of university poets--Gray and West
being also of the number--who addressed congratulatory verses to
Frederick, Prince of Wales, upon his marriage with the Princess Augusta
of Saxe-Gotha; and he wrote a poem (which is reprinted in vol. i. of
his works) to the memory of the founder of King's College, Henry VI.
This is dated 2 February, 1738. In the interim Lady Walpole died. Her
son's references to his loss display the most genuine regret. In a
letter to Charles Lyttelton (afterwards the well-known Dean of Exeter,
and Bishop of Carlisle), which is not included in Cunningham's edition,
and is apparently dated in error September, 1732, instead of 1737,[20]
he dwells with much feeling on 'the surprizing calmness and courage
which my dear Mother show'd before her death. I believe few women wou'd
behave so well, & I am certain no man cou'd behave better. For three or
four days before she dyed, she spoke of it with less indifference than
one speaks of a cold; and while she was sensible, which she was within
her two last hours, she discovered no manner of apprehension.' That his
warm affection for her was well known to his friends may be inferred
from a passage in one of Gray's letters to West: 'While I write to you,
I hear the bad news of Lady Walpole's death on Saturday night last [20
Aug., 1737]. Forgive me if the thought of what my poor Horace must feel
on that account, obliges me to have done.'[21] Lady Walpole was buried
in Westminster Abbey, where, on her monument in Henry VIIth's Chapel,
may be read the piously eulogistic inscription which her youngest son
composed to her memory,--an inscription not easy to reconcile in all
its terms with the current estimate of her character. But in August,
1737, she was considerably over fifty, and had probably long outlived
the scandals of which she had been the subject in the days when Kneller
and Eckardt painted her as a young and beautiful woman.
[20] _Notes and Queries_, 2 Jan., 1869.
[21] Gray's _Works_, by Gosse, 1884, ii. 9.
CHAPTER II.
Patent Places under Government.--Starts with Gray on the Grand Tour,
March, 1739.--From Dover to Paris.--Life at Paris.--Versailles.--The
Convent of the Chartreux.--Life at Rheims.--A _Fête Galante_.--The
Grande Chartreuse.--Starts for Italy.--The tragedy of Tory.--Turin;
Genoa.--Academical Exercises at Bologna.--Life at Florence.--Rome;
Naples; Herculaneum.--The Pen of Radicofani.--English at
Florence.--Lady Mary Wortley Montagu.--Preparing for Home.--Quarrel
with Gray.--Walpole's Apologia; his Illness, and Return to England.
That, in those piping days of patronage, when even very young ladies
of quality drew pay as cornets of horse, the son of the Prime Minister
of England should be left unprovided for, was not to be expected.
While he was still resident at Cambridge, lucrative sinecures came to
Horace Walpole. Soon after his mother's death, his father appointed him
Inspector of Imports and Exports in the Custom House,--a post which he
resigned in January, 1738, on succeeding Colonel William Townshend as
Usher of the Exchequer. When, later in the year, he came of age (17
September), he 'took possession of two other little patent-places
in the Exchequer, called Comptroller of the Pipe, and Clerk of the
Estreats,' which had been held for him by a substitute. In 1782, when
he still filled them, the two last-mentioned offices produced together
about £300 per annum, while the Ushership of the Exchequer, at the
date of his obtaining it, was reckoned to be worth £900 a year. 'From
that time [he says] I lived on my own income, and travelled at my own
expense; nor did I during my father's life receive from him but £250
at different times,--which I say not in derogation of his extreme
tenderness and goodness to me, but to show that I was content with what
he had given to me, and that from the age of twenty I was no charge to
my family.'[22]
[22] _Account of my Conduct_, etc., _Works_, 1798, ii. 363-70.
He continued at King's College for some time after he had attained
his majority, only quitting it formally in March, 1739, not without
regretful memories of which his future correspondence was to bear
the traces. If he had neglected mathematics, and only moderately
courted the classics, he had learnt something of the polite arts and
of modern Continental letters,--studies which would naturally lead
his inclination in the direction of the inevitable 'Grand Tour.' Two
years earlier he had very unwillingly declined an invitation from
George Montagu and Lord Conway to join them in a visit to Italy.
Since that date his desire for foreign travel, fostered no doubt by
long conversations with Gray, had grown stronger, and he resolved
to see 'the palms and temples of the south' after the orthodox
eighteenth-century fashion. To think of Gray in this connection was but
natural, and he accordingly invited his friend (who had now quitted
Cambridge, and was vegetating rather disconsolately in his father's
house on Cornhill) to be his travelling companion. Walpole was to act
as paymaster; but Gray was to be independent. Furthermore, Walpole
made a will under which, if he died abroad, Gray was to be his sole
legatee. Dispositions so advantageous and considerate scarcely admitted
of refusal, even if Gray had been backward, which he was not. The
two friends accordingly set out for Paris. Walpole makes the date of
departure 10 March, 1739; Gray says they left Dover at twelve on the
29th.
The first records of the journey come from Amiens in a letter written
by Gray to his mother. After a rough passage across the Straits, they
reached Calais at five. Next day they started for Boulogne in the then
new-fangled invention, a post-chaise,--a vehicle which Gray describes
'as of much greater use than beauty, resembling an ill-shaped chariot,
only with the door opening before instead of [at] the side.' Of
Boulogne they see little, and of Montreuil (where later Sterne engaged
La Fleur) Gray's only record, besides the indifferent fare, is that
'Madame the hostess made her appearance in long lappets of bone lace,
and a sack of linsey-woolsey.' From Montreuil they go by Abbeville to
Amiens, where they visit the cathedral, and the chapels of the Jesuits
and Ursuline Nuns. But the best part of this first letter is the little
picture with which it (or rather as much of it as Mason published)
concludes. 'The country we have passed through hitherto has been flat,
open, but agreeably diversified with villages, fields well cultivated,
and little rivers. On every hillock is a windmill, a crucifix, or
a Virgin Mary dressed in flowers and a sarcenet robe; one sees not
many people or carriages on the road; now and then indeed you meet a
strolling friar, a countryman with his great muff, or a woman riding
astride on a little ass, with short petticoats, and a great head-dress
of blue wool.'[23]
[23] Gray's _Works_, by Gosse, 1884, ii. 18-19.
The foregoing letter is dated the 1st April, and it speaks of reaching
Paris on the 3rd. But it was only on the evening of Saturday the
9th that they rolled into the French capital, 'driving through the
streets a long while before they knew where they were.' Walpole had
wisely resolved not to hurry, and they had besides broken down at
Luzarches, and lingered at St. Denis over the curiosities of the abbey,
particularly a vase of oriental onyx carved with Bacchus and the
nymphs, of which they had dreamed ever since. At Paris, they found a
warm welcome among the English residents,--notably from Mason's patron,
Lord Holdernesse, and Walpole's cousins, the Conways. They seem to
have plunged at once into the pleasures of the place,--pleasures in
which, according to Walpole, cards and eating played far too absorbing
a part. At Lord Holdernesse's they met at supper the famous author of
_Manon Lescaut_, M. l'Abbé Antoine-François Prévost d'Exilles, who
had just put forth the final volume of his tedious and scandalous
_Histoire de M. Cléveland, fils naturel de Cromwel_. They went to the
spectacle of _Pandore_ at the Salle des Machines of the Tuileries;
and they went to the opera, where they saw the successful _Ballet de
la Paix_,--a curious hotchpot, from Gray's description, of cracked
voices and incongruous mythology. With the Comédie Française they were
better pleased, although Walpole, strange to say, unlike Goldsmith
ten years later, was not able to commend the performance of Molière's
_L'Avare_. They saw Mademoiselle Gaussin (as yet unrivalled by the
unrisen Mademoiselle Clairon) in La Noue's tragedy of _Mahomet Second_,
then recently produced, with Dufresne in the leading male part; and
they also saw the prince of _petits-maîtres_, Grandval, acting with
Dufresne's sister, Mademoiselle Jeanne-Françoise Quinault (an actress
'somewhat in Mrs. Clive's way,' says Gray), in the _Philosophe marié_
of Nericault Destouches,--a charming comedy already transferred to the
English stage in the version by John Kelly of _The Universal Spectator_.
Theatres, however, are not the only amusements which the two travellers
chronicle to the home-keeping West. A great part of their time is
spent in seeing churches and palaces full of pictures. Then there
is the inevitable visit to Versailles, which, in sum, they concur
in condemning. 'The great front,' says Walpole, 'is a lumber of
littleness, composed of black brick, stuck full of bad old busts, and
fringed with gold rails.' Gray (he says) likes it; but Gray is scarcely
more complimentary,--at all events is quite as hard upon the _façade_,
using almost the same phrases of depreciation. It is 'a huge heap of
littleness,' in hue 'black, dirty red, and yellow; the first proceeding
from stone changed by age; the second, from a mixture of brick; and
the last, from a profusion of tarnished gilding. You cannot see a more
disagreeable _tout ensemble_; and, to finish the matter, it is all
stuck over in many places with small busts of a tawny hue between every
two windows.' The garden, however, pleases him better; nothing could be
vaster and more magnificent than the _coup d'œil_, with its fountains
and statues and grand canal. But the 'general taste of the place' is
petty and artificial. 'All is forced, all is constrained about you;
statues and vases sowed everywhere without distinction; sugar-loaves
and minced pies of yew; scrawl work of box, and little squirting _jets
d'eau_, besides a great sameness in the walks,--cannot help striking
one at first sight; not to mention the silliest of labyrinths, and all
Æsop's fables in water.'[24] 'The garden is littered with statues and
fountains, each of which has its tutelary deity. In particular, the
elementary god of fire solaces himself in one. In another, Enceladus,
in lieu of a mountain, is overwhelmed with many waters. There are
avenues of water-pots, who disport themselves much in squirting up
cascadelins. In short, 'tis a garden for a great child.'[25] The day
following, being Whitsunday, they witness a grand ceremonial,--the
installation of nine Knights of the Saint Esprit: 'high mass celebrated
with music, great crowd, much incense, King, Queen, Dauphin, Mesdames,
Cardinals, and Court; Knights arrayed by His Majesty; reverences before
the altar, not bows, but curtsies; stiff hams; much tittering among the
ladies; trumpets, kettle-drums, and fifes.'[26]
[24] _Gray to West_, 22 May, 1739.
[25] _Walpole to West_, no date, 1739.
[26] _Gray to West_, 22 May, 1739.
It is Gray who thus summarises the show. But we must go to Walpole
for the account of another expedition, the visit to the Convent of
the Chartreux, the uncouth horror of which, with its gloomy chapel
and narrow cloisters, seems to have fascinated the Gothic soul of the
future author of the _Castle of Otranto_. Here, in one of the cells,
they make the acquaintance of a fresh initiate into the order,--the
account of whose environment suggests retirement rather than solitude.
'He was extremely civil, and called himself Dom Victor. We have
promised to visit him often. Their habit is all white: but besides this
he was infinitely clean in his person; and his apartment and garden,
which he keeps and cultivates without any assistance, was neat to a
degree. He has four little rooms, furnished in the prettiest manner,
and hung with good prints. One of them is a library, and another a
gallery. He has several canary-birds disposed in a pretty manner in
breeding-cages. In his garden was a bed of good tulips in bloom,
flowers and fruit-trees, and all neatly kept. They are permitted at
certain hours to talk to strangers, but never to one another, or to
go out of their convent.' In the same institution they saw Le Sueur's
history (in pictures) of St. Bruno, the founder of the Chartreux.
Walpole had not yet studied Raphael at Rome, but these pictures, he
considered, excelled everything he had seen in England and Paris.[27]
[27] _Walpole to West_, no date, 1739.
'From thence [Paris],' say Walpole's _Short Notes_, 'we went with
my cousin, Henry Conway, to Rheims, in Champagne, [and] staid there
three months.' One of their chief objects was to improve themselves
in French. 'You must not wonder,' he tells West, 'if all my letters
resemble dictionaries, with French on one side, and English on t'other;
I deal in nothing else at present, and talk a couple of words of each
language alternately from morning till night.'[28] But he does not
seem to have yet developed his later passion for letter-writing, and
the 'account of our situation and proceedings' is still delegated to
Gray, some of whose despatches at this time are not preserved. There
is, however, one from Rheims to Gray's mother which gives a vivid idea
of the ancient French Cathedral city, slumbering in its vast vine-clad
plain, with its picturesque old houses and lonely streets, its long
walks under the ramparts, and its monotonous frog-haunted moat. They
have no want of society, for Henry Conway procured them introductions
everywhere; but the Rhemois are more constrained, less familiar, less
hospitable, than the Parisians. Quadrille is the almost invariable
amusement, interrupted by one entertainment (for the Rhemois as a rule
give neither dinners nor suppers); to wit, a five o'clock _goûter_,
which is 'a service of wine, fruits, cream, sweetmeats, crawfish, and
cheese,' after which they sit down to cards again. Occasionally,
however, the demon of impromptu flutters these 'set, gray lives,' and
(like Dr. Johnson) even Rheims must 'have a frisk.' 'For instance,'
says Gray, 'the other evening we happened to be got together in a
company of eighteen people, men and women of the best fashion here, at
a garden in the town, to walk; when one of the ladies bethought herself
of asking, Why should we not sup here? Immediately the cloth was laid
by the side of a fountain under the trees, and a very elegant supper
served up; after which another said, Come, let us sing; and directly
began herself. From singing we insensibly fell to dancing, and singing
in a round; when somebody mentioned the violins, and immediately a
company of them was ordered. Minuets were begun in the open air, and
then came country dances, which held till four o'clock next morning;
at which hour the gayest lady there proposed that such as were weary
should get into their coaches, and the rest of them should dance before
them with the music in the van; and in this manner we paraded through
all the principal streets of the city, and waked everybody in it.'
Walpole, adds Gray, would have made this entertainment chronic. But
'the women did not come into it,' and shrank back decorously 'to their
dull cards, and usual formalities.'[29]
[28] _Walpole to West_, 18 June, 1739.
[29] Gray's _Works_, by Gosse, 1884, ii. 30.
At Rheims the travellers lingered on in the hope of being joined by
Selwyn and George Montagu. In September they left Rheims for Dijon,
the superior attractions of which town made them rather regret their
comparative rustication of the last three months. From Dijon they
passed southward to Lyons, whence Gray sent to West (then drinking the
Tunbridge waters) a daintily elaborated conceit touching the junction
of the Rhone and the Saône. While at Lyons they made an excursion to
Geneva to escort Henry Conway, who had up to this time been their
companion, on his way to that place. They took a roundabout route in
order to visit the Convent of the Grande Chartreuse, and on the 28th
Walpole writes to West from 'a Hamlet among the mountains of Savoy
[Echelles].' He is to undergo many transmigrations, he says, before
he ends his letter. 'Yesterday I was a shepherd of Dauphiné; to-day
an Alpine savage; to-morrow a Carthusian monk; and Friday a Swiss
Calvinist.' When he next takes up his pen, he has passed through his
third stage, and visited the Chartreuse. With the convent itself
neither Gray nor his companions seem to have been much impressed,
probably because their expectations had been indefinite. For the
approach and the situation they had only enthusiasm. Gray is the
accredited landscape-painter of the party, but here even Walpole breaks
out: 'The road, West, the road! winding round a prodigious mountain,
and surrounded with others, all shagged with hanging woods, obscured
with pines, or lost in clouds! Below, a torrent breaking through
cliffs, and tumbling through fragments of rocks! Sheets of cascades
forcing their silver speed down channelled precipices, and hastening
into the roughened river at the bottom! Now and then an old foot
bridge, with a broken rail, a leaning cross, a cottage, or the ruin
of an hermitage! This sounds too bombast and too romantic to one that
has not seen it, too cold for one that has. If I could send you my
letter post between two lovely tempests that echoed each other's wrath,
you might have some idea of this noble roaring scene, as you were
reading it. Almost on the summit, upon a fine verdure, but without any
prospect, stands the Chartreuse.'[30]
[30] _Walpole to West_, Sept. 28-2 Oct., 1739.
The foregoing passage is dated Aix-in-Savoy, 30 September. Two days
later, passing by Annecy, they came to Geneva. Here they stayed a week
to see Conway settled, and made a 'solitary journey' back to Lyons,
but by a different road, through the spurs of the Jura and across
the plains of La Bresse. At Lyons they found letters awaiting them
from Sir Robert Walpole, desiring his son to go to Italy,--a proposal
with which Gray, only too glad to exchange the over-commercial city
of Lyons for 'the place in the world that best deserves seeing,' was
highly delighted. Accordingly, we speedily find them duly equipped
with 'beaver bonnets, beaver gloves, beaver stockings, muffs, and
bear-skins' _en route_ for the Alps. At the foot of Mont Cenis their
chaise was taken to pieces and loaded on mules, and they themselves
were transferred to low matted legless chairs carried on poles,--a
not unperilous mode of progression, when, as in this case, quarrels
took place among the bearers. But the tragedy of the journey happened
before they had quitted the chaise. Walpole had a fat little black
spaniel of King Charles's breed, named Tory, and he had let the little
creature out of the carriage for the air. While it was waddling along
contentedly at the horses' heads, a gaunt wolf rushed out of a fir
wood, and exit poor Tory before any one had time to snap a pistol.
In later years, Gray would perhaps have celebrated this mishap as
elegantly as he sang the death of his friend's favourite cat; but
in these pre-poetic days he restricts himself to calling it an 'odd
accident enough.'[31]
[31] Tory, however, was not _illachrymabilis_. He found his _vates
sacer_ in one Edward Burnaby Greene, once of Bennet College; and in
referring to this, thirty-five years later, Walpole explains how
Tory got his name. 'His godmother was the widow of Alderman Parsons
[Humphrey Parsons, of Goldsmith's 'black champagne'], who gave him at
Paris to Lord Conway, and he to me' (_Walpole to Cole_, 10 Dec., 1775).
'After eight days' journey through Greenland,'--as Gray puts it to
West,--they reached Turin, where among other English they found
Pope's friend, Joseph Spence, Professor of Poetry at Oxford. Beyond
Walpole's going to Court, and their visiting an extraordinary play
called _La Rappresentazione dell' Anima Dannata_ (for the benefit of
an Hospital), a full and particular account of which is contained in
one of Spence's letters to his mother,[32] nothing remarkable seems
to have happened to them in the Piedmontese capital. From Turin they
went on to Genoa,--'the happy country where huge lemons grow' (as Gray
quotes, not textually, from Waller),--whose blue sea and vine-trellises
they quit reluctantly for Bologna, by way of Tortona, Piacenza, Parma
(where they inspect the Correggios in the Duomo), Reggio, and Modena.
At Bologna, in the absence of introductions, picture-seeing is their
main occupation. 'Except pictures and statues,' writes Walpole, 'we are
not very fond of sights.... Now and then we drop in at a procession,
or a high mass, hear the music, enjoy a strange attire, and hate the
foul monkhood. Last week was the feast of the Immaculate Conception.
On the eve we went to the Franciscans' church to hear the academical
exercises. There were moult and moult clergy, about two dozen dames,
that treated one another with _illustrissima_ and brown kisses, the
vice-legate, the gonfalonier, and some senate. The vice-legate ... is
a young personable person of about twenty, and had on a mighty pretty
cardinal-kind of habit; 'twou'd make a delightful masquerade dress.
We asked his name: Spinola. What, a nephew of the cardinal-legate?
_Signor, no; ma credo che gli sia qualche cosa._ He sat on the
right hand with the gonfalonier in two purple fauteuils. Opposite
was a throne of crimson damask, with the device of the Academy, the
Gelati;[33] and trimmings of gold. Here sat at a table, in black, the
head of the Academy, between the orator and the first poet. At two
semicircular tables on either hand sat three poets and three; silent
among many candles. The chief made a little introduction, the orator a
long Italian vile harangue. Then the chief, the poet, the poets,--who
were a Franciscan, an Olivetan, an old abbé, and three lay,--read their
compositions; and to-day they are pasted up in all parts of the town.
As we came out of the church, we found all the convent and neighbouring
houses lighted all over with lanthorns of red and yellow paper, and two
bonfires.'[34]
[32] Spence's _Anecdotes_, by Singer, 2d ed., 1858, pp. 305-8.
[33] Jarchius has taken the trouble to give us a list of those clubs,
or academies [i. e., _the academies of Italy_], which amount to five
hundred and fifty, each distinguished by somewhat whimsical in the
name. The academicians of Bologna, for instance, are divided into the
Abbandonati, the Ausiosi, Ociosi, Arcadi, Confusi, Dubbiosi, etc. There
are few of these who have not published their Transactions, and scarce
a member who is not looked upon as the most famous man in the world, at
home.--GOLDSMITH, in _The Bee_, No. vi., for 10 November, 1759.
[34] _Walpole to West_, no date, 1739.
In the Christmas of 1739, the friends crossed the Apennines, and
entered Florence. If they had wanted introductions at Bologna, there
was no lack of them in Tuscany, and they were to find one friend who
afterwards figured largely in Walpole's correspondence. This was Mr.
(afterwards Sir Horace) Mann, British Minister Plenipotentiary at the
Court of Florence. 'He is the best and most obliging person in the
world,' says Gray, and his house, with a brief interval, was their
residence for fifteen months. Their letters from Florence are less
interesting than those from which quotations have already been made,
while their amusements seem to have been more independent of each other
than before. Gray occupied himself in the galleries taking the notes of
pictures and statuary afterwards published by Mitford, and in forming
a collection of MS. music; Walpole, on the other hand, had slightly
cooled in his eagerness for the antique, which now 'pleases him
calmly.' 'I recollect'--he says--'the joy I used to propose if I could
but see the Great Duke's gallery; I walk into it now with as little
emotion as I should into St. Paul's. The statues are a congregation of
good sort of people that I have a great deal of unruffled regard for.'
The fact was, no doubt, that society had now superior attractions.
As the son of the English Prime Minister, and with Mann, who was a
relation,[35] at his elbow, all doors were open to him. A correct
record of his time would probably show an unvaried succession of
suppers, balls, and masquerades. In the carnival week, when he snatches
'a little unmasqued moment' to write to West, he says he has done
nothing lately 'but slip out of his domino into bed, and out of bed
into his domino. The end of the Carnival is frantic, bacchanalian; all
the morn one makes parties in masque to the shops and coffee-houses,
and all the evening to the operas and balls.' If Gray was of these
junketings, his letters do not betray it. He was probably engaged in
writing uncomplimentary notes on the Venus de' Medici, or transcribing
a score of Pergolesi.
[35] Dr. Doran ('_Mann_' and _Manners at the Court of Florence_, 1876,
i. 2) describes this connection as 'a distant cousinship.'
The first interruption to these diversions came in March, when they
quitted Florence for Rome in order to witness the coronation of the
successor of Clement XII., who had died in the preceding month. On
their road from Siena they were passed by a shrill-voiced figure in a
red cloak, with a white handkerchief on its head, which they took for
a fat old woman, but which afterwards turned out to be Farinelli's
rival, Senesino. Rome disappointed them,--especially in its inhabitants
and general desolation. 'I am very glad,' writes Walpole, 'that I see
it while it yet exists;' and he goes on to prophesy that before a
great number of years it will cease to exist. 'I am persuaded,' he
says again, 'that in an hundred years Rome will not be worth seeing;
'tis less so now than one would believe. All the public pictures are
decayed or decaying; the few ruins cannot last long; and the statues
and private collections must be sold, from the great poverty of the
families.' Perhaps this last consideration, coupled with the depressing
character of Roman hospitality ('Roman conversations are dreadful
things!' he tells Conway), revived his virtuoso tastes. 'I am far gone
in medals, lamps, idols, prints, etc., and all the small commodities
to the purchase of which I can attain; I would buy the Coliseum if I
could.' Meanwhile as the cardinals are quarrelling, the coronation is
still deferred; and they visit Naples, whence they explore Herculaneum,
then but recently exposed and identified. But neither Gray nor Walpole
waxes very eloquent upon this theme,--probably because at this time the
excavations were only partial, while Pompeii was, of course, as yet
under ground. Walpole's next letter is written from Radicofani,--'a
vile little town at the foot of an old citadel,' which again is at
'the top of a black barren mountain;' the whole reminding the writer
of 'Hamilton's Bawn' in Swift's verses. In this place, although the
traditional residence of one of the Three Kings of Cologne, there is
but one pen, the property of the Governor, who when Walpole borrows
it, sends it to him under 'conduct of a sergeant and two Swiss,' with
special injunctions as to its restoration,--a precaution which in
Walpole's view renders it worthy to be ranked with the other precious
relics of the poor Capuchins of the place, concerning which he
presently makes rather unkindly fun. A few days later they were once
more in the Casa Ambrosio, Mann's pleasant house at Florence, with
the river running so close to them that they could fish out of the
windows. 'I have a terreno [ground-floor] all to myself,' says Walpole,
'with an open gallery on the Arno, where I am now writing to you [_i.
e._, Conway]. Over against me is the famous Gallery; and, on either
hand, two fair bridges. Is not this charming and cool?' Add to which,
on the bridges aforesaid, in the serene Italian air, one may linger
all night in a dressing-gown, eating iced fruits to the notes of a
guitar. But (what was even better than music and moonlight) there is
the society that was the writer's 'fitting environment.' Lady Pomfret,
with her daughters, Lady Charlotte, afterwards governess to the
children of George III., and the beauty Lady Sophia, held a 'charming
conversation' once a week; while the Princess Craon de Beauvau has 'a
constant pharaoh and supper every night, where one is quite at one's
ease.' Another lady-resident, scarcely so congenial to Walpole, was
his sister-in-law, the wife of his eldest brother, Robert, who, with
Lady Pomfret, made certain (in Walpole's eyes) wholly preposterous
pretentions to the yet uninvented status of blue-stocking. To Lady
Walpole and Lady Pomfret was speedily added another 'she-meteor' in the
person of the celebrated Lady Mary Wortley Montagu.
When Lady Mary arrived in Florence in the summer of 1740, she
was a woman of more than fifty, and was just entering upon that
unexplained exile from her country and husband which was prolonged for
two-and-twenty years. Her brilliant abilities were unimpaired; but it
is probable that the personal eccentricities which had exposed her to
the satire of Pope, had not decreased with years. That these would
be extenuated under Walpole's malicious pen was not to be expected;
still less, perhaps, that they would be treated justly. Although,
as already intimated, he was not aware of the scandal respecting
himself which her descendants were to revive, he had ample ground for
antipathy. Her husband was the bitter foe of Sir Robert Walpole; and
she herself had been the firm friend and protectress of his mother's
rival and successor, Miss Skerret.[36] Accordingly, even before her
advent, he makes merry over the anticipated issue of this portentous
'triple alliance' of mysticism and nonsense, and later he writes to
Conway: 'Did I tell you Lady Mary Wortley is here? She laughs at my
Lady Walpole, scolds my Lady Pomfret, and is laughed at by the whole
town. Her dress, her avarice, and her impudence must amaze any one
that never heard her name. She wears a foul mob, that does not cover
her greasy black locks, that hang loose, never combed or curled; an
old mazarine blue wrapper, that gaps open and discovers a canvas
petticoat.... In three words, I will give you her picture as we drew it
in the _Sortes Virgilianæ_,--_Insanam vatem aspicies_. I give you my
honour we did not choose it; but Gray, Mr. Coke, Sir Francis Dashwood,
and I, with several others, drew it fairly amongst a thousand for
different people.'[37] In justice to Lady Mary it is only fair to say
that she seems to have been quite unconscious that she was an object of
ridicule, and was perfectly satisfied with her reception at Florence.
'Lord and Lady Pomfret'--she tells Mr. Wortley--'take pains to make
the place agreeable to me, and I have been visited by the greatest
part of the people of quality.'[38] But although Walpole's portrait is
obviously malicious (some of its details are suppressed in the above
quotation), it is plain that even unprejudiced spectators could not
deny her peculiarities. 'Lady Mary,' said Spence, 'is one of the most
shining characters in the world, but shines like a comet; she is all
irregularity, and always wandering; the most wise, the most imprudent;
loveliest, most disagreeable; best-natured, cruellest woman in the
world: "all things by turns, but nothing long."'[39]
[36] Shortly after Lady Walpole's death, Sir Robert Walpole married his
mistress, Maria Skerret, who died 4 June, 1738, leaving a daughter,
Horace Walpole's half-sister, subsequently Lady Mary Churchill.
[37] _Walpole to Conway_, 25 September, 1740.
[38] _Letters_, etc., of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, ii. 325.
[39] _Spence's Anecdotes_, by Singer, 2nd edn., 1858, p. xxiii.
By this time the new pope, Benedict XIV., had been elected. But
although the friends were within four days journey of Rome, the fear
of heat and malaria forced them to forego the spectacle of the
coronation. They continued to reside with Mann at Florence until May
in the following year. Upon Gray the 'violent delights' of the Tuscan
capital had already begun to pall. It is, he says, 'an excellent place
to employ all one's animal sensations in, but utterly contrary to
one's rational powers.' Walpole, on the other hand, is in his element.
'I am so well within and without,' he says in the same letter which
sketches Lady Mary, 'that you would scarce know me: I am younger than
ever, think of nothing but diverting myself, and live in a round of
pleasures. We have operas, concerts, and balls, mornings and evenings.
I dare not tell you all of one's idlenesses; you would look so grave
and senatorial at hearing that one rises at eleven in the morning,
goes to the opera at nine at night, to supper at one, and to bed at
three! But literally here the evenings and nights are so charming and
so warm, one can't avoid 'em.' In a later letter he says he has lost
all curiosity, and 'except the towns in the straight road to Great
Britain, shall scarce see a jot more of a foreign land.' Indeed,
save a sally concerning the humours of 'Moll Worthless' (Lady Mary)
and Lady Walpole, and the record of the purchase of a few pictures,
medals, and busts,--one of the last of which, a Vespasian in basalt,
was subsequently among the glories of the Twickenham Gallery,--his
remaining letters from Florence contain little of interest. Early in
1741, the homeward journey was mapped out. They were to go to Bologna
to hear the Viscontina sing, they were to visit the Fair at Reggio, and
so by Venice homewards.
But whether the Viscontina was in voice or not, there is, as far as
our travellers are concerned, absence of evidence. No further letter
of Gray from Florence has been preserved, nor is there any mention
of him in Walpole's next despatch to West from Reggio. At that place
a misunderstanding seems to have arisen, and they parted, Gray going
forward to Venice with two other travelling companions, Mr. John Chute
and Mr. Whitehed. In the rather barren record of Walpole's story, this
misunderstanding naturally assumes an exaggerated importance. But it
was really a very trifling and a very intelligible affair. They had
been too long together; and the first fascination of travel, which
formed at the outset so close a bond, had gradually faded with time. As
this alteration took place, their natural dispositions began to assert
themselves, and Walpole's normal love of pleasure and Gray's retired
studiousness became more and more apparent. It is probable too, that,
in all the Florentine gaieties, Gray, who was not a great man's son,
fell a little into the background. At all events, the separation was
imminent, and it needed but a nothing--the alleged opening by Walpole
of a letter of Gray[40]--to to bring it about. Whatever the proximate
cause, both were silent on the subject, although, years after the
quarrel had been made up, and Gray was dead, Walpole took the entire
blame upon himself. When Mason was preparing Gray's _Memoirs_ in 1773,
he authorized him to insert a note by which, in general terms, he
admitted himself to have been in fault, assigning as his reason for not
being more explicit, that while he was living it would not be pleasant
to read his private affairs discussed in magazines and newspapers. But
to Mason personally he was at the same time thoroughly candid, as well
as considerate to his departed friend: 'I am conscious,' he says, 'that
in the beginning of the differences between Gray and me, the fault was
mine. I was too young, too fond of my own diversions, nay, I do not
doubt, too much intoxicated by indulgence, vanity, and the insolence of
my situation, as a Prime Minister's son, not to have been inattentive
and insensible to the feelings of one I thought below me; of one, I
blush to say it, that I knew was obliged to me; of one whom presumption
and folly perhaps made me deem not my superior _then_ in parts, though
I have since felt my infinite inferiority to him. I treated him
insolently: he loved me, and I did not think he did. I reproached him
with the difference between us when he acted from conviction of knowing
he was my superior; I often disregarded his wishes of seeing places,
which I would not quit other amusements to visit, though I offered to
send him to them without me. Forgive me, if I say that his temper was
not conciliating. At the same time that I will confess to you that he
acted a more friendly part, had I had the sense to take advantage of
it; he freely told me of my faults. I declared I did not desire to hear
them, nor would correct them. You will not wonder that with the dignity
of his spirit, and the obstinate carelessness of mine, the breach must
have grown wider till we became incompatible.'[41]
[40] This rests upon the authority of a shadowy Mr. Roberts of the
Pell-office, who told it to Isaac Reed in 1799, more than half a
century after the event. The subject is discussed at some length, but
of necessity inconclusively, by Mr. D. C. Tovey in his interesting
_Gray and his Friends_, 1890. Mr. Tovey thinks that Ashton was
obscurely connected with the quarrel.
[41] _Walpole to Mason_, 2 March, 1773. The letters to Mason were first
printed in 1851 by Mitford. But Pinkerton, in the _Walpoliana_, i.
95, had reported much the same thing. 'The quarrel between Gray and
me [Walpole] arose from his being too serious a companion. I had just
broke loose from the restraints of the university, with as much money
as I could spend, and I was willing to indulge myself. Gray was for
antiquities, etc., while I was for perpetual balls and plays. The fault
was mine.'
'Sir, you have said more than was necessary' was Johnson's reply to a
peace-making speech from Topham Beauclerk. It is needless to comment
further upon this incident, except to add that Walpole's generous words
show that the disagreement was rather the outcome of a sequence of
long-strained circumstances than the result of momentary petulance. For
a time reconciliation was deferred, but eventually it was effected by
a lady, and the intimacy thus renewed continued for the remainder of
Gray's life.
Shortly after Gray's departure in May, Walpole fell ill of a quinsy.
He did not, at first, recognise the gravity of his ailment, and
doctored himself. By a fortunate chance, Joseph Spence, then travelling
as governor to the Earl of Lincoln, was in the neighbourhood, and,
responding to a message from Walpole, 'found him scarce able to
speak.' Spence immediately sent for medical aid, and summoned from
Florence one Antonio Cocchi, a physician and author of some eminence.
Under Cocchi's advice, Walpole speedily showed signs of improvement,
though, in his own words in the _Short Notes_, he 'was given over
for five hours, escaping with great difficulty.' The sequel may be
told from the same source. 'I went to Venice with Henry Clinton, Earl
of Lincoln, and Mr. Joseph Spence, Professor of Poetry, and after a
month's stay there, returned with them by sea from Genoa, landing
at Antibes; and by the way of Toulon, Marseilles, Aix, and through
Languedoc to Montpellier, Toulouse, and Orléans, arrived at Paris,
where I left the Earl and Mr. Spence, and landed at Dover, September
12th, 1741, O. S., having been chosen Member of Parliament for
Kellington [Callington], in Cornwall, at the preceding General Election
[of June], which Parliament put a period to my father's administration,
which had continued above twenty years.'
CHAPTER III.
Gains of the Grand Tour.--'Epistle to Ashton.'--Resignation of Sir
Robert Walpole, who becomes Earl of Orford.--Collapse of the Secret
Committee.--Life at Houghton.--The Picture Gallery.--'A Sermon on
Painting.'--Lord Orford as Moses.--The 'Ædes Walpolianæ.'--Prior's
'Protogenes and Apelles.'--Minor Literature.--Lord Orford's Decline
and Death; his Panegyric.--Horace Walpole's Means.
Although, during his stay in Italy, Walpole had neglected to accumulate
the store of erudition which his friend Gray had been so industriously
hiving for home consumption, he can scarcely be said to have learned
nothing, especially at an age when much is learned unconsciously. His
epistolary style, which, with its peculiar graces and pseudo-graces,
had been already formed before he left England, had now acquired a
fresh vivacity from his increased familiarity with the French and
Italian languages; and he had carried on, however discursively,
something more than a mere flirtation with antiquities. Dr. Conyers
Middleton, whose once famous _Life of Cicero_ was published early
in 1741, and who was himself an antiquary of distinction, thought
highly of Walpole's attainments in this way,[42] and indeed more than
one passage in a poem written by Walpole to Ashton at this time could
scarcely have been penned by any one not fairly familiar with (for
example) the science of those 'medals' upon which Mr. Joseph Addison
had discoursed so learnedly after his Italian tour:--
'What scanty precepts! studies how confin'd!
Too mean to fill your comprehensive mind;
Unsatisfy'd with knowing when or where
Some Roman bigot rais'd a fane to FEAR;
On what green medal VIRTUE stands express'd,
How CONCORD'S pictur'd, LIBERTY how dress'd;
Or with wise ken judiciously define
When Pius marks the honorary coin
Of CARACALLA, or of ANTONINE.'[43]
[42] Juvenis, non tam generis nobilitate, ac paterni nominis gloriâ,
quam ingenio, doctrinâ, et virtute propriâ illustris. Ille vero
haud citius fere in patriam reversus est, quam de studiis meis, ut
consuerat, familiariter per literas quærens, mihi ultro de copiâ suâ,
quicquid ad argumenti mei rationem, aut libelli ornamentum pertineret,
pro arbitrio meo utendum obtulit.--_Pref. ad Germana quædam Antiq.
Monumenta_, etc., p. 6 (quoted in Mitford's _Corr. of Walpole and
Mason_, 1851, i. x-xi).
[43] Walpole's _Works_, 1798, i. 6.
The poem from which these lines are taken--_An Epistle from Florence.
To Thomas Ashton, Esq., Tutor to the Earl of Plimouth_--extends
to some four hundred lines, and exhibits another side of Walpole's
activity in Italy. 'You have seen'--says Gray to West in July,
1740--'an Epistle to Mr. Ashton, that seems to me full of spirit
and thought, and a good deal of poetic fire.' Writing to him ten
years later, Gray seems still to have retained his first impression.
'Satire'--he says--'will be heard, for all the audience are by nature
her friends; especially when she appears in the spirit of Dryden,
with his strength, and often with his versification, such as you have
caught in those lines on the Royal Unction, on the Papal dominion, and
Convents of both Sexes; on Henry VIII. and Charles II., for these are
to me the shining parts of your Epistle. There are many lines I could
wish corrected, and some blotted out, but beauties enough to atone for
a thousand worse faults than these.'[44] Walpole has never been ranked
among the poets; but Gray's praise, in which Middleton and others
concurred, justifies a further quotation. This is the passage on the
Royal Unction and the Papal Dominion:--
[44] Gray's _Works_, by Gosse, 1884, ii. 221.
'When at the altar a new monarch kneels,
What conjur'd awe upon the people steals!
The chosen He adores the precious oil,
Meekly receives the solemn charm, and while
The priest some blessed nothings mutters o'er,
Sucks in the sacred grease at every pore:
He seems at once to shed his mortal skin,
And feels divinity transfus'd within.
The trembling vulgar dread the royal nod,
And worship God's anointed more than God.
'Such sanction gives the prelate to such kings!
So mischief from those hallow'd fountains springs.
But bend your eye to yonder harass'd plains,
Where king and priest in one united reigns;
See fair Italia mourn her holy state,
And droop oppress'd beneath a papal weight;
Where fat celibacy usurps the soil,
And sacred sloth consumes the peasant's toil:
The holy drones monopolise the sky,
And plunder by a vow of poverty.
The Christian cause their lewd profession taints,
Unlearn'd, unchaste, uncharitable saints.'[45]
[45] Walpole's _Works_, 1798, i. 8-9.
That the refined and fastidious Horace Walpole of later years should
have begun as a passable imitator of Dryden is sufficiently piquant.
But that the son of the great courtier Prime Minister should have
distinguished himself by the vigour of his denunciations of kings and
priests, especially when, as his biographers have not failed to remark,
he was writing to one about to take orders, is more noticeable still.
The poem was reprinted in his works, but he makes no mention of it
in the _Short Notes_, nor of an _Inscription for the Neglected Column
in the Place of St. Mark at Florence_, written at the same time, and
characterized by the same anti-monarchical spirit.
His letters to Mann, his chief correspondent at this date, are
greatly occupied, during the next few months, with the climax of
the catastrophe recorded at the end of the preceding chapter,--the
resignation of Sir Robert Walpole. The first of the long series was
written on his way home in September, 1741, when he had for his
fellow-passengers the Viscontina, Amorevoli, and other Italian singers,
then engaged in invading England. He appears to have at once taken up
his residence with his father in Downing Street. Into the network of
circumstances which had conspired to array against the great peace
Minister the formidable opposition of disaffected Whigs, Jacobites,
Tories, and adherents of the Prince of Wales, it would here be
impossible to enter. But there were already signs that Sir Robert was
nodding to his fall; and that, although the old courage was as high
as ever, the old buoyancy was beginning to flag. Failing health added
its weight to the scale. In October Walpole tells his correspondent
that he had 'been very near sealing his letter with black wax,' for
his father had been in danger of his life, but was recovering, though
he is no longer the Sir Robert that Mann once knew. He who formerly
would snore before they had drawn his curtains, now never slept above
an hour without waking; and 'he who at dinner always forgot that he was
Minister,' now sat silent, with eyes fixed for an hour together. At
the opening of Parliament, however, there was an ostensible majority
of forty for the Court, and Walpole seems to have regarded this as
encouraging. But one of the first motions was for an inquiry into the
state of the nation, and this was followed by a division upon a Cornish
petition which reduced the majority to seven,--a variation which sets
the writer nervously jesting about apartments in the Tower. Seven
days later, the opposition obtained a majority of four; and although
Sir Robert, still sanguine in the remembrance of past successes,
seemed less anxious than his family, matters were growing grave, and
his youngest son was reconciling himself to the coming blow. It came
practically on the 21st January, 1742, when Pulteney moved for a secret
committee, which (in reality) was to be a committee of accusation
against the Prime Minister. Walpole defeated this manœuvre with his
characteristic courage and address, but only by a narrow majority of
three. So inconsiderable a victory upon so crucial a question was
perilously close to a reverse; and when, in the succeeding case of the
disputed Chippenham Election, the Government were defeated by one, he
yielded to the counsels of his advisers, and decided to resign. He was
thereupon raised to the peerage as Earl of Orford, with a pension of
£4,000 a year,[46] while his daughter by his second wife, Miss Skerret,
was created an Earl's daughter in her own right. His fall was mourned
by no one more sincerely than by the master he had served so staunchly
for so long; and when he went to kiss hands at St. James's upon taking
leave, the old king fell upon his neck, embraced him, and broke into
tears.
[46] He gave this up at first, but afterwards, when his affairs became
involved, reclaimed it (Cunningham's _Corr._, i. 126 n.).
The new Earl himself seems to have taken his reverses with his
customary equanimity, and, like the shrewd 'old Parliamentary hand'
that he was, to have at once devoted himself to the difficult task of
breaking the force of the attack which he foresaw would be made upon
himself by those in power. He contrived adroitly to foster dissension
and disunion among the heterogeneous body of his opponents; he secured
that the new Ministry should be mainly composed of his old party, the
Whigs; and he managed to discredit his most formidable adversary,
Pulteney. One of the first results of these precautionary measures was
that a motion by Lord Limerick for a committee to examine into the
conduct of the last twenty years was thrown out by a small majority. A
fortnight later the motion was renewed in a fresh form, the scope of
the examination being limited to the last ten years. Upon this occasion
Horace Walpole made his maiden speech,--a graceful and modest, if not
very forcible, effort on his father's side. In this instance, however,
the Government were successful, and the Committee was appointed. Yet,
despite the efforts to excite the public mind respecting Lord Orford,
the case against him seems to have faded away in the hands of his
accusers. The first report of the Committee, issued in May, contained
nothing to criminate the person against whom the inquiry had been
directly levelled; and despite the strenuous and even shameless efforts
of the Government to obtain evidence inculpating the late Minister, the
Committee were obliged to issue a second report in June, of which,--so
far as the chief object was concerned,--the gross result was nil.
By the middle of July, Walpole was able to tell Mann that the 'long
session was over, and the Secret Committee already forgotten,'--as much
forgotten, he says in a later letter, 'as if it had happened in the
last reign.'
When Sir Robert Walpole had resigned, he had quitted his official
residence in Downing Street (which ever since he first occupied it
in 1735 has been the official residence of the First Lord of the
Treasury), and moved to No. 5, Arlington Street, opposite to, but
smaller than, the No. 17 in which his youngest son had been born,
and upon the site of which William Kent built a larger house for Mr.
Pelham. No. 5 is now distinguished by a tablet erected by the Society
of Arts, proclaiming it to have been the house of the ex-Minister. From
Arlington Street, or from the other home at Chelsea already mentioned,
most of Walpole's letters were dated during the months which succeeded
the crisis. But in August, when the House had risen, he migrated with
the rest of the family to Houghton,--the great mansion in Norfolk
which had now taken the place of the ancient seat of the Walpoles,
where during the summer months his father had been accustomed in his
free-handed manner to keep open house to all the county. Fond of
hospitality, fond of field-sports, fond of gardening, and all out-door
occupations, Lord Orford was at home among the flat expanses and
Norfolk turnips. But the family seat had no such attractions to his
son, fresh from the multi-coloured Continental life, and still bearing
about him, in a certain frailty of physique and enervation of spirit,
the tokens of a sickly childhood. 'Next post'--he says despairingly
to Mann--'I shall not be able to write to you; and when I am there
[at Houghton], shall scarce find materials to furnish a letter above
every other post. I beg, however, that you will write constantly to
me; it will be my only entertainment; for I neither hunt, brew, drink,
nor reap.' 'Consider'--he says again--'I am in the barren land of
Norfolk, where news grows as slow as anything green; and besides, I
am in the house of a fallen minister!' Writing letters (in company
with the little white dog 'Patapan'[47] which he had brought from
Rome as a successor to the defunct Tory), walking, and playing comet
with his sister Lady Mary or any chance visitors to the house, seem
to have been his chief resources. A year later he pays a second visit
to Houghton, and he is still unreconciled to his environment. 'Only
imagine that I here every day see men, who are mountains of roast
beef, and only just seem roughly hewn out into the outlines of human
form, like the giant-rock at Pratolino! I shudder when I see them
brandish their knives in act to carve, and look on them as savages
that devour one another.' Then there are the enforced civilities to
entirely uninteresting people,--the intolerable female relative,
who is curious about her cousins to the fortieth remove. 'I have an
Aunt here, a family piece of goods, an old remnant of inquisitive
hospitality and economy, who, to all intents and purposes, is as beefy
as her neighbours. She wore me so down yesterday with interrogatories
that I dreamt all night she was at my ear with "who's" and "why's,"
and "when's" and "where's," till at last in my very sleep I cried out,
"For heaven's sake, Madam, ask me no more questions."' And then, in his
impatience of bores in general, he goes on to write a little essay upon
that 'growth of English root,' that 'awful yawn, which sleep cannot
abate,' as Byron calls it,--Ennui. 'I am so far from growing used to
mankind [he means 'uncongenial mankind'] by living amongst them, that
my natural ferocity and wildness does but every day grow worse. They
tire me, they fatigue me; I don't know what to do with them; I don't
know what to say to them; I fling open the windows, and fancy I want
air; and when I get by myself, I undress myself, and seem to have had
people in my pockets, in my plaits, and on my shoulders! I indeed find
this fatigue worse in the country than in town, because one can avoid
it there, and has more resources; but it is there too. I fear 'tis
growing old; but I literally seem to have murdered a man whose name was
Ennui, for his ghost is ever before me. They say there is no English
word for _ennui_; I think you may translate it most literally by what
is called "entertaining people" and "doing the honours:" that is, you
sit an hour with somebody you don't know and don't care for, talk about
the wind and the weather, and ask a thousand foolish questions, which
all begin with, "I think you live a good deal in the country," or "I
think you don't love this thing or that." Oh, 'tis dreadful!'[48]
[47] Patapan's portrait was painted by John Wootton, who illustrated
Gay's _Fables_ in 1727 with Kent. It hung in Walpole's bedroom at
Strawberry, and now (1892) belongs to Lord Lifford. In 1743 Walpole
wrote a Fable in imitation of La Fontaine, to which he gave the title
of _Patapan; or, the Little White Dog_. It was never printed.
[48] _Walpole to Chute_, 20 August, 1743. Mr. John Chute was a friend
whom Walpole had made at Florence, and with whom, as already stated
in Chapter II., Gray had travelled when they parted company. Until, by
the death of a brother, he succeeded to the estate called The Vyne,
in Hampshire, he lived principally abroad. His portrait by Müntz,
after Pompeio Battoni, hung over the door in Walpole's bedchamber at
Strawberry Hill. An exhaustive _History of The Vyne_ was published in
1888 by the late Mr. Chaloner W. Chute, at that time its possessor.
But even Houghton, with its endless 'doing the honours,' must have had
its compensations. There was a library, and--what must have had even
stronger attractions for Horace Walpole--that magnificent and almost
unique collection of pictures which under a later member of the family,
the third Earl of Orford, passed to Catherine of Russia. For years Lord
Orford, with unwearied diligence and exceptional opportunities, had
been accumulating these treasures. Mann in Florence, Vertue in England,
and a host of industrious foragers had helped to bring together the
priceless canvases which crowded the rooms of the Minister's house
next the Treasury at Whitehall. And if he was inexperienced as a
critic, he was far too acute a man to be deceived by the shiploads
of 'Holy Families, Madonnas, and other dismal dark subjects, neither
entertaining nor ornamental,' against which the one great native artist
of his time,--the painter of the 'Rake's Progress,' so persistently
inveighed. There was no doubt about the pedigrees of the Wouvermanns
and Teniers, the Guidos and Rubens, the Vandykes and Murillos, which
decorated the rooms at Downing Street and Chelsea and Richmond. From
the few records which remain of prices, it would seem that, in addition
to the merit of authenticity, many of the pictures must have had the
attraction of being 'bargains.' In days when £4,000 or £5,000 is no
extravagant price to be given for an old master, it is instructive
to read that £750 was the largest sum ever given by Lord Orford for
any one picture, and Walpole himself quotes this amount as £630. For
four great Snyders, which Vertue bought for him, he only paid £428,
and for a portrait of Clement IX. by Carlo Maratti no more than £200.
Many of the other pictures in his gallery cost him still less, being
donations--no doubt sometimes in gratitude for favours to come--from
his friends and adherents. The Earl of Pembroke, Lord Waldegrave, the
Duke of Montagu, Lord Tyrawley, were among these. But, upon the whole,
the collection was gathered mainly from galleries like the Zambecari at
Bologna, the Arnaldi Palace at Florence, the Pallavicini at Rome, and
from the stores of noble collectors in England.
In 1743, the majority of these had apparently been concentrated at
Houghton, where there was special accommodation for them. 'My Lord,'
says Horace, groaning over a fresh visit to Norfolk, 'has pressed me
so much that I could not with decency refuse: he is going to furnish
and hang his picture-gallery, and wants me.' But it is impossible to
believe that he really objected to a duty so congenial to his tastes.
In fact, he was really greatly interested in it. His letters contain
frequent references to a new Domenichino, a Virgin and Child, which
Mann is sending from Florence, and he comes up to London to meet this
and other pictures, and is not seriously inconsolable to find that
owing to the quarantine for the plague on the Continent, he is detained
for some days in town. One of the best evidences of his solicitude
in connection with the arrangements of the Houghton collection is,
however, the discourse which he wrote in the summer of 1742, under the
title of a _Sermon on Painting_, and which he himself tells us was
actually preached by the Earl's chaplain in the gallery, and afterwards
repeated at Stanno, his elder brother's house. The text was taken from
Psalm CXV.: 'They have Mouths, but they speak not: Eyes have they, but
they see not: neither is there any Breath in their Nostrils;' and the
writer, illustrating his theme by reference to the pictures around his
audience in the gallery, or dispersed through the building, manages to
eulogize the painter's art with considerable skill. He touches upon the
pernicious effect which the closely realized representation of popish
miracles must have upon the illiterate spectator, and points out how
much more commendable and serviceable is the portraiture of benignity,
piety, and chastity,--how much more instructive the incidents of the
Passion, where every 'touch of the pencil is a lesson of contrition,
each figure an apostle to call you to repentance.' He lays stress, as
Lessing and other writers have done, on the universal language of the
brush, and indicates its abuse when restricted to the reproduction of
inquisitors, visionaries, imaginary hermits, 'consecrated gluttons,'
or 'noted concubines,' after which (as becomes his father's son) he
does not fail to disclose its more fitting vocation, to perpetuate the
likeness of William the Deliverer, and the benign, the honest house of
Hanover. _The Dives and Lazarus_ of Veronese and the _Prodigal Son_ of
Salvator Rosa, both on the walls, are pressed into his service, and the
famous _Usurers_ of Quentin Matsys also prompt their parable. Then,
after adroitly dwelling upon the pictorial honours lavished upon mere
asceticism to the prejudice of real heroes, taking Poussin's picture of
_Moses Striking the Rock_ for his text, he winds into what was probably
the ultimate purpose of his discourse, a neatly veiled panegyric of Sir
Robert Walpole under guise of the great lawgiver of the Israelites,
which may be cited as a favourable sample of this curious oration:
'But it is not necessary to dive into profane history for examples of
unregarded merit; the Scriptures themselves contain instances of the
greatest patriots, who lie neglected, while new-fashioned bigots or
noisy incendiaries are the reigning objects of public veneration. See
the great Moses himself,--the lawgiver, the defender, the preserver of
Israel! Peevish orators are more run after, and artful Jesuits more
popular. Examine but the life of that slighted patriot, how boldly
in his youth he understood the cause of liberty! Unknown, without
interest, he stood against the face of Pharaoh! He saved his countrymen
from the hand of tyranny, and from the dominion of an idolatrous king.
How patiently did he bear for a series of years the clamours and cabals
of a factious people, wandering after strange lusts, and exasperated
by ambitious ringleaders! How oft did he intercede for their pardon,
when injured himself! How tenderly deny them specious favours, which
he knew must turn to their own destruction! See him lead them through
opposition, through plots, through enemies, to the enjoyment of peace,
and to the possession of _a land flowing with milk and honey_. Or with
more surprise see him in the barren desert, where sands and wilds
overspread the dreary scene, where no hopes of moisture, no prospect of
undiscovered springs, could flatter their parching thirst; see how with
a miraculous hand--
'"He struck the rock, and straight the waters flowed."'
Whoever denies his praises to such evidences of merit, or with jealous
look can scowl on such benefits, is like the senseless idol, that _has
a mouth that speaks not, and eyes that cannot see_.'
If, in accordance with some perverse fashion of the day, the foregoing
production had not been disguised as a sermon, and actually preached
with the orthodox accompaniment of bands and doxology, there is no
reason why it should not have been regarded as a harmless and not
unaccomplished essay on Art. But the objectionable spirit of parody
upon the ritual, engendered by the strife between 'high' and 'low'
(Walpole himself wrote some _Lessons for the Day_, 1742, which are to
be found in the works of Sir Charles Hanbury Williams), seems to have
dictated the title of what in other respects is a serious _Spectator_,
and needed no spice of irreverence to render it palatable. The _Sermon_
had, however, one valuable result, namely, that it suggested to its
author the expediency of preparing some record of the pictorial
riches of Houghton upon the model of the famous _Ædes Barberini_ and
_Giustinianæ_. As the dedication of the _Ædes Walpolianæ_ is dated
24 August, 1743, it must have been written before that date; but it
was not actually published until 1747, and then only to give away.
Another enlarged and more accurate edition was issued in 1752, and it
was finally reprinted in the second volume of the _Works_ of 1798, pp.
221-78, where it is followed by the _Sermon on Painting_. Professing
to be more a catalogue of the pictures than a description of them, it
nevertheless gives a good idea of a collection which (as its historian
says) both in its extent and the condition of its treasures excelled
most of the existing collections of Italy. In an 'Introduction,'
the characteristics of the various artists are distinguished with
much discrimination, although it is naturally more sympathetic than
critical. Perhaps one of its happiest pages is the following excursus
upon a poem of Prior: 'I cannot conclude this topic of the ancient
painters without taking notice of an extreme pretty instance of Prior's
taste, and which may make an example on that frequent subject, the
resemblance between poetry and painting, and prove that taste in
the one will influence in the other. Everybody has read his tale of
Protogenes and Apelles. If they have read the story in Pliny they will
recollect that by the latter's account it seemed to have been a trial
between two Dutch performers. The Roman author tells you that when
Apelles was to write his name on a board, to let Protogenes know who
had been to inquire for him, he drew an exactly straight and slender
line. Protogenes returned, and with his pencil and another colour,
divided his competitor's. Apelles, on seeing the ingenious minuteness
of the Rhodian master, took a third colour, and laid on a still finer
and indivisible line. But the English poet, who could distinguish the
emulation of genius from nice experiments about splitting hairs, took
the story into his own hands, and in a less number of trials, and with
bolder execution, comprehended the whole force of painting, and flung
drawing, colouring, and the doctrine of light and shade into the noble
contention of those two absolute masters. In Prior, the first wrote
his name in a perfect design, and
'"----with one judicious stroke
On the plain ground Apelles drew
A circle regularly true."'
Protogenes knew the hand, and showed Apelles that his own knowledge of
colouring was as great as the other's skill in drawing.
'"Upon the happy line he laid
Such obvious light and easy shade
That Paris' apple stood confest,
Or Leda's egg, or Chloe's breast."'[49]
[49] Mr. Vertue the engraver made a very ingenious conjecture on this
story; he supposes that Apelles did not draw a straight line, but the
outline of a human figure, which not being correct, Protogenes drew
a more correct figure within his; but that still not being perfect,
Apelles drew a smaller and exactly proportioned one within both the
former.--_Walpole's note._
Apelles acknowledged his rival's merit, without jealously persisting to
refine on the masterly reply:--
'"Pugnavere pares, succubuere pares"'[50]
[50] Walpole's _Works_, 1798, ii. 229-30. The final quotation is from
Martial.
Among the other efforts of his pen at this time were some squibs
in ridicule of the new Ministry. One was a parody of a scene in
_Macbeth_; the other of a scene in Corneille's _Cinna_. He also wrote a
paper against Lord Bath in the _Old England Journal_.
In the not very perplexed web of Horace Walpole's life, the next
occurrence of importance is his father's death. When, as Sir Robert
Walpole, he had ceased to be Prime Minister, he was sixty-five years
of age; and though his equanimity and wonderful constitution still
seemed to befriend him, he had personally little desire, even if
the ways had been open, to recover his ancient power. 'I believe
nothing could prevail on him to return to the Treasury,' writes his
son to Mann in 1743. 'He says he will keep the 12th of February--the
day he resigned--with his family as long as he lives.' He continued
nevertheless, to assist his old master with his counsel, and more than
one step of importance by which the King startled his new Ministry owed
its origin to a confidential consultation with Lord Orford. When, in
January, 1744, the old question of discontinuing the Hanoverian troops
was revived with more than ordinary insistence, it was through Lord
Orford's timely exertions, and his personal credit with his friends,
that the motion was defeated by an overwhelming majority. On the other
hand, a further attempt to harass him by another Committee of Secret
Inquiry was wholly unsuccessful, and signs were not wanting that his
old prestige had by no means departed. Towards the close of 1744,
however, his son begins to chronicle a definite decline in his health.
He is evidently suffering seriously from stone, and is forbidden to
take the least exercise by the King's serjeant-surgeon, that famous
Mr. Ranby who was the friend of Hogarth and Fielding.[51] In January
of the next year, he is trying a famous specific for his complaint,
Mrs. Stephens's medicine. Six weeks later, he has been alarmingly ill
for about a month; and although reckoned out of absolute danger, is
hardly ever conscious more than four hours out of the four-and-twenty,
from the powerful opiates he takes in order to deaden pain. A month
later, on the 18th March, 1745, he died at Arlington Street, in his
sixty-ninth year. At first his son dares scarcely speak of his loss,
but a fortnight afterwards he writes more fully. After showing that
the state of his circumstances proved how little truth there had been
in the charges of self-enrichment made against him, Walpole goes on
to say: 'It is certain, he is dead very poor: his debts, with his
legacies, which are trifling, amount to fifty thousand pounds. His
estate, a nominal eight thousand a year, much mortgaged. In short, his
fondness for Houghton has endangered him. If he had not so overdone it,
he might have left such an estate to his family as might have secured
the glory of the place for many years: another such debt must expose
it to sale. If he had lived, his unbounded generosity and contempt of
money would have run him into vast difficulties. However irreparable
his personal loss may be to his friends, he certainly died critically
well for himself: he had lived to stand the rudest trials with honour,
to see his character universally cleared, his enemies brought to infamy
for their ignorance or villainy, and the world allowing him to be
the only man in England fit to be what he had been; and he died at a
time when his age and infirmities prevented his again undertaking the
support of a government, which engrossed his whole care, and which
he foresaw was falling into the last confusion. In this I hope his
judgment failed! His fortune attended him to the last, for he died of
the most painful of all distempers, with little or no pain.'[52]
[51] Ranby wrote a _Narrative of the last Illness of the Earl of
Orford_, 1745, which provoked much controversy.
[52] _Walpole to Mann_, 15 April, 1745.
From the _Short Notes_ we learn further: 'He [my father] left me the
house in Arlington-street in which he died, £5000 in money, and £1000 a
year from the Collector's place in the Custom-house, and the surplus to
be divided between my brother Edward and me.'
CHAPTER IV.
Stage-gossip and Small-talk.--Ranelagh Gardens.--Fontenoy and
Leicester House.--Echoes of the '45.--Preston Pans.--Culloden.--Trial
of the Rebel Lords.--Deaths of Kilmarnock and Balmerino.--Epilogue
to _Tamerlane_.--Walpole and his Relatives.--Lady Orford.--Literary
Efforts.--The Beauties.--Takes a House at Windsor.
During the period between Walpole's return to England and the death of
Lord Orford, his letters, addressed almost exclusively to Mann, are
largely occupied with the occurrences which accompanied and succeeded
his father's downfall. To Lord Orford's _protégé_ and relative these
particulars were naturally of the first importance, and Walpole's
function of 'General Intelligencer' fell proportionately into the
background. Still, there are occasional references to current events of
a merely social character. After the Secret Committee, he is interested
(probably because his friend Conway was pecuniarily interested) in
the Opera, and the reception by the British public of the Viscontina,
Amorevoli, and the other Italian singers whom he had known abroad.
Of the stage he says comparatively little, dismissing poor Mrs.
Woffington, who had then just made her appearance at Covent Garden, as
'a bad actress,' who, nevertheless, 'has life,'--an opinion in which
he is supported by Conway, who calls her 'an impudent, Irish-faced
girl.' In the acting of Garrick, after whom all the town is (as Gray
writes) 'horn-mad' in May, 1742, he sees nothing wonderful, although
he admits that it is heresy to say so, since that infallible stage
critic, the Duke of Argyll, has declared him superior to Betterton. But
he praises 'a little simple farce' at Drury Lane, _Miss Lucy in Town_,
by Henry Fielding, in which his future friend, Mrs. Clive, and Beard
mimic Amorevoli and the Muscovita. The same letter contains a reference
to another famous stage-queen, now nearing eighty, Anne Bracegirdle,
who should have had the money that Congreve left to Henrietta, Duchess
of Marlborough. 'Tell Mr. Chute [he says] that his friend Bracegirdle
breakfasted with me this morning. As she went out, and wanted her
clogs, she turned to me, and said, "I remember at the playhouse, they
used to call, Mrs. Oldfield's chair! Mrs. Barry's clogs! and Mrs.
Bracegirdle's pattens!"'[53] One pictures a handsome old lady, a
little bent, and leaning on a crutch stick as she delivers this parting
utterance at the door.[54]
[53] _Walpole to Mann_, 26 May, 1742.
[54] According to Pinkerton, another anecdote connects Mrs. Bracegirdle
with the Walpoles. 'Mr. Shorter, my mother's father [he makes Horace
say], was walking down Norfolk Street in the Strand, to his house
there, just before poor Mountfort the player was killed in that street,
by assassins hired by Lord Mohun. This nobleman, lying in wait for
his prey, came up and embraced Mr. Shorter by mistake, saying, 'Dear
Mountfort!' It was fortunate that he was instantly undeceived, for Mr.
Shorter had hardly reached his house before the murder took place'
(_Walpoliana_, ii. 96). Mountfort, it will be remembered, owed his
death to Mrs. Bracegirdle's liking for him.
Among the occurrences of 1742 which find fitting record in the
correspondence, is the opening of that formidable rival to Vauxhall,
Ranelagh Gardens. All through the spring the great Rotunda, with its
encircling tiers of galleries and supper-boxes,--the _coup d'œil_ of
which Johnson thought was the finest thing he had ever seen,--had
been rising slowly at the side of Chelsea Hospital. In April it was
practically completed, and almost ready for visitors. Walpole, of
course, breakfasts there, like the rest of the _beau monde_. 'The
building is not finished [he says], but they get great sums by people
going to see it and breakfasting in the house; there were yesterday
no less than three hundred and eighty persons, at eighteenpence
a-piece. You see how poor we are, when, with a tax of four shillings
in the pound, we are laying out such sums for cakes and ale.'[55] A
week or two later comes the formal inauguration. 'Two nights ago [May
24] Ranelagh-gardens were opened at Chelsea; the Prince, Princess,
Duke, much nobility, and much mob besides, were there. There is a
vast amphitheatre, finely gilt, painted, and illuminated, into which
everybody that loves eating, drinking, staring, or crowding, is
admitted for twelvepence. The building and disposition of the gardens
cost sixteen thousand pounds. Twice a week there are to be Ridottos at
guinea-tickets, for which you are to have a supper and music. I was
there last night [May 25],'--the writer adds,--'but did not find the
joy of it,'[56] and, at present, he prefers Vauxhall, because of the
approach by water, that '_trajet du fleuve fatal_,'--as it is styled
in the _Vauxhall de Londres_ which a French poet dedicated in 1769
to M. de Fontenelle. He seems, however, to have taken Lord Orford to
Ranelagh, and he records in July that they walked with a train at
their heels like two chairmen going to fight,--from which he argues a
return of his father's popularity. Two years later Fashion has declared
itself on the side of the new garden, and Walpole has gone over to
the side of Fashion. 'Every night constantly [he tells Conway] I go
to Ranelagh; which has totally beat Vauxhall. Nobody goes anywhere
else,--everybody goes there. My Lord Chesterfield is so fond of it that
he says he has ordered all his letters to be directed thither. If you
had never seen it, I would make you a most pompous description of it,
and tell you how the floor is all of beaten princes; that you can't set
your foot without treading on a Prince of Wales or Duke of Cumberland.
The company is universal: there is from his Grace of Grafton down to
children out of the Foundling Hospital; from my Lady Townshend to
the kitten; from my Lord Sandys to your humble cousin and sincere
friend.'[57]
[55] _Walpole to Mann_, 22 April, 1742.
[56] _Walpole to Mann_, 26 May, 1742.
[57] _Walpole to Conway_, 29 June, 1744.
After Lord Orford's death, the next landmark in Horace Walpole's life
is his removal to the house at Twickenham, subsequently known as
Strawberry Hill. To a description of this historical mansion the next
chapter will be in part devoted. In the mean time we may linger for a
moment upon the record which these letters contain of the famous '45.
No better opportunity will probably occur of exhibiting Walpole as
the reporter of history in the process of making. Much that he tells
Mann and Montagu is no doubt little more than the skimming of the last
_Gazette_; but he had always access to trustworthy information, and is
seldom a dull reporter, even of newspaper news. Almost the next letter
to that in which he dwells at length upon the loss of his father,
records the disaster of Tournay, or Fontenoy, in which, he tells Mann,
Mr. Conway has highly distinguished himself, magnificently engaging--as
appears from a subsequent communication--no less than two French
Grenadiers at once. His account of the battle is bare enough; but what
apparently interests him most is the patriotic conduct of the Prince of
Wales, who made a _chanson_ on the occasion, after the fashion of the
Regent Orléans:--
'VENEZ, mes chères Déesses,
Venez calmer mon chagrin;
Aidez, mes belles Princesses,
A le noyer dans le vin.
Poussons cette douce Ivresse
Jusqu'au milieu de la nuit,
Et n'écoutons que la tendresse
D'un charmant vis-à-vis.
* * * * *
'Que m'importe que l'Europe
Ait un ou plusieurs tyrans?
Prions seulement Calliope,
Qu'elle inspire nos vers, nos chants.
Laissons Mars et toute la gloire;
Livrons nous tous à l'amour;
Que Bacchus nous donne à boire;
A ces deux fasions [_sic_] la cour.'
The goddesses addressed were Lady Catherine Hanmer, Lady Fauconberg,
and Lady Middlesex, who played Congreve's _Judgment of Paris_ at
Leicester House, with his Royal Highness as Paris, and Prince Lobkowitz
for Mercury. Walpole says of the song that it 'miscarried in nothing
but the language, the thoughts, and the poetry.' Yet he copies the
whole five verses, of which the above are two, for Mann's delectation.
A more logical sequence to Fontenoy than the lyric of Leicester House
is the descent of Charles Edward upon Scotland. In August Walpole
reports to Mann that there is a proclamation out 'for apprehending
the Pretender's son,' who had landed in July; in September he is
marching on Edinburgh. Ten days later the writer is speculating half
ruefully upon the possibilities of being turned out of his comfortable
sinecures in favour of some forlorn Irish peer. 'I shall wonderfully
dislike being a loyal sufferer in a threadbare coat, and shivering
in an ante-chamber at Hanover, or reduced to teach Latin and English
to the young princes at Copenhagen. The Dowager Strafford has already
written cards for my Lady Nithsdale, my Lady Tullibardine, the Duchess
of Perth and Berwick, and twenty more revived peeresses, to invite them
to play at whisk, Monday three months; for your part, you will divert
yourself with their old taffeties, and tarnished slippers, and their
awkwardness, the first day they go to Court in shifts and clean linen.
Will you ever write to me in my garret at Herrenhausen?'[58] Then upon
this come the contradictions of rumour, the 'general supineness,'
the raising of regiments, and the disaster of Preston Pans, with
its inevitable condemnation of Cope. 'I pity poor him, who, with no
shining abilities, and no experience, and no force, was sent to fight
for a crown! He never saw a battle but that of Dettingen, where he
got his red ribbon; Churchill, whose led-captain he was, and my Lord
Harrington, had pushed him up to this misfortune.[59] We have lost all
our artillery, five hundred men taken--and _three_ killed, and several
officers, as you will see in the papers. This defeat has frightened
everybody but those it rejoices, and those it should frighten most; but
my Lord Granville still buoys up the King's spirits, and persuades him
it is nothing.'[60]
[58] _Walpole to Montagu_, 17 Sept., 1745.
[59] Walpole later revised this verdict: 'General Cope was tried
afterwards for his behaviour in this action, and it appeared very
clearly that the Ministry, his inferior officers, and his troops, were
greatly to blame; and that he did all he could, so ill-directed, so
ill-supplied, and so ill-obeyed.'
[60] _Walpole to Mann_, 27 Sept., 1745.
Nothing, indeed, it proved in the issue. But Walpole was wiser in his
immediate apprehensions than King George's advisers, who were not wise.
In his subsequent letters we get scattered glimpses of the miserable
story that ended in Culloden. Towards the end of October he is auguring
hopefully from the protracted neglect of the rebels to act upon their
success. In November they are in England. But the backwardness of
the Jacobites to join them is already evident, and he writes 'in the
greatest confidence of our getting over this ugly business.' Early in
December they have reached Derby, only to be soon gone again, miserably
harassed, and leaving their sick and cannon behind. With the new year
come tidings to Mann that the rebellion is dying down in England,
and that General Hawley has marched northward to put it quite out.
Once more, on the 23rd February, it flares fitfully at Falkirk, and
then fades as suddenly. The battle that Walpole hourly expects, not
without some trepidation, for Conway is one of the Duke of Cumberland's
aides-de-camp, is still deferred, and it is April before the two armies
face each other on Culloden Moor. Then he writes jubilantly to his
Florentine correspondent: 'On the 16th, the Duke, by forced marches,
came up with the rebels a little on this side Inverness,--by the way,
the battle is not christened yet; I only know that neither Preston Pans
nor Falkirk are to be god-fathers. The rebels, who had fled from him
after their victory [of Falkirk], and durst not attack him, when so
much exposed to them at his passage of the Spey, now stood him, they
seven thousand, he ten. They broke through Barril's regiment and killed
Lord Robert Kerr, a handsome young gentleman, who was cut to pieces
with about thirty wounds; but they were soon repulsed, and fled; the
whole engagement not lasting above a quarter of an hour. The young
Pretender escaped, Mr. Conway says, he hears, wounded: he certainly
was in the rear. They have lost above a thousand men in the engagement
and pursuit; and six hundred were already taken; among which latter
are their French Ambassador and Earl Kilmarnock. The Duke of Perth
and Lord Ogilvie are said to be slain.... Except Lord Robert Kerr, we
lost nobody of note: Sir Robert Rich's eldest son has lost his hand,
and about a hundred and thirty private men fell. The defeat is reckoned
total, and the dispersion general; and all their artillery is taken. It
is a brave young Duke! The town is all blazing round me [_i. e._, at
Arlington Street] as I write, with fireworks and illuminations: I have
some inclination to wrap up half-a-dozen sky-rockets, to make you drink
the Duke's health. Mr. Dodington [in Pall Mall], on the first report,
came out with a very pretty illumination,--so pretty that I believe he
had it by him, ready for _any_ occasion.'[61]
[61] _Walpole to Mann_, 25 April, 1746.
Walpole's account of these occurrences is, of course, hearsay,
although, as regards Culloden, he probably derived the details from
Conway, who was present. But in some of the events which ensued, he is
either actually a spectator himself, or fresh from direct communication
with those who have been spectators. One of the most graphic passages
in his entire correspondence is his description of the trial of the
rebel lords, at which he assisted; and another is his narrative of the
executions of Kilmarnock and Balmerino, written down from the relation
of eye-witnesses. It is hardly possible to get much nearer to history.
'I am this moment come from the conclusion of the greatest and most
melancholy scene I ever yet saw! You will easily guess it was the
Trials of the rebel Lords. As it was the most interesting sight, it
was the most solemn and fine: a coronation is a puppet-show, and all
the splendour of it idle; but this sight at once feasted one's eyes
and engaged all one's passions. It began last Monday; three parts of
Westminster-hall were inclosed with galleries, and hung with scarlet;
and the whole ceremony was conducted with the most awful solemnity
and decency, except in the one point of leaving the prisoners at
the bar, amidst the idle curiosity of some crowd, and even with the
witnesses who had sworn against them, while the Lords adjourned to
their own House to consult. No part of the royal family was there,
which was a proper regard to the unhappy men, who were become their
victims.... I had armed myself with all the resolution I could, with
the thought of their crimes and of the danger past, and was assisted
by the sight of the Marquis of Lothian in weepers for his son [Lord
Robert Kerr], who fell at Culloden; but the first appearance of the
prisoners shocked me! their behaviour melted me.' After going on to
speak of Lord Kilmarnock and Lord Cromartie (afterwards reprieved),
he continues: 'For Lord Balmerino, he is the most natural brave old
fellow I ever saw: the highest intrepidity, even to indifference.
At the bar he behaved like a soldier and a man; in the intervals of
form, with carelessness and humour. He pressed extremely to have his
wife, his pretty Peggy [Margaret Chalmers], with him in the Tower,
Lady Cromartie only sees her husband through the grate, not choosing
to be shut up with him, as she thinks she can serve him better by her
intercession without: she is big with child and very handsome: so
are their daughters. When they were to be brought from the Tower in
separate coaches, there was some dispute in which the axe must go: old
Balmerino cried, 'Come, come, put it with me.' At the bar he plays with
his fingers upon the axe, while he talks to the gentleman-gaoler; and
one day somebody coming up to listen, he took the blade and held it
like a fan between their faces. During the trial, a little boy was near
him, but not tall enough to see; he made room for the child, and placed
him near himself.'[62]
[62] _Walpole to Mann_, 1 Aug., 1746.
Balmerino's gallant demeanour evidently fascinated Walpole. In his
next letter he relates how on his way back to the Tower the sturdy
old dragoon had stopped the coach at Charing Cross to buy some
'honey-blobs' (gooseberries); and when afterwards he comes to write his
account of the execution, although he tells the story of Kilmarnock's
death with feeling, the best passage is given to his companion in
misfortune. He describes how, on the fatal 15th August, before he left
the Tower, Balmerino drank a bumper to King James; how he wore his
rebellious regimentals (blue and red) over a flannel waistcoat and
his shroud; how, embracing Lord Kilmarnock, he said, 'My Lord, I wish
I could suffer for both.' Then followed the beheading of Kilmarnock;
and the narrator goes on: 'The scaffold was immediately new-strewed
with sawdust, the block new covered, the executioner new-dressed, and
a new axe brought. Then came old Balmerino, treading with the air of a
general. As soon as he mounted the scaffold, he read the inscription
on his coffin, as he did again afterwards: he then surveyed the
spectators, who were in amazing numbers, even upon masts upon ships in
the river; and pulling out his spectacles, read a treasonable speech,
which he delivered to the Sheriff, and said, the young Pretender was
so sweet a Prince that flesh and blood could not resist following him;
and lying down to try the block, he said, 'If I had a thousand lives,
I would lay them all down here in the same cause.' He said if he had
not taken the sacrament the day before, he would have knocked down
Williamson, the Lieutenant of the Tower, for his ill-usage of him. He
took the axe and felt it, and asked the headsman how many blows he had
given Lord Kilmarnock; and gave him three guineas. Two clergymen, who
attended him, coming up, he said, 'No, gentlemen, I believe you have
already done me all the service you can.' Then he went to the corner
of the scaffold, and called very loud for the warder, to give him his
perriwig, which he took off, and put on a night-cap of Scotch plaid,
and then pulled off his coat and waistcoat and lay down; but being told
he was on the wrong side, vaulted round, and immediately gave the sign
by tossing up his arm, as if he were giving the signal for battle. He
received three blows; but the first certainly took away all sensation.
He was not a quarter of an hour on the scaffold; Lord Kilmarnock above
half a one. Balmerino certainly died with the intrepidity of a hero,
but the insensibility of one too. As he walked from his prison to
execution, seeing every window and top of house filled with spectators,
he cried out, "Look, look, how they are all piled up like rotten
oranges."'[63]
[63] _Walpole to Mann_, 21 August, 1746. Gray, who was at the trial,
also mentions Balmerino, not so enthusiastically. 'He is an old
soldier-like man, of a vulgar manner and aspect, speaks the broadest
Scotch, and shews an intrepidity, that some ascribe to real courage,
and some to brandy' (_Letter to Wharton_, August). 'Old Balmerino,
when he had read his paper to the people, pulled off his spectacles,
spit upon his handkerchief, and wiped them clean for the use of his
posterity; and that is the last page of his history' (_Letter to
Wharton_, 11 Sept., 1746).
In the old print of the execution, the scaffold on Tower Hill is shown
surrounded by a wide square of dragoons, beyond which the crowd--'the
immense display of human countenances which surrounded it like a sea,'
as Scott has it--are visible on every side. No. 14 Tower Hill is said
to have been the house from which the two lords were led to the block,
and a trail of blood along the hall and up the first flight of stairs
was long shown as indicating the route by which the mutilated bodies
were borne to await interment in St. Peter's Chapel. A few months
later Walpole records the execution in the same place of Simon Fraser,
Lord Lovat, the cunning old Jacobite, whose characteristic attitude
and 'pawky' expression live for ever in the admirable sketch which
Hogarth made of him at St. Albans. He died (says Walpole) 'extremely
well, without passion, affectation, buffoonery, or timidity.' But he is
not so distinguished as either Kilmarnock or Balmerino, and, however
Roman his taking-off, the chief memorable thing about it is, that it
was happily the last of these sanguinary scenes in this country. The
only other incident which it is here needful to chronicle in connection
with the 'Forty Five' is Walpole's verses on the Suppression of the
late Rebellion. On the 4th and 5th November, the anniversaries of
King William's birth and landing, it was the custom to play Rowe's
_Tamerlane_, and this year (1746) the epilogue spoken by Mrs. Pritchard
'in the Character of the Comic Muse' was from Walpole's pen. According
to the writer, special terrors had threatened the stage from the advent
of 'Rome's young missionary spark,' the Chevalier, and the Tragic
Muse, raising, 'to eyes well-tutor'd in the trade of grief,' 'a small
and well-lac'd handkerchief,' is represented by her lighter sister as
bewailing the prospect to her 'buskined progeny' after this fashion:--
'Ah! sons, our dawn is over-cast; and all
Theatric glories nodding to their fall.
From foreign realms a bloody chief is come,
Big with the work of slav'ry and of Rome.
A general ruin on his sword he wears,
Fatal alike to audience and to play'rs.
For ah! my sons, what freedom for the stage
When bigotry with sense shall battle wage?
When monkish laureats only wear the bays,
Inquisitors lord chamberlains of plays?
Plays shall be damn'd that 'scap'd the critic's rage,
For priests are still worse tyrants to the stage.
Cato, receiv'd by audiences so gracious,
Shall find ten Cæsars in one St. Ignatius,
And god-like Brutus here shall meet again
His evil genius in a capuchin.
For heresy the fav'rites of the pit
Must burn, and excommunicated wit;
And at one stake, we shall behold expire
My Anna Bullen, and the Spanish Fryar.'[64]
[64] Walpole's _Works_, 1798, i. 25-7.
After this the epilogue digresses into a comparison of the Duke of
Cumberland with King William. Virgil, Juvenal, Addison, Dryden, and
Pope, upon one of whose lines on Cibber Walpole bases his reference
to the Lord Chamberlain, are all laid under contribution in this
performance. It 'succeeded to flatter me,' he tells Mann a few days
later,--a Gallicism from which we must infer an enthusiastic reception.
Walpole's personal and domestic history does not present much interest
at this period. His sister Mary (Catherine Shorter's daughter), who
had married the third Earl of Cholmondeley, had died long before her
mother. In February, 1746, his half-sister, Lady Mary, his playmate at
comet in the Houghton days, married Mr. Churchill,--'a foolish match,'
in Horace's opinion, to which he will have nothing to say. With his
second brother, Sir Edward Walpole, he seems to have had but little
intercourse, and that scarcely of a fraternal character. In 1857,
Cunningham published for the first time a very angry letter from Edward
to his junior, in which the latter was bitterly reproached for his
interference in disposing of the family borough of Castle Rising, and
(incidentally) for his assumption of superiority, mental and otherwise.
To this communication Walpole prepared a most caustic and categorical
answer, which, however, he never sent. For his nieces, Edward Walpole's
natural daughters, of whom it will be more convenient to speak later,
Horace seems always to have felt a sincere regard. But although his
brother had tastes which must have been akin to his own, for Edward
Walpole was in his way an art patron (Roubillac the sculptor, for
instance, was much indebted to him) and a respectable musician, no
real cordiality ever existed between them. 'There is nothing in the
world'--he tells Montagu in May, 1745--'the Baron of Englefield has
such an aversion for as for his brother.'[65]
[65] Englefield, _i. e._ Englefield Green, in Berkshire, on the summit
of Cooper's Hill, near Windsor, where Edward Walpole lived.
For his eldest brother's wife, the Lady Walpole who had formed one
of the learned trio at Florence, he entertained no kind of respect,
and his letters are full of flouts at her Ladyship's manners and
morality. Indeed, between _préciosité_ and 'Platonic love,' her life
does not appear to have been a particularly worshipful one, and her
long sojourn under Italian skies had not improved her. At present
she was Lady Orford, her husband, who is seldom mentioned, and from
whom she had been living apart, having succeeded to the title at his
father's death. From Walpole's letters to Mann, it seems that in April,
1745, she was, much to the dismay of her relatives, already preening
her wings for England. In September, she has arrived, and Walpole is
maliciously delighted at the cold welcome she obtains from the Court
and from society in general, with the exception of her old colleague,
Lady Pomfret, and that in one sense congenial spirit, Lady Townshend.
Later on, a definite separation from her husband appears to have
been agreed upon, which Walpole fondly hopes may have the effect of
bringing about her departure for Italy. 'The Ladies O[rford] and
T[ownshend]'--he says--'have exhausted scandal both in their persons
and conversations.' However much this may be exaggerated (and Walpole
never spares his antipathies), the last we hear of Lady Orford is
certainly on his side, for she has retired from town to a villa near
Richmond with a lover for whom she has postponed that southward flight
which her family so ardently desired. This fortunate Endymion, the Hon.
Sewallis Shirley, son of Robert, first Earl Ferrers, had already been
one of the most favoured lovers of the notorious 'lady of quality'
whose memoirs were afterwards foisted into _Peregrine Pickle_. To Lady
Vane now succeeded Lady Orford, as eminent for wealth--says sarcastic
Lady Mary Wortley Montagu--as her predecessor had been for beauty,
and equal in her 'heroic contempt for shame.' This new connection was
destined to endure. It was in September, 1746, that Walpole chronicled
his sister-in-law's latest frailty, and in May, 1751, only a few
weeks after her husband's death,[66] she married Shirley at the Rev.
Alexander Keith's convenient little chapel in May Fair.'
[66] Robert Walpole, second Earl of Orford, Horace Walpole's eldest
brother, died in March, 1751.
In 1744, died Alexander Pope, to be followed a year later by the great
Dean of St. Patrick's. Neither of these events leaves any lasting
mark in Walpole's correspondence,--indeed of Swift's death there is
no mention at all. A nearer bereavement was the premature loss of
West, which had taken place two years before, closing sorrowfully with
faint accomplishment a life of promise. _Vale, et vive paulisper cum
vivis_,--he had written a few days earlier to Gray,--his friend to the
last. With Gray, Walpole's friendship, as will be seen presently, had
been resumed. His own literary essays still lie chiefly in the domain
of squib and _jeu d'esprit_. In April, 1746, over the appropriate
signature of 'Descartes,' he printed in No. II. of _The Museum_ a
'Scheme for Raising a Large Sum of Money for the Use of the Government,
by laying a tax on Message-Cards and Notes,' and in No. V. a pretended
Advertisement and Table of Contents for a _History of Good Breeding,
from the Creation of the World_, by the Author of the Whole Duty of
Man. The wit of this is a little laboured, and scarcely goes beyond the
announcement that 'The Eight last Volumes, which relate to _Germany_,
may be had separate;' nor does that of the other exceed a mild
reflection of Fielding's manner in some of his minor pieces. Among
other things, we gather that it was the custom of the fine ladies of
the day to send open messages on blank playing-cards; and it is stated
as a fact or a fancy that 'after the fatal day of Fontenoy,' persons
of quality 'all wrote their notes on Indian paper, which, being red,
when inscribed with Japan ink made a melancholy military kind of elegy
on the brave youths who occasioned the fashion, and were often the
honourable subject of the epistle.' The only remaining effort of any
importance at this time is the little poem of _The Beauties_, somewhat
recalling Gay's Prologue to the _Shepherd's Week_, and written in July,
1746, to Eckardt the painter. Here is a specimen:--
In smiling CAPEL'S bounteous look
Rich autumn's goddess is mistook.
With poppies and with spiky corn,
Eckardt, her nut-brown curls adorn;
And by her side, in decent line,
Place charming BERKELEY, Proserpine.
Mild as a summer sea, serene,
In dimpled beauty next be seen
AYLESB'RY, like hoary Neptune's queen.
With her the light-dispensing fair,
Whose beauty gilds the morning air,
And bright as her attendant sun,
The new Aurora, LYTTELTON.
Such Guido's pencil, beauty-tip'd,
And in ethereal colours dip'd,
In measur'd dance to tuneful song
Drew the sweet goddess, as along
Heaven's azure 'neath their light feet spread,
The buxom hours the fairest led.'[67]
[67] Walpole's _Works_ 1798, i. 21-2.
'Charming Berkeley,' here mentioned, afterwards became the third wife
of Goldsmith's friend, Earl Nugent, and the mother of the little girl
who played tricks upon the author of _She Stoops to Conquer_ at her
father's country seat of Gosfield; 'Aylesb'ry, like hoary Neptune's
queen,' married Walpole's friend, Conway, and 'the new Aurora,
Lyttelton,' was that engaging Lucy Fortescue upon whose death in 1747
her husband wrote the monody so pitilessly parodied by Smollett.[68]
Lady Almeria Carpenter, Lady Emily Lenox, Miss Chudleigh (afterwards
the notorious Duchess of Kingston), and many other well-known names,
_quos nunc perscribere longum est_, are also celebrated.
[68] Writing to Walpole in March, 1751, Gray says: 'In the last volume
[of _Peregrine Pickle_] is a character of Mr. Lyttleton [_sic_], under
the name of "Gosling Scrag," and a parody of part of his Monody, under
the notion of a Pastoral on the death of his grandmother' (_Works_ by
Gosse, 1884, ii. 214).
In August, 1746, Walpole announces to Mann that he has taken a pretty
house within the precincts of the castle at Windsor, to which he is
going for the remainder of the summer. In September he has entered
upon residence, for Gray tells Wharton that he sees him 'usually once
a week.' 'All is mighty free, and even friendly more than one could
expect,'--and one of the first things posted off to Conway, is Gray's
_Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College_, which the sender desires
he 'will please to like excessively.' He is drawn from his retreat by
the arrival of a young Florentine friend, the Marquis Rinuncini, to
whom he has to do the London honours. 'I stayed literally an entire
week with him, carried him to see palaces and Richmond gardens and
park, and Chenevix's shop, and talked a great deal to him _alle
conversazioni_.'[69] 'Chenevix's shop' suggests the main subject of the
next chapter,--the purchase and occupation of Strawberry Hill.
[69] _Walpole to Mann_ 15 Sept., 1746.
CHAPTER V.
The New House at Twickenham.--Its First Tenants.--Christened
'Strawberry Hill.'--Planting and Embellishing.--Fresh
Additions.--Walpole's Description of it in 1753.--Visitors and
Admirers.--Lord Bath's Verses.--Some Rival Mansions.--Minor
Literature.--Robbed by James Maclean.--Sequel from _The World_.--The
Maclean Mania.--High Life at Vauxhall.--Contributions to _The
World_.--Theodore of Corsica.--Reconciliation with Gray.--Stimulates
his Works.--The _Poëmata-Grayo-Bentleiana_.--Richard Bentley.--Müntz
the Artist.--Dwellers at Twickenham.--Lady Suffolk and Mrs. Clive.
On the 5th of June, 1747, Walpole announces to Mann that he has taken
a little new farm, just out of Twickenham. 'The house is so small
that I can send it to you in a letter to look at: the prospect is as
delightful as possible, commanding the river, the town [Twickenham],
and Richmond Park; and, being situated on a hill, descends to the
Thames through two or three little meadows, where I have some Turkish
sheep and two cows, all studied in their colours for becoming the
view. This little rural _bijou_ was Mrs. Chenevix's, the toy woman _à
la mode_,[70] who in every dry season is to furnish me with the best
rain water from Paris, and now and then with some Dresden-china cows,
who are to figure like wooden classics in a library; so I shall grow as
much a shepherd as any swain in the Astræa.' Three days later, further
details are added in a letter to Conway, then in Flanders with the Duke
of Cumberland: 'You perceive by my date [Twickenham, 8 June] that I am
got into a new camp, and have left my tub at Windsor. It is a little
play-thing-house, that I got out of Mrs. Chenevix's shop, and is the
prettiest bauble you ever saw. It is set in enamelled meadows, with
filagree hedges:
'"A small Euphrates through the piece is roll'd,
And little finches wave their wings in gold."'[71]
[70] She was the sister of Pope's Mrs. Bertrand, an equally fashionable
toy-woman at Bath. Her shop, according to an advertisement in the
_Daily Journal_ for May 24, 1733, was then 'against Suffolk Street,
Charing Cross.' It is mentioned in Fielding's _Amelia_. When, in Bk.
viii., ch. i., Mr. Bondum the bailiff contrives to capture Captain
Booth, it is by a false report that his Lady has been 'taken violently
ill, and carried into Mrs. _Chenevix's_ Toy-shop.' It is also mentioned
in the Hon. Mrs. Osborne's _Letters_, 1891, p. 73; and again by Walpole
himself in the _World_ for 19 Dec., 1754.
[71] This is slightly varied from ll. 29, 30, of Pope's fifth _Moral
Essay_ ('To Mr. Addison: Occasioned by his Dialogues on Medals').
'Two delightful roads, that you would call dusty, supply me continually
with coaches and chaises; barges as solemn as Barons of the Exchequer
move under my window; Richmond Hill and Ham Walks bound my prospect;
... Dowagers as plenty as flounders inhabit all around, and Pope's
ghost is just now skimming under my window by a most poetical
moonlight. I have about land enough to keep such a farm as Noah's, when
he set up in the ark with a pair of each kind; but my cottage is rather
cleaner than I believe his was after they had been cooped up together
forty days. The Chenevixes had tricked it out for themselves: up two
pair of stairs is what they call Mr. Chenevix's library, furnished
with three maps, one shelf, a bust of Sir Isaac Newton, and a lame
telescope without any glasses. Lord John Sackville _predecessed_ me
here, and instituted certain games called _cricketalia_, which have
been celebrated this very evening in honour of him in a neighbouring
meadow.'[72]
[72] _Walpole to Conway_, 8 June, 1747.
The house thus whimsically described, which grew into the Gothic
structure afterwards so closely associated with its owner's name, was
not, even at this date, without its history. It stood on the left bank
of the Thames, at the corner of the Upper Road to Teddington, not
very far from Twickenham itself. It had been built about 1698 as a
'country box' by a retired coachman of the Earl of Bradford, and, from
the fact that he was supposed to have acquired his means by starving
his master's horses, was known popularly as Chopped-Straw Hall. Its
earliest possessor not long afterwards let it out as a lodging-house,
and finally, after several improvements, sub-let it altogether. One
of its first tenants was Colley Cibber, who found it convenient when
he was in attendance for acting at Hampton Court; and he is said to
have written in it the comedy called _The Refusal; or, the Ladies'
Philosophy_, produced at Drury Lane in 1721. Then, for eight years, it
was rented by the Bishop of Durham, Dr. Talbot, who was reported to
have kept in it a better table than the extent of its kitchen seemed,
in Walpole's judgement, to justify. After the Bishop came a Marquis,
Henry Bridges, son of the Duke of Chandos; after the Marquis, Mrs.
Chenevix, the toy-woman, who, upon her husband's death, let it for
two years to the nobleman who _predecessed_ Walpole, Lord John Philip
Sackville. Before this, Mrs. Chenevix had taken lodgers, one of whom
was the celebrated theologian, Père Le Courrayer. At the expiration
of Lord John Sackville's tenancy, Walpole took the remainder of Mrs.
Chenevix's lease; and in 1748 had grown to like the situation so much
that he obtained a special act to purchase the fee simple from the
existing possessors, three minors of the name of Mortimer. The price
he paid was £1356 10_s._ Nothing was then wanting but the name, and in
looking over some old deeds this was supplied. He found that the ground
on which it stood had been known originally as 'Strawberry-Hill-Shot.'
'You shall hear from me,' he tells Mann in June, 1748, 'from STRAWBERRY
HILL, which I have found out in my lease is the old name of my house;
so pray, never call it Twickenham again.'
The transformation of the toy-woman's 'villakin' into a Gothic
residence was not, however, the operation of a day. Indeed, at first,
the idea of rebuilding does not seem to have entered its new owner's
mind. But he speedily set about extending his boundaries, for before 26
December, 1748, he has added nine acres to his original five, making
fourteen in all,--a 'territory prodigious in a situation where land
is so scarce.' Among the tenants of some of the buildings which he
acquired in making these additions was Richard Francklin, the printer
of the _Craftsman_, who, during Sir Robert Walpole's administration,
had been taken up for printing that paper. He occupied a small house in
what was afterwards known as the Flower Garden, and Walpole permitted
him to retain it during his lifetime. Walpole's letters towards the
close of 1748 contain numerous references to his assiduity in planting.
'My present and sole occupation' he says in August, 'is planting, in
which I have made great progress, and talk very learnedly with the
nurserymen, except that now and then a lettuce run to seed overturns
all my botany, as I have more than once taken it for a curious West
Indian flowering shrub. Then the deliberation with which trees grow
is extremely inconvenient to my natural impatience.' Two months later
he is 'all plantation, and sprouts away like any chaste nymph in
the _Metamorphosis_.' In December, we begin to hear of that famous
lawn so well known in the later history of the house. He is 'making
a terrace the whole breadth of his garden on the brow of a natural
hill, with meadows at the foot, and commanding the river, the village
[Twickenham], Richmond-hill, and the park, and part of Kingston' A year
after this (September, 1749), while he is still 'digging and planting
till it is dark,' come the first dreams of building. At Cheney's, in
Buckinghamshire, he has seen some old stained glass, in the windows of
an ancient house which had been degraded into a farm, and he thinks
he will beg it of the Duke of Bedford (to whom the farm belongs), as
it would be 'magnificent for Strawberry-castle.' Evidently he has
discussed this (as yet) _château en Espagne_ with Montagu. 'Did I tell
you [he says] that I have found a text in Deuteronomy to authorise my
future battlements? "When thou buildest a new house, then shalt thou
make a battlement for thy roof, that thou bring not blood upon thy
house, if any man fall from thence."' In January, the new building is
an established fact, as far as purpose is concerned. In a postscript to
Mann he writes: 'I must trouble you with a commission, which I don't
know whether you can execute. _I am going to build a little gothic
castle at Strawberry Hill._ If you can pick me up any fragments of old
painted glass, arms, or anything, I shall be excessively obliged to
you. I can't say I remember any such things in Italy; but out of old
chateaus, I imagine, one might get it cheap, if there is any.'
From a subsequent letter it would seem that Mann, as a resident in
Italy, had rather expostulated against the style of architecture which
his friend was about to adopt, and had suggested the Grecian. But
Walpole, rightly or wrongly, knew what he intended. 'The Grecian,' he
said, was 'only proper for magnificent and public buildings. Columns
and all their beautiful ornaments look ridiculous when crowded into
a closet or a cheesecake-house. The variety is little, and admits no
charming irregularities. I am almost as fond of the _Sharawaggi_, or
Chinese want of symmetry, in buildings, as in grounds or gardens.
I am sure, whenever you come to England, you will be pleased with
the liberty of taste into which we are struck, and of which you can
have no idea.' The passage shows that he himself anticipated some
of the ridicule which was levelled by unsympathetic people at the
'oyster-grotto-like profanation' which he gradually erected by the
Thames. In the mean time it went on progressing slowly, as its progress
was entirely dependent on his savings out of income; and the references
to it in his letters, perhaps because Mann was doubtful, are not
abundant. 'The library and refectory, or great parlour,' he says in
his description, 'were entirely new built in 1753; the gallery, round
tower, great cloyster, and cabinet, in 1760 and 1761; and the great
north bedchamber in 1770.' To speak of these later alterations would
be to anticipate too much, and the further description of Strawberry
Hill will be best deferred until his own account of the house and
contents was printed in 1774, four years after the last addition above
recorded. But even before he made the earliest of them, he must have
done much to alter and improve the aspect of the place, for Gray, more
admiring than Mann, praises what has been done. 'I am glad,' he tells
Wharton, 'that you enter into the spirit of Strawberry-castle. It has
a purity and propriety of Gothicism in it (with very few exceptions)
that I have not seen elsewhere;' and in an earlier letter he implies
that its 'extreme littleness' is its chief defect. But here, before
for the moment leaving the subject, it is only fair to give the
proprietor's own description of Strawberry Hill at this date, _i. e._,
in June, 1753. After telling Mann that it is 'so monastic' that he
has 'a little hall decked with long saints in lean arched windows and
with taper columns, which we call the Paraclete, in memory of Eloisa's
cloister,'[73] he sends him a sketch of it, and goes on: 'The enclosed
enchanted little landscape, then, is Strawberry Hill.... This view of
the castle is what I have just finished [it was a view of the south
side, towards the north-east], and is the only side that will be at all
regular. Directly before it is an open grove, through which you see a
field, which is bounded by a serpentine wood of all kind of trees, and
flowering shrubs, and flowers. The lawn before the house is situated
on the top of a small hill, from whence to the left you see the town
and church of Twickenham encircling a turn of the river, that looks
exactly like a sea-port in miniature. The opposite shore is a most
delicious meadow, bounded by Richmond Hill, which loses itself in the
noble woods of the park to the end of the prospect on the right, where
is another turn of the river, and the suburbs of Kingston as luckily
placed as Twickenham is on the left: and a natural terrace on the brow
of my hill, with meadows of my own down to the river, commands both
extremities. Is not this a tolerable prospect? You must figure that
all this is perpetually enlivened by a navigation of boats and barges,
and by a road below my terrace, with coaches, post-chaises, waggons,
and horsemen constantly in motion, and the fields speckled with cows,
horses, and sheep. Now you shall walk into the house. The bow window
below leads into a little parlour hung with a stone-colour Gothic paper
and Jackson's Venetian prints,[74] which I could never endure while
they pretended, infamous as they are, to be after Titian, etc., but
when I gave them this air of barbarous bas-reliefs, they succeeded to
a miracle: it is impossible at first sight not to conclude that they
contain the history of Attila or Tottila done about the very æra. From
hence, under two gloomy arches, you come to the hall and staircase,
which it is impossible to describe to you, as it is the most particular
and chief beauty of the castle. Imagine the walls covered with (I call
it paper, but it is really paper painted in perspective to represent)
Gothic fretwork: the lightest Gothic balustrade to the staircase,
adorned with antelopes (our supporters) bearing shields; lean windows
fattened with rich saints in painted glass, and a vestibule open with
three arches on the landing place, and niches full of trophies of old
coats of mail, Indian shields made of rhinoceros's hides, broadswords,
quivers, long-bows, arrows, and spears,--all _supposed_ to be taken
by Sir Terry Robsart [an ancestor of Sir Robert Walpole] in the holy
wars. But as none of this regards the enclosed drawing, I will pass
to that. The room on the ground floor nearest to you is a bedchamber,
hung with yellow paper and prints, framed in a new manner, invented
by Lord Cardigan; that is, with black and white borders printed. Over
this is Mr. Chute's bed-chamber, hung with red in the same manner. The
bow-window room one pair of stairs is not yet finished; but in the
tower beyond it is the charming closet where I am now writing to you.
It is hung with green paper and water-colour pictures; has two windows:
the one in the drawing looks to the garden, the other to the beautiful
prospect; and the top of each glutted with the richest painted glass
of the arms of England, crimson roses, and twenty other pieces of
green, purple, and historic bits. I must tell you, by the way, that the
castle, when finished, will have two-and-thirty windows enriched with
painted glass. In this closet, which is Mr. Chute's College of Arms,
are two presses of books of heraldry and antiquities, Madame Sévigné's
Letters, and any French books that relate to her and her acquaintance.
Out of this closet is the room where we always live, hung with a blue
and white paper in stripes adorned with festoons, and a thousand plump
chairs, couches, and luxurious settees covered with linen of the same
pattern, and with a bow window commanding the prospect, and gloomed
with limes that shade half each window, already darkened with painted
glass in chiaroscuro, set in deep blue glass. Under this room is a cool
little hall, where we generally dine, hung with paper to imitate Dutch
tiles.
[73] In the Tribune (see chap. viii.) was a drawing by Mr. Bentley,
representing two lovers in a church looking at the tombs of Abelard and
Eloisa, and illustrating Pope's lines:--
'If ever chance two wand'ring lovers brings
To Paraclete's white walls and silver springs,' etc.
[74] The chiaroscuros of John Baptist Jackson, published at Venice in
1742. At this date he had returned to England, and was working in a
paper-hanging manufactory at Battersea.
'I have described so much that you will begin to think that all the
accounts I used to give you of the diminutiveness of our habitation
were fabulous; but it is really incredible how small most of the rooms
are. The only two good chambers I shall have are not yet built: they
will be an eating-room and a library, each twenty by thirty, and the
latter fifteen feet high. For the rest of the house, I could send it to
you in this letter as easily as the drawing, only that I should have
nowhere to live until the return of the post. The Chinese summer-house,
which you may distinguish in the distant landscape, belongs to my Lord
Radnor.[75] We pique ourselves upon nothing but simplicity, and have
no carvings, gildings, paintings, inlayings, or tawdry businesses.'[76]
[75] Lord Radnor's fantastic house on the river, which Walpole
nicknamed Mabland, came between Strawberry Hill and Pope's Villa, and
is a conspicuous object in old views of Twickenham, notably in that,
dated 1757, by Müntz, a Jersey artist for some time domiciled at
Strawberry Hill (_see_ p. 138). It was in the garden of Radnor House
that Pope first met Warburton.
[76] _Walpole to Mann_, 12 June, 1753.
From this it will appear that in June, 1753, the library and refectory
were not yet built, so that when he says, in the printed description,
that they were new built in 1753, he must mean no more than that they
had been begun. In a later letter, of May, 1754, they were still
unfinished. Meanwhile the house is gradually attracting more and more
attention. George Montagu comes, and is 'in raptures and screams,
and hoops, and hollas, and dances, and crosses himself a thousand
times over.' The next visitor is 'Nolkejumskoi,'--otherwise the Duke
of Cumberland,--who inspects it much after the fashion of a gracious
Gulliver surveying a castle in Lilliput. Afterwards, attracted by the
reports of Lady Hervey and Mr. Bristow (brother of the Countess of
Buckingham), arrives my Lord Bath, who is stirred into celebrating
it to the tune of a song of Bubb Dodington on Mrs. Strawbridge. His
Lordship does not seem to have got further than two stanzas; but
Walpole, not to leave so complimentary a tribute in the depressed
condition of a fragment, discreetly revised and completed it himself.
The lines may fairly find a place here as an example of his lighter
muse. The first and third verses are Lord Bath's, the rest being
obviously written in order to bring in 'Nolkejumskoi' and some personal
friends:--
'Some cry up Gunnersbury,
For Sion some declare;
And some say that with Chiswick-house
No villa can compare:
But ask the beaux of Middlesex,
Who know the county well,
If Strawb'ry-hill, if Strawb'ry-hill
Don't bear away the bell?
'Some love to roll down Greenwich-hill
For this thing and for that;
And some prefer sweet Marble-hill,
Tho' sure 'tis somewhat flat:
Yet Marble-hill and Greenwich-hill,
If Kitty Clive can tell,
From Strawb'ry-hill, from Strawb'ry-hill
Will never bear the bell.
'Tho' Surrey boasts its Oatlands,
And Clermont kept so jim,
And some prefer sweet Southcote's,
'Tis but a dainty whim;
For ask the gallant Bristow,
Who does in taste excell,
If Strawb'ry-hill, if Strawb'ry-hill
Don't bear away the bell
'Since Denham sung of Cooper's,
There's scarce a hill around,
But what in song or ditty
Is turn'd to fairy-ground,--
Ah, peace be with their memories!
I wish them wond'rous well;
But Strawb'ry-hill, but Strawb'ry-hill
Must bear away the bell.
'Great William dwells at Windsor,
As Edward did of old;
And many a Gaul and many a Scot
Have found him full as bold.
On lofty hills like Windsor
Such heroes ought to dwell;
Yet little folks like Strawb'ry-hill,
Like Strawb'ry-hill as well.'[77]
[77] The version here followed is that given in _A Description of the
Villa_, etc., 1774, pp. 117-19.
Cumberland Lodge, where, say the old guide-books, the hero of Culloden
'reposed after victory,' still stands on the hill at the end of the
Long Walk at Windsor; and at 'Gunnersbury' lived the Princess Amelia.
All the other houses referred to are in existence. 'Sweet Marble-hill,'
which, like Strawberry, was not long ago put up for sale, had at this
date for mistress the Countess Dowager of Suffolk (Mrs. Howard), for
whom it had been built by her royal lover, George II.; and Chiswick
House, (now the Marquis of Bute's), that famous structure of Kent which
Lord Hervey said was 'too small to inhabit, and too large to hang
to one's watch,' was the residence of Richard, Earl of Burlington.
Claremont 'kept so jim' [neat], was the seat of the Duke of Newcastle
at Esher; Oatlands, near Weybridge, belonged to the Duke of York, and
Sion House, on the Thames, to the Duke of Northumberland. Walpole and
his friends, it will be perceived, did not shrink from comparing small
things with great. But perhaps the most notable circumstance about this
glorification of Strawberry is that it should have originated with its
reputed author. 'Can there be,' says Walpole, 'an odder revolution
of things, than that the printer of the _Craftsman_ should live in a
house of mine, and that the author of the _Craftsman_ should write
a panegyric on a house of mine?' The printer was Richard Francklin,
already mentioned as his tenant; and Lord Bath, if not the actual, was
at least the putative, writer of most of the _Craftsman's_ attacks upon
Sir Robert Walpole. It is possible, however, that, as with the poem,
part only of this honour really belonged to him.
Strawberry Hill and its improvements have, however, carried us far
from the date at which this chapter begins, and we must return to
1747. Happily the life of Walpole, though voluminously chronicled in
his correspondence, is not so crowded with personal incident as to
make a space of six years a serious matter to recover, especially
when tested by the brief but still very detailed record in the _Short
Notes_ of what he held to be its conspicuous occurrences. In 1747-49
his zeal for his father's memory involved him in a good deal of party
pamphleteering, and in 1749, he had what he styles 'a remarkable
quarrel' with the Speaker, of which one may say that, in these days,
it would scarcely deserve its qualifying epithet, although it produced
more paper war. 'These things [he says himself] were only excusable
by the lengths to which party had been carried against my father; or
rather, were not excusable even then.' For this reason it is needless
to dwell upon them here, as well as upon certain other papers in _The
Remembrancer_ for 1749, and a tract called _Delenda est Oxonia_,
prompted by a heinous scheme, which was meditated by the Ministry, of
attacking the liberties of that University by vesting in the Crown the
nomination of the Chancellor. This piece [he says], which I think
one of my best, was seized at the printer's and suppressed.' Then in
November, 1749, comes something like a really 'moving incident,'--he
is robbed in Hyde Park. He was returning by moonlight to Arlington
Street from Lord Holland's, when his coach was stopped by two of the
most notorious of 'Diana's foresters,'--Plunket and James Maclean;
and the adventure had all but a tragic termination. Maclean's pistol
went off by accident, sending a bullet so nearly through Walpole's
head that it grazed the skin under his eye, stunned him, and passed
through the roof of the chariot. His correspondence contains no more
than a passing reference to this narrow escape,--probably because it
was amply reported (and expanded) in the public prints. But in a paper
which he contributed to the _World_ a year or two later, under guise
of relating what had happened to one of his acquaintance, he reverts
to this experience. 'The whole affair [he says] was conducted with the
greatest good-breeding on both sides. The robber, who had only taken
a purse _this way_, because he had that morning been disappointed of
marrying a great fortune, no sooner returned to his lodgings, than he
sent the gentleman [_i. e._, Walpole himself] two letters of excuses,
which, with less wit than the epistles of Voiture, had ten times more
natural and easy politeness in the turn of their expression. In the
postscript, he appointed a meeting at Tyburn at twelve at night, where
the gentleman might _purchase again_ any trifles he had lost; and my
friend has been blamed for not accepting the rendezvous, as it seemed
liable to be construed by ill-natured people into a doubt of the
_honour_ of a man who had given him all the satisfaction in his power
for having _unluckily_ been near shooting him through the head.'[78]
[78] _World_, 19 Dec., 1754 (_Works_, 1798, i. 177-8).
The 'fashionable highwayman' (as Mr. Maclean was called) was taken soon
afterwards, and hanged. 'I am honourably mentioned in a Grub-street
ballad [says Walpole] for not having contributed to his sentence;' and
he goes on to say that there are as many prints and pamphlets about
him as about that other sensation of 1750, the earthquake. Maclean
seems nevertheless to have been rather a pinchbeck Macheath; but for
the moment, in default of larger lions, he was the rage. After his
condemnation, several thousand people visited him in his cell at
Newgate where he is stated to have fainted twice from the heat and
pressure of the crowd. And his visitors were not all men. In a note to
_The Modern Fine Lady_, Soame Jenyns says that some of the brightest
eyes were in tears for him; and Walpole himself tells us that he
excited the warmest commiseration in two distinguished beauties of the
day, Lady Caroline Petersham and Miss Ashe.[79]
[79] Another instance of Maclean's momentary vogue is given by
Cunningham. He is hitched into Gray's _Long Story_, which was written
at the very time he was taken:
'A sudden fit of ague shook him,
He stood as mute as poor _Macleane_.'
This couplet has been recently explained by Gray's latest editor, Dr.
Bradshaw, to be a reference to Maclean's only observation when called
to receive sentence. 'My Lord [he said], I _cannot speak_.'
Miss Ashe, of whom we are told mysteriously by the commentators that
she 'was said to have been of very high parentage,' and Lady Caroline
Petersham, a daughter of the Duke of Grafton, figure more pleasantly
in another letter of Walpole, which gives a glimpse of some of those
diversions with which he was wont to relieve the gothicising of his
villa by the Thames. In a sentence that proves how well he understood
his own qualities, he says he tells the story 'to show the manners of
the age, which are always as entertaining to a person fifty miles off
as to one born an hundred and fifty years after the time.' We have
not yet reached the later limit; but there is little doubt as to the
interest of Walpole's account of his visit in the month of June, 1750,
to the famous gardens of Mr. Jonathan Tyers. He got a card, he says,
from Lady Caroline to go with her to Vauxhall. He repairs accordingly
to her house, and finds her 'and the little Ashe, or the Pollard Ashe,
as they call her,' having 'just finished their last layer of red, and
looking as handsome as crimson could make them.' Others of the party
are the Duke of Kingston; Lord March, of Thackeray's _Virginians_;
Harry Vane, soon to be Earl of Darlington; Mr. Whitehead; a 'pretty
Miss Beauclerc,' and a 'very foolish Miss Sparre.' As they sail up the
Mall, they encounter cross-grained Lord Petersham (my lady's husband)
shambling along after his wont,[80] and 'as sulky as a ghost that
nobody will speak to first.' He declines to accompany his wife and her
friends, who, getting into the best order they can, march to their
barge, which has a boat of French horns attending, and 'little Ashe'
sings. After parading up the river, they 'debark' at Vauxhall, where
at the outset they narrowly escape the excitement of a quarrel. For
a certain Mrs. Lloyd, of Spring Gardens, afterwards married to Lord
Haddington, observing Miss Beauclerc and her companion following Lady
Caroline, says audibly, 'Poor girls, I am sorry to see them in such
bad company,'--a remark which the 'foolish Miss Sparre' (she is but
fifteen), for the fun of witnessing a duel, endeavours to make Lord
March resent. But my Lord, who is not only 'very lively and agreeable,'
but also of a nice discretion, laughs her out of 'this charming frolic,
with a great deal of humour.' Next they pick up Lord Granby, arriving
very drunk from 'Jenny's Whim,' at Chelsea, where he has left a mixed
gathering of thirteen persons of quality playing at Brag. He is in the
sentimental stage of his malady, and makes love to Miss Beauclerc and
Miss Sparre alternately, until the tide of champagne turns, and he
remembers that he is married. 'At last,' says Walpole,--and at this
point the story may be surrendered to him entirely,--'we assembled
in our booth, Lady Caroline in the front, with the visor of her hat
erect, and looking gloriously jolly and handsome. She had fetched my
brother Orford from the next box, where he was enjoying himself with
his _petite partie_, to help us to mince chickens. We minced seven
chickens into a china dish, which Lady Caroline stewed over a lamp with
three pats of butter and a flagon of water, stirring and rattling and
laughing, and we every minute expecting to have the dish fly about
our ears. She had brought Betty, the fruit girl,[81] with hampers of
strawberries and cherries from Rogers's, and made her wait upon us,
and then made her sup by us at a little table. The conversation was
no less lively than the whole transaction. There was a Mr. O'Brien
arrived from Ireland, who would get the Duchess of Manchester from Mr.
Hussey, if she were still at liberty. I took up the biggest hautboy
in the dish, and said to Lady Caroline, "Madam, Miss Ashe desires you
would eat this O'Brien strawberry;" she replied immediately, "I won't,
you hussey." You may imagine the laugh this reply occasioned. After
the tempest was a little calmed, the Pollard said, "Now, how anybody
would spoil this story that was to repeat it, and say, "I won't, you
jade." In short, the whole air of our party was sufficient, as you will
easily imagine, to take up the whole attention of the garden; so much
so that from eleven o'clock till half an hour after one we had the
whole concourse round our booth: at last, they came into the little
gardens of each booth on the sides of our's, till Harry Vane took up a
bumper, and drank their healths, and was proceeding to treat them with
still greater freedom. It was three o'clock before we got home.' He
adds a characteristic touch to explain Lord Granby's eccentricities. He
had lost eight hundred pounds to the Prince of Wales at Kew the night
before, and this had a 'little ruffled' his lordship's temper.[82]
[80] He was popularly known as 'Peter Shamble.' He afterwards became
Earl of Harrington.
[81] Elizabeth Neale, here referred to, was a well-known personage
in St. James's Street, where, for many years, she kept a fruit shop.
From Lady Mary Coke's _Letters and Journals_, 1889, vol. ii., p. 427,
Betty appears to have assiduously attended the debates in the House
of Commons being characterized as a 'violent Politician, & always in
the opposition.' In Mason's _Heroic Epistle to Sir William Chambers,
Knight_, she is spoken of as 'Patriot Betty.' She survived until 1797,
when her death, at the age of 67, is recorded in the _Gentleman's
Magazine_.
[82] _Walpole to Montagu_, 23 June, 1750.
Early in 1753, Edward Moore, the author of some _Fables for the Female
Sex_, once popular enough to figure, between Thomson and Prior, in
Goldsmith's _Beauties of English Poesy_, established the periodical
paper called _The World_, which, to quote a latter-day definition,
might fairly claim to be 'written by gentlemen for gentlemen.'
Soame Jenyns, Cambridge of the _Scribleriad_ (Walpole's Twickenham
neighbour), Hamilton Boyle, Sir Charles Hanbury Williams, and Lord
Chesterfield were all contributors. That Walpole should also attempt
this 'bow of Ulysses, in which it was the fashion for men of rank and
genius to try their strength,' goes without saying. His gifts were
exactly suited to the work, and his productions in the new journal are
by no means its worst. His first essay was a bright little piece of
persiflage upon what he calls the return of nature, and proceeds to
illustrate by the introduction of 'real water' on the stage, by Kent's
landscape gardening, and by the fauna and flora of the dessert table.
A second effort was devoted to that extraordinary adventurer, Baron
Neuhoff, otherwise Theodore, King of Corsica, who, with his realm for
his only assets, was at this time a tenant of the King's Bench prison.
Walpole, with genuine kindness, proposed a subscription for this
bankrupt Belisarius, and a sum of fifty pounds was collected. This,
however, proved so much below the expectations of His Corsican Majesty
that he actually had the effrontery to threaten Dodsley, the printer of
the paper, with a prosecution for using his name unjustifiably. 'I have
done with countenancing kings,' wrote Walpole to Mann.[83] Others of
his _World_ essays are on the Glastonbury Thorn; on Letter-Writing,--a
subject of which he might claim to speak with authority; on old women
as objects of passion; and on politeness, wherein occurs the already
quoted anecdote of Maclean the highwayman. His light hand and lighter
humour made him an almost ideal contributor to Moore's pages, and it
is not surprising to find that such judges as Lady Mary approved his
performances, or that he himself regarded them with a complacency which
peeps out now and again in his letters. 'I met Mrs. Clive two nights
ago,' he says, 'and told her I had been in the meadows, but would walk
no more there, for there was all the world. "Well," says she, "and
don't you like _The World_? I hear it was very clever last Thursday."'
'Last Thursday' had appeared Walpole's paper on elderly 'flames.'
[83] Nevertheless, when this '_Roi en Exil_' shortly afterwards died,
Walpole erected a tablet in St. Anne's Churchyard, Soho, to his memory,
with the following inscription:--
'Near this place is interred
Theodore, King of Corsica;
Who died in this parish, Dec. 11, 1756,
Immediately after leaving the King's-Bench-Prison,
By the benefit of the Act of Insolvency;
In consequence of which he registered
His Kingdom of Corsica
For the use of his Creditors.
'The Grave, great teacher, to a level brings
Heroes and beggars, galley-slaves and Kings.
But Theodore this moral learn'd, ere dead;
Fate pour'd its lessons on his _living_ head,
Bestow'd a kingdom, and denied him bread.'
Theodore's Great Seal, and 'that very curious piece by which he took
the benefit of the Act of Insolvency,' and in which he was only styled
Theodore Stephen, Baron de Neuhoff, were among the treasures of the
Tribune. (See Chapter VIII.)
During the period covered by this chapter the _redintegratio amoris_
with Gray, to which reference has been made, became confirmed. Whether
the attachment was ever quite on the old basis, may be doubted.
Gray always poses a little as the aggrieved person who could not
speak first, and to whom unmistakable overtures must be made by the
other side. He as yet 'neither repents, nor rejoices over much, but
is pleased,'--he tells Chute in 1750. On the other hand, Walpole,
though he appears to have proffered his palm-branch with very genuine
geniality, and desire to let by-gones be by-gones, was not above
very candid criticism of his recovered friend. 'I agree with you
most absolutely in your opinion about Gray,' he writes to Montagu
in September, 1748: 'he is the worst company in the world. From a
melancholy turn, from living reclusely, and from a little too much
dignity, he never converses easily; all his words are measured and
chosen, and formed into sentences; his writings are admirable; he
himself is not agreeable.' Meantime, however, the revived connection
went on pleasantly. Gray made flying visits to Strawberry and Arlington
Street, and prattled to Walpole from Pembroke between whiles. And
certainly, in a measure, it is to Walpole that we owe Gray. It was
Walpole who induced Gray to allow Dodsley to print in 1747, as an
attenuated _folio_ pamphlet, the _Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton
College_; and it was the tragic end of one of Walpole's favourite
cats in a china tub of gold-fish (of which, by the way, there was a
large pond called Po-yang at Strawberry) which prompted the delightful
occasional verses by Gray beginning:--
''Twas on a lofty vase's side,
Where china's gayest art had dy'd
The azure flow'rs that blow;
Demurest of the tabby kind,
The pensive Selima reclin'd,
Gaz'd on the lake below,'--
a stanza which, with trifling verbal alterations, long served as a
label for the 'lofty vase' in the Strawberry Hill collection. To
Walpole's officious circulation in manuscript of the famous _Elegy
written in a Country Church-Yard_ must indirectly be attributed its
publication by Dodsley in February, 1751; to Walpole also is due
that typical piece of _vers de société_, the _Long Story_, which
originated in the interest in the recluse poet of Stoke Poges with
which Walpole's well-meaning (if unwelcome) advocacy had inspired
Lady Cobham and some other lion-hunters of the neighbourhood. But
his chief enterprise in connection with his friend's productions was
the edition of them put forth in March, 1753, with illustrations by
Richard Bentley, the youngest child of the famous Master of Trinity.
Bentley possessed considerable attainments as an amateur artist, and as
a scholar and connoisseur had just that virtuoso _finesse_ of manner
which was most attractive to Walpole, whose guest and counsellor he
frequently became during the progress of the Strawberry improvements.
Out of this connection, which, in its hot fits, was of the most
confidential character, grew the suggestion that Bentley should make,
at Walpole's expense, a series of designs for Gray's poems. These,
which are still in existence,[84] were engraved with great delicacy by
two of the best engravers of that time, Müller and Charles Grignion;
and the _Poemata-Grayo-Bentleiana_, as Walpole christened them, became
and remains one of the most remarkable of the illustrated books of
the last century. Gray, as may be imagined, could scarcely oppose
the compliment; and he seems to have grown minutely interested in
the enterprise, rewarding the artist by some commendatory verses,
in which he certainly does not deny himself--to use a phrase of Mr.
Swinburne--'the noble pleasure of praising.'[85] But even over this
book the sensitive ligament that linked him to Walpole was perilously
strained. Without consulting him, Walpole had his likeness engraved
as a frontispiece,--a step which instantly drew from Gray a wail of
nervous expostulation so unmistakably heartfelt that it was impossible
to proceed with the plate. Thus it came about that _Designs by Mr. R.
Bentley for Six Poems by Mr. T. Gray_ made its appearance without the
portrait of the poet.
[84] A copy of the poems, 'illustrated with the original designs of Mr.
Richard Bentley, ... and also with Mr. Gray's original sketch of Stoke
House, from which Mr. Bentley made his finished pen drawing,' was sold
at the Strawberry Hill sale of 1842 to H. G. Bohn for £8 8_s._
[85] The verses include this magnificent stanza:--
'But not to one in this benighted age
Is that diviner inspiration giv'n,
That burns in Shakespeare's or in Milton's page,
The pomp and prodigality of heav'n.'
Bentley's ingenious son was not the only person whom the decoration of
Strawberry pressed into the service of its owner. Selwyn, the wit,
George James (or 'Gilly') Williams, a connoisseur of considerable
ability, and Richard, second Lord Edgecumbe, occasionally sat as
a committee of taste,--a function commemorated by Reynolds in a
conversation-piece which afterwards formed one of the chief ornaments
of the Refectory;[86] and upon Bentley's recommendation Walpole invited
from Jersey a humbler guest in the person of a German artist named
Müntz,--'an inoffensive, good creature,' who would 'rather ponder
over a foreign gazette than a palette,' but whose services kept him
domiciled for some time at the Gothic castle. Müntz executed many
views of the neighbourhood, which are still, like that of Twickenham
already referred to,[87] preserved in contemporary engravings. And
besides the persons whom Walpole drew into his immediate circle, the
'village,' as he called it, was growing steadily in public favour.
'Mr. Müntz'--writes Walpole in July, 1755--'says we have more coaches
than there are in half France. Mrs. Pritchard has bought Ragman's
Castle, for which my Lord Litchfield could not agree. We shall be as
celebrated as Baiæ or Tivoli; and if we have not as sonorous names as
they boast, we have very famous people: Clive and Pritchard, actresses;
Scott and Hudson, painters; my Lady Suffolk, famous in her time;
Mr. H[ickey], the impudent Lawyer, that Tom Hervey wrote against;
Whitehead, the poet; and Cambridge, the everything.' Cambridge has
already been referred to as a contributor to _The World_, and the
Whitehead was the one mentioned in Churchill's stinging couplet:--
'May I (can worse disgrace on manhood fall?)
Be born a Whitehead, and baptiz'd a Paul,'
who then lived on Twickenham Common. Hickey, a jovial Irish attorney,
was the legal adviser of Burke and Reynolds, and the 'blunt, pleasant
creature' of Goldsmith's 'Retaliation.' Scott was Samuel Scott, the
'English Canaletto;' Hudson, Sir Joshua's master, who had a house on
the river near Lord Radnor's. But Walpole's best allies were two of the
other sex. One was Lady Suffolk, the whilom friend (as Mrs. Howard)
of Pope and Swift and Gay, whose home at Marble Hill is celebrated in
the Walpole-cum-Pulteney poem; the other was red-faced Mrs. Clive,
who occupied a house known familiarly as 'Clive-den,' and officially
as Little Strawberry. She had not yet retired from the stage. Lady
Suffolk's stories of the Georgian Court and its scandals, and Mrs.
Clive's anecdotes of the green-room, and of their common neighbour at
Hampton, the great 'Roscius' himself (with whom she was always at war),
must have furnished Walpole with an inexhaustible supply of just the
particular description of gossip which he most appreciated.
[86] It is copied in Cunningham, vol. iii. p. 475. It was sold for £157
10_s._ at the Strawberry Hill sale, and passed into the collection of
the late Lord Taunton.
[87] See p. 192 n.
CHAPTER VI.
Gleanings from the _Short Notes_.--_Letter from Xo Ho._--The
Strawberry Hill Press.--Robinson the Printer.--Gray's _Odes_.--Other
Works.--_Catalogue of Royal and Noble Authors._--_Anecdotes
of Painting._--Humours of the Press.--_The Parish Register of
Twickenham._--Lady Fanny Shirley.--Fielding.--_The Castle of Otranto._
In order to take up the little-variegated thread of Walpole's life, we
must again resort to the _Short Notes_, in which, as already stated, he
has recorded what he considered to be its most important occurrences.
In 1754, he had been chosen member, in the new Parliament of that year,
for Castle Rising, in Norfolk. In March, 1755, he says, he was very
ill-used by his nephew, Lord Orford [_i. e._, the son of his eldest
brother, Robert], upon a contested election in the House of Commons,
'on which I wrote him a long letter, with an account of my own conduct
in politics.' This letter does not seem to have been preserved, and
it is difficult to conceive that its theme could have involved very
lengthy explanations. In February, 1757, he vacated his Castle Rising
seat for that of Lynn, and about the same time, he tells us, used his
best endeavours, although in vain, to save the unfortunate Admiral
Byng, who was executed, _pour encourager les autres_, in the following
March. But with the exception of his erection of a tablet to Theodore
of Corsica, and the dismissal, in 1759, of Mr. Müntz, with whom his
connection seems to have been exceptionally prolonged, his record for
the next decade, or until the publication of the _Castle of Otranto_,
is almost exclusively literary, and deals with the establishment of
his private printing press at Strawberry Hill, his publication thereat
of Gray's _Odes_ and other works, his _Catalogue of Royal and Noble
Authors_, his _Anecdotes of Painting_, and his above-mentioned romance.
This accidental absorption of his chronicle by literary production will
serve as a sufficient reason for devoting this chapter to those efforts
of his pen which, from the outset, were destined to the permanence of
type.
Already, as far back as March, 1751, he had begun the work afterwards
known as the _Memoires of the last Ten Years of the Reign of George
II._, to the progress of which there are scattered references in the
_Short Notes_. He had intended at first to confine them to the history
of one year, but they grew under his hand. His first definite literary
effort in 1757, however, was the clever little squib, after the model
of Montesquieu's _Lettres Persanes_, entitled _A Letter from Xo Ho,
a Chinese Philosopher at London, to his Friend Lien Chi, at Peking_,
in which he ingeniously satirizes the 'late political revolutions'
and the inconstant disposition of the English nation, not forgetting
to fire off a few sarcasms _à propos_ of the Byng tragedy. The piece,
he tells Mann, was written 'in an hour and a half' (there is always a
little of Oronte's _Je n'ai demeuré qu'un quart d'heure à le faire_
about Walpole's literary efforts), was sent to press next day, and ran
through five editions in a fortnight.[88] Mrs. Clive was of opinion
that the rash satirist would be sent to the Tower; but he himself
regarded it as 'perhaps the only political paper ever written, in which
no man of any party could dislike or deny a single fact;' and Henry
Fox, to whom he sent a copy, may be held to confirm this view, since
his only objection seems to have been that it did not hit some of the
_other_ side a little harder. It would be difficult now without long
notes to make it intelligible to modern readers; but the following
outburst of the Chinese philosopher respecting the variations of the
English climate has the merit of enduring applicability. 'The English
have no sun, no summer, as we have, at least their sun does not scorch
like ours. They content themselves with names: at a certain time of
the year they leave their capital, and that makes summer; they go out
of the city, and that makes the country. Their monarch, when he goes
into the country, passes in his calash[89] by a row of high trees, goes
along a gravel walk, crosses one of the chief streets, is driven by the
side of a canal between two rows of lamps, at the end of which he has a
small house [Kensington Palace], and then he is supposed to be in the
country. I saw this ceremony yesterday: as soon as he was gone the men
put on under vestments of white linen, and the women left off those
vast draperies, which they call _hoops_, and which I have described to
thee; and then all the men and all the women said _it was hot_. If thou
wilt believe me, I am now [in May] writing to thee before a fire.'[90]
[88] It may be observed that when Walpole's letter was published, it
was briefly noticed in the _Monthly Review_, where at this very date
Oliver Goldsmith was working as the hind of Griffiths and his wife.
It is also notable that the name of Xo Ho's correspondent, Lien Chi,
seems almost a foreshadowing of Goldsmith's Lien Chi Altangi. Can it
be possible that Walpole supplied Goldsmith with his first idea of the
_Citizen of the World_?
[89] A four-wheeled carriage with a movable hood. Cf. Prior's _Down
Hall_: 'Then answer'd Squire Morley: Pray get a _calash_, That in
summer may burn, and in winter may splash,' etc.
[90] _Works_, 1798, i. 208.
In the following June Walpole had betaken himself to the place he
'loved best of all,' and was amusing himself at Strawberry with his
pen. The next work which he records is the publication of a Catalogue
of the Collection of Pictures, etc., of [_i. e._, belonging to] Charles
the First, for which he prepared 'a little introduction.' This, and
the subsequent 'prefaces or advertisements' to the Catalogues of the
Collections of James the Second, and the Duke of Buckingham, are to be
found in vol. i., pp. 234-41, of his works. But the great event of 1757
is the establishment of the _Officina Arbuteana_, or private printing
press, of Strawberry Hill. 'Elzevir, Aldus, and Stephens,' he tells
Chute in July, 'are the freshest personages in his memory,' and he
jestingly threatens to assume as his motto (with a slight variation)
Pope's couplet:--
'Some have at first for wits, then poets pass'd;
Turn'd _printers_ next, and proved plain fools at last.'
'I am turned printer,' he writes somewhat later, 'and have converted a
little cottage into a printing-office. My abbey is a perfect college or
academy. I keep a painter [Müntz] in the house, and a printer,--not to
mention Mr. Bentley, who is an academy himself.' William Robinson, the
printer, an Irishman with noticeable eyes which Garrick envied ('they
are more Richard the Third's than Garrick's own,' says Walpole), must
have been a rather original personage, to judge by a copy of one of
his letters which his patron incloses to Mann. He says he found it in
a drawer where it had evidently been placed to attract his attention.
After telling his correspondent in bad blank verse that he dates from
the 'shady bowers, nodding groves, and amaranthine shades (?)' of
Twickenham,--'Richmond's near neighbour, where great George the King
resides,'--Robinson proceeds to describe his employer as 'the Hon.
Horatio Walpole, son to the late great Sir Robert Walpole, who is
very studious, and an admirer of all the liberal arts and sciences;
amongst the rest he admires printing. He has fitted out a complete
printing-house at this his country seat, and has done me the favour
to make me sole manager and operator (there being no one but myself).
All men of genius resorts his house, courts his company, and admires
his understanding: what with his own and their writings, I believe
I shall be pretty well employed. I have pleased him, and I hope to
continue so to do.' Then, after reference to the extreme heat,--a
heat by which fowls and quarters of lamb have been roasted in the
London Artillery grounds 'by the help of glasses,' so capricious was
the climate over which Walpole had made merry in May,--he proceeds to
describe Strawberry. 'The place I am now in is all my comfort from
the heat; the situation of it is close to the Thames, and is Richmond
Gardens (if you were ever in them) in miniature, surrounded by bowers,
groves, cascades, and ponds, and on a rising ground not very common in
this part of the country; the building elegant, and the furniture of
a peculiar taste, magnificent and superb.' At this date poor Robinson
seems to have been delighted with the place and the fastidious master
whom he hoped 'to continue to please.' But Walpole was nothing if not
mutable, and two years later he had found out that Robinson of the
remarkable eyes was 'a foolish Irishman who took himself for a genius,'
and they parted, with the result that the _Officina Arbuteana_ was
temporarily at a standstill.
For the moment, however, things went smoothly enough. It had been
intended that the maiden effort of the Strawberry types should have
been a translation by Bentley of Paul Hentzner's curious account of
England in 1598. But Walpole suddenly became aware that Gray had
put the penultimate, if not the final, touches to his painfully
elaborated Pindaric Odes, the _Bard_ and the _Progress of Poesy_, and
he pounced upon them forthwith; Gray, as usual, half expostulating,
half overborne. 'You will dislike this as much as I do,'--he writes to
Mason,--'but there is no help.' 'You understand,' he adds, with the
air of one resigning himself to the inevitable, 'it is he that prints
them, not for me, but for Dodsley.' However, he persisted in refusing
Walpole's not entirely unreasonable request for notes. 'If a thing
cannot be understood without them,' he said characteristically, 'it
had better not be understood at all.' Consequently, while describing
them as 'Greek, Pindaric, sublime,' Walpole confesses under his breath
that they are a little obscure. Dodsley paid Gray forty guineas for
the book, which was a large, thin quarto, entitled _Odes by Mr. Gray;
Printed, at Strawberry Hill, for R. and J. Dodsley in Pall-Mall_.
It was published in August, and the price was a shilling. On the
title-page was a vignette of the Gothic castle at Twickenham. From a
letter of Walpole to Lyttelton it would seem that his apprehensions as
to the poems being 'understanded of the people' proved well founded.
'They [the age] have cast their eyes over them, found them obscure, and
looked no further; yet perhaps no compositions ever had more sublime
beauties than are in each,'--and he goes on to criticise them minutely
in a fashion which shows that his own appreciation of them was by no
means unqualified. But Warburton and Garrick and the 'word-picker' Hurd
were enthusiastic. Lyttelton and Shenstone followed more moderately.
Upon the whole, the success of the first venture was encouraging, and
the share in it of 'Elzevir Horace,' as Conway called his friend, was
not forgotten.
Gray's _Odes_ were succeeded by Hentzner's _Travels_, or, to speak more
accurately, by that portion of Hentzner's _Travels_ which refers to
England. In England Hentzner was little known, and the 220 copies which
Walpole printed in October, 1757, were prefaced by an Advertisement
from his pen, and a dedication to the Society of Antiquaries, of which
he was a member. After this came, in 1758, his _Catalogue of Royal and
Noble Authors_; a collection of _Fugitive Pieces_ (which included his
essays in the _World_), dedicated to Conway;[91] and seven hundred
copies of Lord Whitworth's _Account of Russia_. Then followed a book by
Joseph Spence, _the Parallel of Magliabecchi and Mr._ [Robert] _Hill_,
a learned tailor of Buckingham, the object of which was to benefit
Hill,--an end which must have been attained, as six out of seven
hundred copies were sold in a fortnight, and the book was reprinted in
London. Bentley's _Lucan_, a quarto of five hundred copies, succeeded
Spence, and then came three other quartos of _Anecdotes of Painting_,
by Walpole himself. The only other notable products of the press
during this period are the Autobiography of Lord Herbert of Cherbury,
quarto, 1764, and one hundred copies of the _Poems_ of Lady Temple.
This, however, is a very fair record for seven years' work, when it
is remembered that the Strawberry Hill staff never exceeded a man and
a boy. As already stated, the first printer, Robinson, was dismissed
in 1759. His place, after a short interval of 'occasional hands,' was
taken by Thomas Kirgate, whose name thenceforth appears on all the
Twickenham issues, with which it is indissolubly connected. Kirgate
continued, with greater good fortune than his predecessors, to perform
his duties until Walpole's death.
[91] These, though printed in 1758, were not circulated until 1759.
See, at end, 'Appendix of Books printed at the Strawberry Hill Press,'
which contains ample details of all these publications.
In the above list there are two volumes which, in these pages, deserve
a more extended notice than the rest. _The Catalague of Royal and
Noble Authors_ had at least the merit of novelty, and certainly a
better reason for existing than some of the works to which its author
refers in his preface. Even the performances of Pulteney, Earl of
Bath, and the English rondeaus of Charles of Orleans are more worthy
of a chronicler than the lives of physicians who had been poets, of
men who had died laughing, or of Frenchmen who had studied Hebrew.
Walpole took considerable pains in obtaining information, and his book
was exceedingly well received,--indeed, far more favourably than he
had any reason to expect. A second edition, which was not printed at
Strawberry Hill, speedily followed the first, with no diminution of
its prosperity. For an effort which made no pretensions to symmetry,
which is often meagre where it might have been expected to be full,
and is everywhere prejudiced by a sort of fine-gentleman disdain of
exactitude, this was certainly as much as he could anticipate. But he
seems to have been more than usually sensitive to criticism, and some
of the amplest of his _Short Notes_ are devoted to the discussion of
the adverse opinions which were expressed. From these we learn that
he was abused by the _Critical Review_ for disliking the Stuarts,
and by the _Monthly_ for liking his father. Further, that he found
an apologist in Dr. Hill (of the _Inspector_), whose gross adulation
was worse than abuse; and lastly, that he was seriously attacked
in a Pamphlet of _Remarks on Mr. Walpole's 'Catalogue of Royal and
Noble Authors'_ by a certain Carter, concerning whose antecedents his
irritation goes on to bring together all the scandals he can collect.
As the _Short Notes_ were written long after the events, it shows how
his soreness against his critics continued. What it was when still
fresh may be gathered from the following quotation from a letter to
Rev. Henry Zouch, to whom he was indebted for many new facts and
corrections, especially in the second edition, and who afterwards
helped him in the _Anecdotes of Painting_: 'I am sick of the character
of author; I am sick of the consequences of it; I am weary of seeing
my name in the newspapers; I am tired with reading foolish criticisms
on me, and as foolish defences of me; and I trust my friends will be
so good as to let the last abuse of me pass unanswered. It is called
"Remarks" on my Catalogue, asperses the Revolution more than it does my
book, and, in one word, is written by a non-juring preacher, who was a
dog-doctor. Of me, he knows so little that he thinks to punish me by
abusing King William!'[92]
[92] _Walpole to Zouch_, 14 May, 1759.
In a letter of a few months earlier to the same correspondent, he
refers to another task, upon which, in despite of the sentence just
quoted, he continued to employ himself. 'Last summer'--he says--'I
bought of Vertue's widow forty volumes of his MS. collections relating
to English painters, sculptors, gravers, and architects. He had
actually begun their lives: unluckily he had not gone far, and could
not write grammar. I propose to digest and complete this work.'[93]
The purchases referred to had been made subsequent to 1756, when
Mrs. Vertue applied to Walpole, as a connoisseur, to buy from her
the voluminous notes and memoranda which her husband had accumulated
with respect to art and artists in England. Walpole also acquired at
Vertue's sale in May, 1757, a number of copies from Holbein and two
or three other pictures. He seems to have almost immediately set about
arranging and digesting this unwieldy and chaotic heap of material,[94]
much of which, besides being illiterate, was also illegible. More than
once his patience gave way under the drudgery; but he nevertheless
persevered in a way that shows a tenacity of purpose foreign, in this
case at all events, to his assumption of dilettante indifference.
His progress is thus chronicled. He began in January, 1760, and
finished the first volume on 14 August. The second volume was begun in
September, and completed on the 23rd October. On the 4th January in
the following year he set about the third volume, but laid it aside
after the first day, not resuming it until the end of June. In August,
however, he finished it. Two volumes were published in 1762, and a
third, which is dated 1763, in 1764. As usual, he affected more or
less to undervalue his own share in the work; but he very justly laid
stress in his 'Preface' upon the fact that he was little more than the
arranger of data not collected by his own exertions. 'I would not,' he
said to Zouch, 'have the materials of forty years, which was Vertue's
case, depreciated in compliment to the work of four months, which is
almost my whole merit.' Here, again, the tone is a little in the Oronte
manner; but, upon the main point, the interest of the work, his friends
did not share his apprehensions, and Gray especially was 'violent
about it.' Nor did the public show themselves less appreciative, for
there was so much that was new in the dead engraver's memoranda, and
so much which was derived from private galleries or drawn from obscure
sources, that the work could scarcely have failed of readers even if
the style had been hopelessly corrupt, which, under Walpole's revision,
it certainly was not. In 1762, he began a _Catalogue of Engravers_,
which he finished in about six weeks as a supplementary volume, and in
1765, still from the Strawberry Press, he issued a second edition of
the whole.[95]
[93] _Walpole to Zouch_, 12 January, 1759.
[94] 'Mr. Vertue's Manuscripts, in 28 vols.,' were sold at the Sale of
Rare Prints and Illustrated Works from the Strawberry Hill Collection
on Tuesday, 21 June, 1842, for £26 10_s._ Walpole says in the _Short
Notes_ that he paid £100. The Vertue MSS. are now in the British
Museum, which acquired them from the Dawson Turner collection.
[95] _The Anecdotes of Painting_ was enlarged by the Rev. James
Dallaway in 1826-8, and again revised, with additional notes, by Ralph
N Wornum in 1839. This last, in three volumes, 8vo is the accepted
edition.
After the appearance of the second edition of the _Anecdotes of
Painting_, a silence fell upon the _Officina Arbuteana_ for three
years, during the earlier part of which time Walpole was at Paris, as
will be narrated in the next chapter. His press, as may be guessed,
was one of the sights of his Gothic castle, and there are several
anecdotes showing how his ingenious fancy made it the vehicle of
adroit compliment. Once, not long after it had been established,
my Lady Rochford, Lady Townshend (the witty Ethelreda, or Audrey,
Harrison),[96] and Sir John Bland's sister were carried after dinner
into the printing-room to see Mr. Robinson at work. He immediately
struck off some verse which was already in type, and presented it to
Lady Townshend:--
THE PRESS SPEAKS:
From me wits and poets their glory obtain;
Without me their wit and their verses were vain.
Stop, Townshend, and let me but paint[97] what you say,
You, the fame I on others bestow, will repay.
[96] She was married to Charles, 3rd Viscount Townshend in 1723, and
was the mother of Charles Townshend, the statesman. She died in 1788.
There was an enamel of her by Zincke after Vanloo in the Tribune at
Strawberry Hill, which is engraved at p 150 of Cunningham's second
volume.
[97] _Sic. in orig._; but query 'print.'
The visitors then asked, as had been anticipated to see the actual
process of setting up; and Walpole ostensibly gave the printer four
lines out of Rowe's _Fair Penitent_. But, by what would now be styled a
clever feat of prestidigitation, the forewarned Robinson struck off the
following, this time to Lady Rochford:--
THE PRESS SPEAKS.
In vain from your properest name you have flown,
And exchanged lovely Cupid's for Hymen's dull throne;
By my art shall your beauties be constantly sung,
And in spite of yourself, you shall ever be _young_.
Lady Rochford's maiden name, it should be explained, was 'Young.' Such
were what their inventor call _les amusements des eaux de Straberri_ in
the month of August and the year of grace 1757.
Beyond the major efforts already mentioned, the _Short Notes_ contain
references to various fugitive pieces which Walpole composed, some of
which he printed, and some others of which have been published since
his death. One of these, _The Magpie and her Brood_, was a pleasant
little fable from the French of Bonaventure des Periers, rhymed for
Miss Hotham, the youthful niece of his neighbour Lady Suffolk; another,
a _Dialogue between two Great Ladies_. In 1761, he wrote a poem on
the King, entitled _The Garland_, which first saw the light in the
_Quarterly_ for 1852 [No. CLXXX.]. Besides these were several epigrams,
mock sermons, and occasional verses. But perhaps the most interesting
of his productions in this kind are the octosyllabics which he wrote in
August, 1759, and called _The Parish Register of Twickenham_. This is a
metrical list of all the remarkable persons who ever lived there, for
which reason a portion of it may find a place in these pages:--
'Where silver Thames round Twit'nam meads
His winding current sweetly leads;
Twit'nam, the Muses' fav'rite seat,
Twit'nam, the Graces' lov'd retreat;
There polish'd Essex wont to sport,
The pride and victim of a court!
There Bacon tun'd the grateful lyre
To soothe Eliza's haughty ire;
--Ah! happy had no meaner strain
Than friendship's dash'd his mighty vein!
Twit'nam, where Hyde, majestic sage,
Retir'd from folly's frantic stage,
While his vast soul was hung on tenters
To mend the world, and vex dissenters
Twit'nam, where frolic Wharton revel'd,
Where Montagu, with locks dishevel'd
(Conflict of dirt and warmth divine),
Invok'd--and scandaliz'd the Nine;
Where Pope in moral music spoke
To th' anguish'd soul of Bolingbroke,
And whisper'd, how true genius errs,
Preferring joys that pow'r confers;
Bliss, never to great minds arising
From ruling worlds, but from despising:
Where Fielding met his bunter Muse,
And, as they quaff'd the fiery juice,
Droll Nature stamp'd each lucky hit
With inimaginable wit:
Where Suffolk sought the peaceful scene,
Resigning Richmond to the queen,
And all the glory, all the teasing,
Of pleasing one not worth the pleasing:
Where Fanny, "ever-blooming fair,"
Ejaculates the graceful pray'r,
And 'scap'd from sense, with nonsense smit,
For Whitefield's cant leaves Stanhope's wit:
Amid this choir of sounding names
Of statesmen, bards, and beauteous dames,
Shall the last trifler of the throng
Enroll his own such names among?
--Oh! no--Enough if I consign
To lasting types their notes divine:
Enough, if Strawberry's humble hill
The title-page of fame shall fill.'[98]
[98] _Works_, 1798, vol. iv., pp. 382-3.
In 1784, Walpole added a few lines to celebrate a new resident and
a new favourite, Lady Di. Beauclerk, the widow of Johnson's famous
friend.[99] Most of the other names which occur in the _Twickenham
Register_ are easily identified. 'Fanny, "ever-blooming fair,"' was the
beautiful Lady Fanny Shirley of Phillips' ballad and Pope's epistle,
aunt of that fourth Earl Ferrers who in 1760 was hanged at Tyburn for
murdering his steward. Miss Hawkins remembered her as residing at a
house now called Heath Lane Lodge, with her mother, 'a very ancient
Countess Ferrers,' widow of the first Earl. Henry Fielding, to whom
Walpole gives a quatrain, the second couplet of which must excuse the
insolence of the first, had for some time lodgings in Back Lane, whence
was baptised in February, 1748, the elder of his sons by his second
wife, the William Fielding who, like his father, became a Westminster
magistrate. It is more likely that _Tom Jones_ was written at
Twickenham than at any of the dozen other places for which that honour
is claimed, since the author quitted Twickenham late in 1748, and his
great novel was published early in the following year. Walpole had only
been resident for a short time when Fielding left, but even had this
been otherwise, it is not likely that, between the master of the Comic
Epos (who was also Lady Mary's cousin!) and the dilettante proprietor
of Strawberry, there could ever have been much cordiality. Indeed, for
some of the robuster spirits of his age Walpole shows an extraordinary
distaste, which with him generally implies unsympathetic, if not
absolutely illiberal, comment. Almost the only important anecdote of
Fielding in his correspondence is one of which the distorting bias is
demonstrable;[100] and to Fielding's contemporary, Hogarth, although as
a connoisseur he was shrewd enough to collect his works, he scarcely
ever refers but to place him in a ridiculous aspect,--a course which
contrasts curiously with the extravagant praise he gives to Bentley,
Bunbury, Lady Di. Beauclerk, and some other of the very minor artistic
lights in his own circle.
[99] See chapter ix.
[100] Cf. chapter vi. of _Fielding_, by the present writer, in the _Men
of Letters_ series, 2nd edition, 1889, pp. 145-7.
It is, however, possible to write too long an excursus upon the
_Twickenham Parish Register_, and the last paragraphs of this chapter
belong of right to another and more important work,--_The Castle
of Otranto_. According to the _Short Notes_, this 'Gothic romance'
was begun in June, 1764, and finished on the 6th August following.
From another account we learn that it occupied eight nights of this
period from ten o'clock at night until two in the morning, to the
accompaniment of coffee. In a letter to Cole, the Cambridge antiquary,
with whom Walpole commenced to correspond in 1762, he gives some
further particulars, which, because they have been so often quoted,
can scarcely be omitted here: 'Shall I even confess to you what was
the origin of this romance? I waked one morning, in the beginning of
last June, from a dream, of which all I could recover was, that I
had thought myself in an ancient castle (a very natural dream for a
head filled, like mine, with Gothic story), and that on the uppermost
bannister of a great staircase I saw a gigantic hand in armour. In the
evening I sat down and began to write, without knowing in the least
what I intended to say or relate. The work grew on my hands, and I grew
fond of it,--add that I was very glad to think of anything, rather than
politics. In short, I was so engrossed with my tale, which I completed
in less than two months, that one evening I wrote from the time I had
drunk my tea, about six o'clock, till half an hour after one in the
morning, when my hand and fingers were so weary that I could not hold
the pen to finish the sentence, but left Matilda and Isabella talking,
in the middle of a paragraph.'[101]
[101] _Letter to Cole_, 9 March, 1765.
The work of which the origin is thus described was published in
a limited edition on the 24th December, 1764, with the title of
_The Castle of Otranto, a Story, translated by William Marshal,
Gent., from the original Italian of Onuphrio Muralto, Canon of the
Church of St. Nicholas at Otranto_. The name of the alleged Italian
author is sometimes described as an anagram from Horace Walpole,--a
misconception which is easily demonstrated by counting the letters. The
book was printed, not for Walpole, but for Lownds, of Fleet Street,
and it was prefaced by an introduction in which the author described
and criticised the supposed original, which he declared to be a
black-letter printed at Naples in 1529. Its success was considerable.
It seems at first to have excited no suspicion as to its authenticity,
and it is not clear that even Gray, to whom a copy was sent immediately
after publication, was in the secret. 'I have received the _Castle
of Otranto_,' he says, 'and return you my thanks for it. It engages
our attention here [at Cambridge], makes some of us cry a little, and
all in general afraid to go to bed o' nights.' In the second edition,
which followed in April, 1765, Walpole dropped the mask, disclosing
his authorship in a second preface of great ability, which, among
other things, contains a vindication of Shakespeare's mingling of
comedy and tragedy against the strictures of Voltaire,--a piece of
temerity which some of his French friends feared might prejudice him
with that formidable critic. But what is even more interesting is his
own account of what he had attempted. He had endeavoured to blend
ancient and modern romance,--to employ the old supernatural agencies
of Scudéry and La Calprenède as the background to the adventures of
personages modelled as closely upon ordinary life as the personages of
_Tom Jones_. These are not his actual illustrations, but they express
his meaning. 'The actions, sentiments, conversations, of the heroes and
heroines of ancient days were as unnatural as the machines employed to
put them in motion.' He would make his heroes and heroines natural in
all these things, only borrowing from the older school some of that
imagination, invention, and fancy which, in the literal reproduction of
life, he thought too much neglected.
His idea was novel, and the moment a favourable one for its
development. Fluently and lucidly written, the _Castle of Otranto_ set
a fashion in literature. But, like many other works produced under
similar conditions, it had its day. To the pioneer of a movement which
has exhausted itself, there comes often what is almost worse than
oblivion,--discredit and neglect. A generation like the present, for
whom fiction has unravelled so many intricate combinations, and whose
Gothicism and Mediævalism are better instructed than Walpole's, no
longer feels its soul harrowed up in the same way as did his hushed
and awe-struck readers of the days of the third George. To the critic
the book is interesting as the first of a school of romances which had
the honour of influencing even the mighty 'Wizard of the North,' who,
no doubt in gratitude, wrote for _Ballantyne's Novelist's Library_ a
most appreciative study of the story. But we doubt if that many-plumed
and monstrous helmet, which crashes through stone walls and cellars,
could now give a single shiver to the most timorous Cambridge don,
while we suspect that the majority of modern students would, like
the author, leave Matilda and Isabella talking, in the middle of a
paragraph, but from a different kind of weariness. _Autres temps,
autres mœurs_,--especially in the matter of Gothic romance.
CHAPTER VII.
State of French Society in 1765.--Walpole at Paris.--The Royal Family
and the Bête du Gévaudan.--French Ladies of Quality.--Madame du
Deffand.--A Letter from Madame de Sévigné.--Rousseau and the King of
Prussia.--The Hume-Rousseau Quarrel.--Returns to England, and hears
Wesley at Bath.--Paris again.--Madame du Deffand's Vitality.--Her
Character.--Minor Literary Efforts.--The _Historic Doubts_.--The
_Mysterious Mother_.--Tragedy in England.--Doings of the Strawberry
Press.--Walpole and Chatterton.
When, towards the close of 1765, Walpole made the first of several
visits to Paris, the society of the French capital, and indeed French
society as a whole, was showing signs of that coming _culbute générale_
which was not to be long deferred. The upper classes were shamelessly
immoral, and, from the King downwards, _liaisons_ of the most open
character excited neither censure nor comment. It was the era of
Voltaire and the Encyclopædists; it was the era of Rousseau and the
Sentimentalists; it was also the era of confirmed Anglomania. While
we, on our side, were beginning to copy the _comédies larmoyantes_
of La Chaussée and Diderot, the French in their turn were acting
_Romeo and Juliet_, and raving over Richardson. Richardson's chief
rival in their eyes was Hume, then a _chargé d'affaires_, and, in
spite of his plain face and bad French, the idol of the freethinkers.
He 'is treated here,' writes Walpole, 'with perfect veneration;' and
we learn from other sources that no lady's toilette was complete
without his attendance. 'At the Opera,'--says Lord Charlemont,--'his
broad, unmeaning face was usually seen _entre deux jolis minois_;
the ladies in France gave the _ton_, and the _ton_ was Deism.' Apart
from literature, irreligion, and philosophy, the chief occupation was
cards. 'Whisk and Richardson' is Walpole's later definition of French
society; 'Whisk and disputes,' that of Hume. According to Walpole, a
kind of pedantry and solemnity was the characteristic of conversation,
and 'laughing was as much out of fashion as pantins or bilboquets.
Good folks, they have no time to laugh. There is God and the King to
be pulled down first; and men and women, one and all, are devoutly
employed in the demolition.' How that enterprise eventuated, history
has recorded.
It is needless, however, to rehearse the origins of the French
Revolution, in order to make a background for the visit of an English
gentleman to Paris in 1765. Walpole had been meditating this journey
for two or three years; but the state of his health, among other
things (he suffered much from gout), had from time to time postponed
it. In 1763, he had been going next spring;[102] but when next spring
came he talked of the beginning of 1765. Nevertheless, in March of
that year, Gilly Williams writes to Selwyn: 'Horry Walpole has now
postponed his journey till May,' and then he goes on to speak of the
_Castle of Otranto_ in a way which shows that all the author's friends
were not equally enthusiastic respecting that ingenious romance. 'How
do you think he has employed that leisure which his political frenzy
has allowed of? In writing a novel, ... and such a novel that no
boarding-school miss of thirteen could get through without yawning. It
consists of ghosts and enchantments; pictures walk out of their frames,
and are good company for half an hour together; helmets drop from the
moon, and cover half a family. He says it was a dream, and I fancy
one when he had some feverish disposition in him.'[103] May, however,
had arrived and passed, and the _Castle of Otranto_ was in its second
edition, before Walpole at last set out, on Monday, the 9th September,
1765. After a seven hours' passage, he reached Calais from Dover. Near
Amiens he was refreshed by a sight of one of his favourites, Lady Mary
Coke,[104] 'in pea-green and silver;' at Chantilly he was robbed of
his portmanteau. By the time he reached Paris, on the 13th, he had
already 'fallen in love with twenty things, and in hate with forty.'
The dirt of Paris, the narrowness of the streets, the 'trees clipped to
resemble brooms, and planted on pedestals of chalk,' disgust him. But
he is enraptured with the _treillage_ and fountains, 'and will prove
it at Strawberry.' He detests the French opera, though he loves the
French _opéra-comique_, with its Italian comedy and his passion,--'his
dear favourite harlequin.' Upon the whole, in these first impressions
he is disappointed. Society is duller than he expected, and with
the staple topics of its conversation,--philosophy, literature, and
freethinking,--he is (or says he is) out of sympathy. 'Freethinking
is for one's self, surely not for society.... I dined to-day with
half-a-dozen _savans_, and though all the servants were waiting, the
conversation was much more unrestrained, even on the Old Testament,
than I would suffer at my own table in England if a single footman was
present. For literature, it is very amusing when one has nothing else
to do. I think it rather pedantic in society; tiresome when displayed
professedly; and, besides, in this country one is sure it is only the
fashion of the day.' And then he goes on to say that the reigning
fashion is Richardson and Hume.[105]
[102] It is curious to note in one of his letters at this date a _mot_
which may be compared with the famous 'Good Americans, when they die,
go to Paris.' Walpole is more sardonic. 'Paris,' he says, '... like
the description of the grave, is the way of all flesh' (_Walpole to
Mann_, 30 June, 1763).
[103] _Gilly Williams to Selwyn_, 19 March, 1765.
[104] Lady Mary Coke, to whom the second edition of the Gothic romance
was dedicated, was the youngest daughter of John, Duke of Argyll and
Greenwich. At this date, she was a widow,--Lord Coke having died in
1753. Two volumes of her _Letters and Journals_, with an excellent
introduction by Lady Louisa Stuart, were printed privately at
Edinburgh in 1889 from MSS. in the possession of the Earl of Home. A
third volume, which includes a number of epistles addressed to her
by Walpole, found among the papers of the late Mr. Drummond Moray of
Abercairny, was issued in 1892. Walpole's tone in these documents is
one of fantastic adoration; but the pair ultimately (and inevitably)
quarrelled. There is a well-known mezzotint of Lady Mary by McArdell
after Allan Ramsay, in which she appears in white satin, holding a tall
theorbo. The original painting is at Mount Stuart, and belongs to Lord
Bute.
[105] _Walpole to Montagu_, 22 September, 1765.
One of his earliest experiences was his presentation at Versailles to
the royal family,--a ceremony which luckily involved but one operation
instead of several, as in England, where the Princess Dowager of Wales,
the Duke of Cumberland, and the Princess Amelia had all their different
levees. He gives an account of this to Lady Hervey; but repeats it
on the same day with much greater detail in a letter to Chute. 'You
perceive [he says] that I have been presented. The Queen took great
notice of me [for which reason, in imitation of Madame de Sévigné, he
tells Lady Hervey that she is _le plus grand roi du monde_]; none of
the rest said a syllable. You are let into the King's bedchamber just
as he has put on his shirt; he dresses, and talks good-humouredly to
a few, glares at strangers, goes to mass, to dinner, and a-hunting.
The good old Queen, who is like Lady Primrose in the face, and Queen
Caroline in the immensity of her cap, is at her dressing-table,
attended by two or three old ladies.... Thence you go to the Dauphin,
for all is done in an hour. He scarce stays a minute; indeed, poor
creature, he is a ghost, and cannot possibly last three months. [He
died, in fact, within this time, on the 20th December.] The Dauphiness
is in her bed-chamber, but dressed and standing; looks cross, is
not civil, and has the true Westphalian grace and accents. The four
Mesdames [these were the _Graille_, _Chiffe_, _Coche_, and _Loque_ of
history], who are clumsy, plump old wenches, with a bad likeness to
their father, stand in a bedchamber in a row, with black cloaks and
knotting-bags, looking good-humoured, [and] not knowing what to say....
This ceremony is very short; then you are carried to the Dauphin's
three boys, who, you may be sure, only bow and stare. The Duke of
Berry [afterwards Louis XVI.] looks weak and weak-eyed; the Count de
Provence [Louis XVIII.] is a fine boy; the Count d'Artois [Charles
X.] well enough. The whole concludes with seeing the Dauphin's little
girl dine, who is as round and as fat as a pudding.'[106] Such is
Walpole's account of the royal family of France on exhibition. In the
Queen's ante-chamber he was treated to a sight of the famous _bête du
Gévaudan_, a hugeous wolf, of which a highly sensational representation
had been given in the _St. James's Chronicle_ for June 6-8. It had just
been shot, after a prosperous but nefarious career, and was exhibited
by two chasseurs 'with as much parade as if it was Mr. Pitt.'[107]
[106] _Walpole to Chute_, 3 October, 1765.
[107] Madame de Genlis mentions this fearsome monster in her
_Mémoires_: 'Tout le monde a entendu parler de la hyène de Gévaudan,
qui a fait tant de ravages.' The point of Walpole's allusion to Pitt
is explained in one of his hitherto unpublished letters to Lady Mary
Coke at this date: 'I had the fortune to be treated with the sight
of what, next to Mr. Pitt, has occasioned most alarm in France, the
Beast of the Gévaudan' (_Letters and Journals_, iii. [1892], xvii). In
another letter, to Pitt's sister Ann, maid of honour to Queen Caroline,
he says: 'It is a very large wolf, to be sure, and they say has twelve
teeth more than any of the species, and six less than the Czarina'
(_Fortescue Corr., Hist. MSS. Commission, 13th Rept., App._ iii., 1892,
i. 147).
When he had been at Paris little less than a month, he was laid up with
the gout in both feet. He was visited during his illness by Wilkes,
for whom he expresses no admiration. From another letter it appears
that Sterne and Foote were also staying in the French capital at this
time. In November he is still limping about, and it is evident that
confinement in 'a bedchamber in a _hôtel garni_, ... when the court
is at Fontainebleau,' has not been without its effect upon his views
of things in general. In writing to Gray (who replies with all sorts
of kindly remedies), he says, 'The charms of Paris have not the least
attraction for me, nor would keep me an hour on their own account.
For the city itself, I cannot conceive where my eyes were: it is the
ugliest, beastliest town in the universe. I have not seen a mouthful of
verdure out of it, nor have they anything green but their _treillage_
and window shutters.... Their boasted knowledge of society is reduced
to talking of their suppers, and every malady they have about them, or
know of.' A day or two later his gout and his stick have left him, and
his good humour is coming back. Before the month ends, he is growing
reconciled to his environment; and by January 'France is so agreeable,
and England so much the reverse,'--he tells Lady Hervey,--'that he
does not know when he shall return.' The great ladies, too, Madame
de Brionne, Madame d'Aiguillon, Marshal Richelieu's daughter, Madame
d'Egmont (with whom he could fall in love if it would break anybody's
heart in England), begin to flatter and caress him. His 'last new
passion' is the Duchess de Choiseul, who is so charming that 'you would
take her for the queen of an allegory.' 'One dreads its finishing, as
much as a lover, if she would admit one, would wish it should finish.'
There is also a beautiful Countess de Forcalquier, the 'broken music'
of whose imperfect English stirs him into heroics too Arcadian for the
matter-of-fact meridian of London, where Lady Hervey is cautioned not
to exhibit them to the profane.[108]
[108] Of Mad. de Forcalquier it is related that, entering a theatre
during the performance of Gresset's _Le Méchant_, just as the line
was uttered, '_La faute est aux dieux, qui la firent si belle_,' the
applause was so great as to interrupt the play. The point of this,
in a recent repetition of the anecdote, was a little blunted by the
printer's substitution of '_bête_' for '_belle_.'
In a letter of later date to Gray, he describes some more of these
graceful and witty leaders of fashion, whose '_douceur_' he seems to
have greatly preferred to the pompous and arrogant fatuity of the men.
'They have taken up gravity,'--he says of these latter,--'thinking it
was philosophy and English, and so have acquired nothing in the room of
their natural levity and cheerfulness.' But with the women the case is
different. He knows six or seven 'with very superior understandings;
some of them with wit, or with softness, or very good sense.' His
first portrait is of the famous Madame Geoffrin, to whom he had been
recommended by Lady Hervey, and who had visited him when imprisoned in
his _chambre garni_. He lays stress upon her knowledge of character,
her tact and good sense, and the happy mingling of freedom and severity
by which she preserved her position as 'an epitome of empire,
subsisting by rewards and punishments.' Then there is the Maréchale de
Mirepoix, a courtier and an _intrigante_ of the first order. 'She is
false, artful, and insinuating beyond measure when it is her interest,
but indolent and a coward,' says Walpole, who does not measure his
words even when speaking of a beauty and a Princess of Lorraine.
Others are the _savante_, Madame de Boufflers, who visited England
and Johnson, and whom the writer hits off neatly by saying that you
would think she was always sitting for her picture to her biographer;
a second _savante_, Madame de Rochfort, 'the _decent_ friend' of
Walpole's former guest at Strawberry, the Duc de Nivernais;[109] the
already mentioned Duchess de Choiseul, and Madame la Maréchale de
Luxembourg, whose youth had been stormy, but who was now softening down
into a kind of twilight melancholy which made her rather attractive.
This last, with one exception, completes his list.
[109] Louis-Jules-Barbon Mancini-Mazarini, Duc de Nivernais (1716-98),
who had visited Twickenham three years earlier, when he was Ambassador
to England. He was a man of fine manners, and tastes so literary that
his works fill eight volumes. They include a translation of Walpole's
_Essay on Modern Gardening_ (see appendix at end). In his letters to
Miss Ann Pitt at this date, Walpole speaks of the Duke's clever fables,
by which he is now best remembered. Lord Chesterfield told his son in
1749 that Nivernais was 'one of the prettiest men he had ever known,'
and in 1762 his opinion was unaltered. '_M. de Nivernais est aimé,
respecté, et admiré par tout ce qu' il y a d'honnêtes gens à la cour
et à la ville_,' he writes to Madame de Monconseil. The Duke's end was
worthy of Chesterfield himself, for he spent some of his last hours in
composing valedictory verses to his doctor. (See 'Eighteenth Century
Vignettes,' second series, pp. 107-137.)
The one exception is a figure which henceforth played no inconsiderable
part in Walpole's correspondence,--that of the brilliant and witty
Madame du Deffand. As Marie de Vichy-Chamrond, she had been married at
one-and-twenty to the nobleman whose name she bore, and had followed
the custom of her day by speedily choosing a lover, who had many
successors. For a brief space she had captivated the Regent himself,
and at this date, being nearly seventy and hopelessly blind, was
continuing, from mere force of habit, a 'decent friendship' with the
deaf President Hénault. At first Walpole was not impressed with her,
and speaks of her, disrespectfully, as 'an old blind debauchee of wit.'
A little later, although he still refers to her as the 'old lady of the
house,' he says she is very agreeable. Later still, she has completed
her conquest by telling him he has _le fou mocquer_; and in the letter
to Gray above quoted, it is plain that she has become an object of
absorbing interest to him, not unmingled with a nervous apprehension of
her undisguised partiality for his society. In spite of her affliction
(he says) she 'retains all her vivacity, wit, memory, judgment,
passions, and agreeableness. She goes to Operas, Plays, suppers, and
Versailles; gives suppers twice a week; has every thing new read to
her; makes new songs and epigrams, ay, admirably,[110] and remembers
every one that has been made these fourscore years. She corresponds
with Voltaire, dictates charming letters to him, contradicts him,
is no bigot to him or anybody, and laughs both at the clergy and
the philosophers. In a dispute, into which she easily falls, she is
very warm, and yet scarce ever in the wrong; her judgment on every
subject is as just as possible; on every point of conduct as wrong as
possible: for she is all love and hatred, passionate for her friends
to enthusiasm, still anxious to be loved, I don't mean by lovers,
and a vehement enemy, but openly. As she can have no amusement but
conversation, the least solitude and ennui are insupportable to her,
and put her into the power of several worthless people, who eat her
suppers when they can eat nobody's of higher rank; wink to one another
and laugh at her; hate her because she has forty times more parts, and
venture to hate her because she is not rich.'[111] In another letter,
to Mr. James Crawford of Auchinames (Hume's _Fish_ Crawford), who was
also one of Madame du Deffand's admirers, he says, in repeating some
of the above details, that he is not 'ashamed of interesting himself
exceedingly about her. To say nothing of her extraordinary parts, she
is certainly the most generous, friendly being upon earth.' Upon her
side, Madame du Deffand seems to have been equally attracted by the
strange mixture of independence and effeminacy which went to make up
Walpole's character. Her attachment to him rapidly grew into a kind of
infatuation. He had no sooner quitted Paris, which he did on the 17th
April, than she began to correspond with him; and thenceforward, until
her death in 1780, her letters, dictated to her faithful secretary,
Wiart, continued, except when Walpole was actually visiting her (and
she sometimes wrote to him even then), to reach him regularly. Not long
after his return to England, she made him the victim of a charming
hoax. He had, when in Paris, admired a snuff-box which bore a portrait
of Madame de Sévigné, for whom he professed an extravagant admiration.
Madame du Deffand procured a similar box, had the portrait copied, and
sent it to him with a letter, purporting to come from the dateless
Elysian Fields and 'Notre Dame de Livry' herself, in which he was
enjoined to use his present always, and to bring it often to France and
the Faubourg St. Germain. Walpole was completely taken in, and imagined
that the box had come from Madame de Choiseul; but he should have known
at first that no one living but his blind friend could have written
'that most charming of all letters.' The box itself, the memento of so
much old-world ingenuity, was sold (with the pseudo-Sévigné epistle)
at the Strawberry Hill sale for £28 7_s._ When witty Mrs. Clive heard
of the last addition to Walpole's list of favourites, she delivered
herself of a good-humoured _bon mot_. There was a new resident at
Twickenham,--the first Earl of Shelburne's widow. 'If the new Countess
is but lame,' quoth Clive (referring to the fact that Lady Suffolk
was deaf, and Madame du Deffand blind), 'I shall have no chance of
ever seeing you.' But there is nothing to show that he ever relaxed
in his attentions to the delightful actress, whom he somewhere styles
_dimidium animæ meæ_.[112]
[110] One of her _logogriphes_, or enigmas, is as follows:--
'_Quoique je forme un corps, je ne suis qu'une idée;
Plus ma beauté vieillit, plus elle est décidée:
Il faut, pour me trouver, ignorer d'où je viens:
Je tiens tout de lui, qui reduit tout à rien._'
The answer is _noblesse_. Lord Chesterfield thought it so good that he
sent it to his godson (Letter 166).
[111] _Walpole to Gray_, 25 January, 1766.
[112] He was malicious enough to add, 'a pretty round half.' In middle
life Mrs. Clive, like her Twickenham neighbour, Mrs. Pritchard, grew
excessively stout; and there is a pleasant anecdote that, on one
occasion, when the pair were acting together in Cibber's _Careless
Husband_, the audience were regaled by the spectacle of two leading
actresses, neither of whom could manage to pick up a letter which, by
ill-luck, had been dropped upon the ground.
One of the other illustrious visitors to Paris during Walpole's stay
there was Rousseau. Being no longer safe in his Swiss asylum, where the
curate of Motiers had excited the mob against him, that extraordinary
self-tormentor, clad in his Armenian costume, had arrived in December
at the French capital, and shortly afterwards left for England, under
the safe-conduct of Hume, who had undertaken to procure him a fresh
resting-place. He reached London on the 14th January, 1766. Walpole
had, to use his own phrase, 'a hearty contempt' for the fugitive
sentimentalist and his grievances; and not long before Rousseau's
advent in Paris, taking for his pretext an offer made by the King of
Prussia, he had woven some of the light mockery at Madame Geoffrin's
into a sham letter from Frederick to Jean-Jacques, couched in the true
Walpolean spirit of persiflage. It is difficult to summarize, and may
be reproduced here as its author transcribed it on the 12th January,
for the benefit of Conway:--
LE ROI DE PRUSSE À MONSIEUR ROUSSEAU.
MON CHER JEAN-JACQUES,--Vous avez renoncé à Génève votre patrie; vous
vous êtes fait chasser de la Suisse, pays tant vanté dans vos écrits;
la France vous a décrété. Venez donc chez moi; j'admire vos talens; je
m'amuse de vos rêveries, qui (soit dit en passant) vous occupent trop,
et trop longtems. Il faut à la fin être sage et heureux. Vous avez
fait assez parler de vous par des singularités peu convenables à un
véritable grand homme. Démontrez à vos ennemis que vous pouvez avoir
quelquefois le sens commun: cela les fachera, sans vous faire tort.
Mes états vous offrent une retraite paisible; je vous veux du bien, et
je vous en ferai, si vous le trouvez bon. Mais si vous vous obstiniez
à rejetter mon secours, attendez-vous que je ne le dirai à personne.
Si vous persistez à vous creuser l'esprit pour trouver de nouveaux
malheurs, choisissez les tels que vous voudrez. Je suis roi, je puis
vous en procurer au gré de vos souhaits: et ce qui sûrement ne vous
arrivera pas vis à vis de vos ennemis, je cesserai de vous persécuter
quand vous cesserez de mettre votre gloire à l'être.
Votre bon ami,
FRÉDÉRIC.
This composition, the French of which was touched up by Helvétius,
Hénault, and the Duc de Nivernais, gave extreme satisfaction to all the
anti-Rousseau party.[113] While Hume and his _protégé_ were still in
Paris, Walpole, out of delicacy to Hume, managed to keep the matter a
secret; and he also abstained from making any overtures to Rousseau,
whom, as he truly said, he could scarcely have visited cordially, with
a letter in his pocket written to ridicule him. But Hume had no sooner
departed than Frederick's sham invitation went the round, ultimately
finding its way across the Channel, where it was printed in the _St.
James's Chronicle_. Rousseau, always on the alert to pose as the victim
of plots and conspiracies, was naturally furious, and wrote angrily
from his retreat at Mr. Davenport's in Derbyshire to denounce the
fabrication. The worst of it was, that his morbid nature immediately
suspected the innocent Hume of participating in the trick. 'What
rends and afflicts my heart [is],' he told the _Chronicle_, 'that the
impostor hath his accomplices in England;' and this delusion became
one of the main elements in that 'twice-told tale,'--the quarrel of
Hume and Rousseau. Walpole was called upon to clear Hume from having
any hand in the letter, and several communications, all of which are
printed at length in the fourth volume of his works, followed upon the
same subject. Their discussion would occupy too large a space in this
limited memoir.[114] It is, however, worth noticing that Walpole's
instinct appears to have foreseen the trouble that fell upon Hume.
'I wish,' he wrote to Lady Hervey, in a letter which Hume carried to
England when he accompanied his untunable _protégé_ thither, 'I wish
he may not repent having engaged with Rousseau, who contradicts and
quarrels with all mankind, in order to obtain their admiration.'[115]
He certainly, upon the present occasion, did not belie this
uncomplimentary character.
[113] In a recently printed letter to Miss Ann Pitt, 19 Jan., 1766,
Walpole makes reference to the popularity which this _jeu d'esprit_
procured for him. 'Everybody wou'd have a copy [of course he encloses
one to his correspondent]; the next thing was, everybody wou'd see the
author.... I thought at last I shou'd have a box quilted for me, like
Gulliver, be set upon the dressing-table of a maid of honour, and fed
with bonbons.... If, contrary to all precedent, I shou'd exist in vogue
a week longer, I will send you the first statue that is cast of me in
_bergamotte_ or _biscuite porcelaine_' (_Fortescue Corr., Hist. MSS.
Commision, 13th Rept., App. iii._ [1892], i, 153).
[114] Hume's narrative of the affair may be read in _A Concise and
Genuine Account of the Dispute between Mr. Hume and Mr. Rousseau: with
the Letters that passed between them during their Controversy. As also,
the Letters of the Hon. Mr. Walpole, and Mr. D'Alembert, relative to
this extraordinary Affair. Translated from the French. London. Printed
for T. Becket and P. A. De Hondt, near Surry-street, in the Strand,
MDCCLXVI._
[115] _Walpole to Lady Hervey_, 2 January, 1766. In a letter to
Lady Mary Coke, dated two days later, he says: 'Rousseau set out
this morning for England. As He loves to contradict a whole Nation,
I suppose he will write for the present opposition.... As he is to
live at Fulham, I hope his first quarrel will be with his neighbour
the Bishop of London, who is an excellent subject for his ridicule'
(_Letters and Journals_, iii. 1892, xx).
Before the last stages of the Hume-Rousseau controversy had been
reached, Hume was back again in Paris, and Walpole had returned to
London. Upon the whole, he told Mann, he liked France so well that
he should certainly go there again. In September, 1766, he was once
more attacked with gout, and at the beginning of October went to
Bath, whose Avon (as compared with his favourite Thames) he considers
'paltry enough to be the Seine or Tyber.' Nothing pleases him much at
Bath, although it contained such notabilities as Lord Chatham, Lord
Northington, and Lord Camden; but he goes to hear Wesley, of whom he
writes rather flippantly to Chute. He describes him as 'a lean, elderly
man, fresh-coloured, his hair smoothly combed, but with a _soupçon_
of curl at the ends.' 'Wondrous clean,' he adds, 'but as evidently an
actor as Garrick. He spoke his sermon, but so fast, and with so little
accent, that I am sure he has often uttered it, for it was like a
lesson. There were parts and eloquence in it; but towards the end he
exalted his voice, and acted very ugly enthusiasm; decried learning,
and told stories, like Latimer, of the fool of his college, who said,
'I _thanks_ God for everything.'[116] He returned to Strawberry Hill
in October. In August of the next year he again went to Paris, going
almost straight to Madame du Deffand's, where he finds Mademoiselle
Clairon (who had quitted the stage) invited to declaim Corneille in
his honour, and he sups in a distinguished company. His visit lasted
two months; but his letters for this period contain few interesting
particulars, while those of the lady cease altogether, to be resumed
again on the 9th October, a few hours after his departure. Two years
later he travels once more to Paris and his blind friend, whom he finds
in better health than ever, and with spirits so increased that he tells
her she will go mad with age. 'When they ask her how old she is, she
answers, "_J'ai soixante et mille ans_."' Her septuagenarian activity
might well have wearied a younger man. 'She and I,' he says, 'went
to the Boulevard last night after supper, and drove about there till
two in the morning. We are going to sup in the country this evening,
and are to go to-morrow night at eleven to the puppet-show.' In a
letter to George Montagu, which adds some details to her portrait, he
writes: 'I have heard her dispute with all sorts of people, on all
sorts of subjects, and never knew her in the wrong.[117] She humbles
the learned, sets right their disciples, and finds conversation for
everybody. Affectionate as Madame de Sévigné, she has none of her
prejudices, but a more universal taste; and, with the most delicate
frame, her spirits hurry her through a life of fatigue that would kill
me, if I was to continue here.... I had great difficulty last night
to persuade her, though she was not well, not to sit up till between
two and three for the comet; for which purpose she had appointed an
astronomer to bring his telescopes to the President Hénault's, as
she thought it would amuse me. In short, her goodness to me is so
excessive that I feel unashamed at producing my withered person in a
round of diversions, which I have quitted at home.'[118] One of the
other amusements which she procured for him was the _entrée_ of the
famous convent of St. Cyr, of which he gives an interesting account. He
inspects the pensioners, and the numerous portraits of the foundress,
Madame de Maintenon. In one class-room he hears the young ladies sing
the choruses in _Athalie_; in another sees them dance minuets to the
violin of a nun who is not precisely St. Cecilia. In the third room
they act _proverbes_, or conversations. Finally, he is enabled to
enrich the archives of Strawberry with a piece of paper containing a
few sentences of Madame de Maintenon's handwriting.
[116] _Walpole to Chute_, 10 October, 1766.
[117] Lady Mary Coke testifies to the charm of her conversation: 'In
the evening I made a visit to Madame du Deffan [_sic_]. She talks so
well that I wish'd to write down everything She said, as I thought I
shou'd have liked to have read it afterwards' (_Letters and Journals_,
iii. [1892], 233).
[118] _Walpole to Montagu_, 7 September, 1769.
Walpole's literary productions for this date (in addition to the
letter from the King of Prussia to Rousseau) are scheduled in the
_Short Notes_ with his usual minuteness. In June, 1766, shortly
after his return from Paris, he wrote a squib upon Captain Byron's
description of the Patagonians, entitled, _An Account of the Giants
lately discovered_, which was published on the 25th August. On 18
August he began his _Memoirs of the Reign of King George the Third_;
and, in 1767, the detection of a work published at Paris in two volumes
under the title of the _Testament du Chevalier Robert Walpole_, and
'stamped in that mint of forgeries, Holland.' This, which is printed
in the second volume of his works, remained unpublished during his
lifetime, as no English translation of the _Testament_ was ever
made. His next deliverance was a letter, subsequently printed in the
_St. James's Chronicle_ for 28 May, in which he announced to the
Corporation of Lynn, in the person of their Mayor, Mr. Langley, that
he did not intend to offer himself again as the representative in
Parliament of that town. A wish to retire from all public business,
and the declining state of his health, are assigned as the reasons for
his thus breaking his Parliamentary connection, which had now lasted
for five-and-twenty years. Following upon this comes the already
mentioned account of his action in the Hume and Rousseau quarrel, and
a couple of letters on _Political Abuse in Newspapers_. These appeared
in the _Public Advertiser_. But the chief results of his leisure in
1766-8 are to be found in two efforts more ambitious than any of those
above indicated,--the _Historic Doubts on Richard the Third_, and the
tragedy of _The Mysterious Mother_. The _Historic Doubts_ was begun in
the winter of 1767, and published in February, 1768; the tragedy in
December, 1766, and published in March, 1768.
The _Historic Doubts_ was an attempt to vindicate Richard III. from his
traditional character, which Walpole considered had been intentionally
blackened in order to whiten that of Henry VII. '_Vous seriez un
excellent attornei général_,'--wrote Voltaire to him,--'_vous pesez
toutes les probabilités_.' He might have added that they were all
weighed on one side. Gray admits the clearness with which the principal
part of the arguments was made out; but he remained unconvinced,
especially as regards the murder of Henry VI. Other objectors speedily
appeared, who were neither so friendly nor so gentle. _The Critical
Review_ attacked him for not having referred to Guthrie's _History
of England_, which had in some respects anticipated him; and he was
also criticised adversely by the _London Chronicle_. Of these attacks
Walpole spoke and wrote very contemptuously; but he seems to have been
considerably nettled by the conduct of a Swiss named Deyverdun, who,
giving an account of the book in a work called _Mémoires Littéraires
de la Grande Bretagne_ for 1768, declared his preference for the
views which Hume had expressed in certain notes to the said account.
Deyverdun's action appears to have stung Walpole into a supplementary
defence of his theories, in which he dealt with his critics generally.
This he did not print, but set aside to appear as a postscript in his
works. In 1770, however, his arguments were contested by Dr. Milles,
Dean of Exeter, to whom he replied; and later still, another antiquary,
the Rev. Mr. Masters, came forward. The last two assailants were
members of the Society of Antiquaries, from which body Walpole, in
consequence, withdrew. But he practically abandoned his theories in a
final postscript, written in February, 1793, which is to be found in
the second volume of his works.
Concerning the second performance above referred to, _The Mysterious
Mother_, most of Walpole's biographers are content to abide in
generalities. That the proprietor of Gothic Strawberry should have
produced _The Castle of Otranto_ has a certain congruity; but one
scarcely expects to find the same person indulging in a blank-verse
tragedy sombre enough to have taxed the powers of Ford or Webster. It
is a curious example of literary reaction, and his own words respecting
it are doubtful-voiced. To Montagu and to Madame du Deffand he writes
apologetically. '_Il ne vous plairoit pas assurément_,' he informs the
lady; '_il n'y a pas de beaux sentiments. Il n'y a que des passions
sans envelope_, _des crimes_, _des repentis_, _et des horreurs_;'[119]
and he lays his finger on one of its gravest defects when he goes on
to say that its interest languishes from the first act to the last.
Yet he seems, too, to have thought of its being played, for he tells
Montagu a month later that though he is not yet intoxicated enough
with it to think it would do for the stage, yet he wishes to see it
acted,--a wish which must have been a real one, since he says further
that he has written an epilogue for Mrs. Clive to speak in character.
The postscript which is affixed to the printed piece contradicts the
above utterances considerably, or, at all events, shows that fuller
consideration has materially revised them. He admits that _The
Mysterious Mother_ would not be proper to appear upon the boards. 'The
subject is so horrid that I thought it would shock rather than give
satisfaction to an audience. Still, I found it so truly tragic in
the two essential springs of terror and pity that I could not resist
the impulse of adapting it to the scene, though it should never be
practicable to produce it there.' After his criticism to Madame du
Deffand upon the plot, it is curious to find him later on claiming that
'every scene tends to bring on the catastrophe, and [that] the story
is never interrupted or diverted from its course.' Notwithstanding its
imaginative power, it is impossible to deny that the author's words as
to the repulsiveness of the subject are just. But it is needless to
linger longer upon a dramatic work which had such grave defects as to
render its being acted impossible, and concerning the literary merit of
which there will always be different opinions. Byron spoke of it as 'a
tragedy of the highest order,'--a judgment which has been traversed by
Macaulay and Scott; Miss Burney shuddered at its very name; while Lady
Di. Beauclerk illustrated it enthusiastically with a series of seven
designs in 'sut-water,'[120] for which the enraptured author erected
a special gallery.[121] Meanwhile, we may quote, from the close of the
above postscript, a passage where Walpole is at his best. It is a rapid
and characteristic _aperçu_ of tragedy in England:
'The excellence of our dramatic writers is by no means equal in number
to the great men we have produced in other walks. Theatric genius
lay dormant after Shakespeare; waked with some bold and glorious,
but irregular and often ridiculous, flights in Dryden; revived in
Otway; maintained a placid, pleasing kind of dignity in Rowe, and even
shone in his _Jane Shore_. It trod in sublime and classic fetters in
_Cato_, but void of nature, or the power of affecting the passions.
In Southerne it seemed a genuine ray of nature and Shakespeare; but,
falling on an age still more Hottentot, was stifled in those gross and
barbarous productions, tragi-comedies. It turned to tuneful nonsense
in the _Mourning Bride_; grew stark mad in Lee, whose cloak, a little
the worse for wear, fell on Young, yet in both was still a poet's
cloak. It recovered its senses in Hughes and Fenton, who were afraid it
should relapse, and accordingly kept it down with a timid but amiable
hand; and then it languished. We have not mounted again above the two
last.'[122]
[119] _Letters of Madame du Deffand_, 1810, i. 211 n.
[120] _i. e._ Soot-water. There were two landscapes in soot-water by
Mr. Bentley in the Green Closet at Strawberry.
[121] See chapter ix.
[122] _Works_, 1798, i. 129.
The _Castle of Otranto_ and the _Historic Doubts_ were not printed by
Mr. Robinson's latest successor, Mr. Kirgate. But the Strawberry Press
had by this time resumed its functions, for _The Mysterious Mother_, of
which 50 copies were struck off in 1768, was issued from it. Another
book which it produced in the same year was _Cornélie_, a youthful
tragedy by Madame du Deffand's friend, President Hénault. Walpole's
sole reason for giving it the permanence of his type appears to have
been gratitude to the venerable author, then fast hastening to the
grave, for his kindness to himself in Paris. To Paris three-fourths of
the impression went. More important reprints were Grammont's _Memoirs_,
a small quarto, and a series of _Letters of Edward VI._; both printed
in 1772. The list for this period is completed by the loose sheets of
_Hoyland's Poems_, 1769, and the well-known, but now rare, _Description
of the Villa of Horace Walpole at Strawberry Hill_, 1774, 100 copies
of which were printed, six being on large paper. To an account of
this patchwork edifice, the ensuing chapter will be chiefly devoted.
The present may fitly be concluded with a brief statement of that
always-debated passage in Walpole's life, his relations with the
ill-starred Chatterton.
Towards the close of 1768, and early in 1769, Chatterton, fretting
in Mr. Lambert's office at Bristol, and casting about eagerly for
possible clues to a literary life, had offered some specimens of the
pseudo-Rowley to James Dodsley of Pall-Mall, but apparently without
success. His next appeal was made to Walpole, and mainly as the
author of the _Anecdotes of Painting in England_. What documents he
actually submitted to him, is not perfectly clear; but they manifestly
included further fabrications of monkish verse, and hinted at, or
referred to, a sequence of native artists in oil, hitherto wholly
undreamed of by the distinguished virtuoso he addressed. The packet was
handed to Walpole at Arlington Street by Mr. Bathoe, his bookseller
(notable as the keeper of one of the first circulating libraries in
London); and, incredible to say, Walpole was instantly 'drawn.' He
despatched without delay to his unknown Bristol correspondent such
a courteous note as he might have addressed to Zouch or Ducarel,
expressing interest, curiosity, and a desire for further particulars.
Chatterton as promptly rejoined, forwarding more extracts from
the Rowley poems. But he also, from Walpole's recollection of his
letter, in part unbosomed himself, making revelation of his position
as a widow's son and lawyer's apprentice, who had 'a taste and turn
for more elegant studies,' which inclinations, he suggested, his
illustrious correspondent might enable him to gratify. Upon this,
perhaps not unnaturally, Walpole's suspicions were aroused, the more
so that Mason and Gray, to whom he showed the papers, declared them
to be forgeries. He made, nevertheless, some private inquiry from an
aristocratic relative at Bath as to Chatterton's antecedents, and found
that, although his description of himself was accurate, no account of
his character was forthcoming. He accordingly--he tells us--wrote him
a letter 'with as much kindness and tenderness as if he had been his
guardian,' recommending him to stick to his profession, and adding,
by way of postscript, that judges, to whom the manuscripts had been
submitted, were by no means thoroughly convinced of their antiquity.
Two letters from Chatterton followed,--one (the first) dejected and
seemingly acquiescent; the other, a week later, curtly demanding the
restoration of his papers, the genuineness of which he re-affirmed.
These communications Walpole, by his own account, either neglected
to notice, or overlooked.[123] After an interval of some weeks
arrived a final missive, the tone of which he regarded as 'singularly
impertinent.' Snapping up both poems and letters in a pet, he scribbled
a hasty reply, but, upon reconsideration, enclosed them to their writer
without comment, and thought no more of him or them. It was not until
about a year and a half afterwards that Goldsmith told him, at the
first Royal Academy dinner, that Chatterton had come to London and
destroyed himself,--an announcement which seems to have filled him
with unaffected pity. 'Several persons of honour and veracity,' he
says, 'were present when I first heard of his death, and will attest my
surprise and concern.'[124]
[123] He says he 'was going to Paris in a day or two.' But his memory
must have deceived him, for Chatterton's last letter is dated July
24th, 1769, and, according to Miss Berry, Walpole's visit to Paris
lasted from the 18th August to the 5th October, 1769; and this is
confirmed by his correspondence.
[124] _Works_, 1798, iv. 219. In the above summary of the story we have
relied by preference on the fairly established facts of the case, which
is full of difficulties. The most plausible version of it, as well as
the most fair to Walpole, is given in Prof. D. Wilson's _Chatterton_,
1869.
The apologists of the gifted and precocious Bristol boy, reading
the above occurrences by the light of his deplorable end, have
attributed to Walpole a more material part in his misfortunes than
can justly be ascribed to him; and the first editor of Chatterton's
_Miscellanies_ did not scruple to emphasize the current gossip, which
represented Walpole as 'the primary cause of his [Chatterton's]
dismal catastrophe,'[125]--an aspersion which drew from the Abbot of
Strawberry the lengthy letter on the subject which was afterwards
reprinted in his _Works_.[126] So long a vindication, if needed then,
is scarcely needed now. Walpole, it is obvious, acted very much as he
might have been expected to act. He had been imposed upon, and he was
as much annoyed with himself as with the impostor. But he was not harsh
enough to speak his mind frankly, nor benevolent enough to act the
part of that rather rare personage, the ideal philanthropist. If he
had behaved less like an ordinary man of the world; if he had obtained
Chatterton's confidence, instead of lecturing him; if he had aided and
counselled and protected him,--Walpole would have been different, and
things might have been otherwise. As they were, upon the principle that
'two of a trade can ne'er agree,' it is difficult to conceive of any
abiding alliance between the author of the fabricated _Tragedy of Ælla_
and the author of the fabricated _Castle of Otranto_.
[125] An example of this is furnished by Miss Seward's
_Correspondence_. 'Do not expect [she writes] that I can learn to
esteem that fastidious and unfeeling being, to whose insensibility we
owe the extinction of the greatest poetic luminary [Chatterton], if we
may judge from the brightness of its dawn, that ever rose in our, or
perhaps in any other, hemisphere' (_Seward to Hardinge_, 21 Nov., 1787).
[126] _Works_, 1798, iv. 205-45. See also Bibliographical Appendix to
this volume.
CHAPTER VIII.
Old Friends and New.--Walpole's Nieces.--Mrs. Damer.--Progress
of Strawberry Hill.--Festivities and Later Improvements.--_A
Description_, etc., 1774.--The House and Approaches.--Great Parlour,
Waiting Room, China Room, and Yellow Bedchamber.--Breakfast
Room.--Green Closet and Blue Bedchamber.--Armoury and Library.--Red
Bedchamber, Holbein Chamber, and Star Chamber.--Gallery.--Round
Drawing Room and Tribune.--Great North Bedchamber.--Great Cloister
and Chapel.--Walpole on Strawberry.--Its Dampness.--A Drive from
Twickenham to Piccadilly.
In 1774, when, according to its title-page, the _Description of
Strawberry Hill_ was printed, Walpole was a man of fifty-seven. During
the period covered by the last chapter, many changes had taken place
in his circle of friends. Mann and George Montagu (until, in October,
1770, his correspondence with the latter mysteriously ceased) were
still the most frequent recipients of his letters, and next to these,
Conway, and Cole the antiquary. But three of his former correspondents,
his deaf neighbour at Marble Hill, Lady Suffolk,[127] Lady Hervey
(Pope's and Chesterfield's Molly Lepel, to whom he had written much
from Paris), and Gray, were dead. On the other hand, he had opened
what promised to be a lengthy series of letters with Gray's friend and
biographer, the Rev. William Mason, Rector of Aston, in Yorkshire;
with Madame du Deffand; and with the divorced Duchess of Grafton, who
in 1769 had married his Paris friend, John Fitzpatrick, second Earl
of Upper Ossory. There were changes, too, among his own relatives. By
this time his eldest brother's widow, Lady Orford, had lost her second
husband, Sewallis Shirley, and was again living, not very reputably,
on the Continent. Her son George, who since 1751 had been third Earl
of Orford, and was still unmarried, was eminently unsatisfactory.
He was shamelessly selfish, and by way of complicating the family
embarrassments, had taken to the turf. Ultimately he had periodical
attacks of insanity, during which time it fell to Walpole's fate to
look after his affairs. With Sir Edward Walpole, his second brother, he
seems never to have been on terms of real cordiality; but he made no
secret of his pride in his beautiful nieces, Edward Walpole's natural
daughters, whose charms and amiability had victoriously triumphed
over every prejudice which could have been entertained against their
birth. Laura, who was the eldest, had married a brother of the Earl of
Albemarle, subsequently created Bishop of Exeter; Charlotte, the third,
became Lady Huntingtower, and afterwards Countess of Dysart; while
Maria, the _belle_ of the trio, was more fortunate still. After burying
her first husband, Lord Waldegrave, she had succeeded in fascinating H.
R. H. William Henry, Duke of Gloucester, the King's own brother, and
so contributing to bring about the Royal Marriage Act of 1772. They
were married in 1766; but the fact was not formally announced to His
Majesty until September, 1772.[128] Another marriage which must have
given Walpole almost as much pleasure was that of General Conway's
daughter to Mr. Damer, Lord Milton's eldest son, which took place in
1767. After the unhappy death of her husband, who shot himself in a
tavern ten years later, Mrs. Damer developed considerable talents as a
sculptor, and during the last years of Walpole's life was a frequent
exhibitor at the Royal Academy. _Non me Praxiteles finxit, at Anna
Damer_, wrote her admiring relative under one of her works, a wounded
eagle in terra-cotta;[129] and in the fourth volume of the _Anecdotes
of Painting_, he likens 'her shock dog, large as life,' to such
masterpieces of antique art as the Tuscan boar and the Barberini goat.
[127] Henrietta Hobart, Countess Dowager of Suffolk, died in July,
1767. Her portrait by Charles Jervas, with Marble Hill in the
background, hung in the Green Bed-chamber in the Round Tower at
Strawberry. It once belonged to Pope, who left it to Martha Blount; and
it is engraved as the frontispiece of vol. ii. of Cunningham's edition
of the _Letters_.
[128] 'The Duke of Gloucester'--wrote Gilly Williams to Selwyn, as
far back as December, 1764--'has professed a passion for the Dowager
Waldegrave. He is never from her elbow. This flatters Horry Walpole not
a little, though he pretends to dislike it.'
[129] The idea was borrowed from an inscription upon a statue at Milan:
'Non me Praxiteles, sed Marcus finxit Agrati!'
It is time, however, to return to the story of Strawberry itself,
as interrupted in Chapter V. In the introduction to Walpole's
_Description_ of 1774, a considerable interval occurs between the
building of the Refectory and Library in 1753-4, and the subsequent
erection of the Gallery, Round Tower, Great Cloister, and Cabinet, or
Tribune, which, already in contemplation in 1759, were, according to
the same authority, erected in 1760 and 1761. But here, as before,
the date must rather be that of the commencement than the completion
of these additions. In May, 1763, he tells Cole that the Gallery is
fast advancing, and in July it is almost 'in the critical minute of
consummation.' In August, 'all the earth is begging to come to see
it.' A month afterwards, he is 'keeping an inn; the sign, "The Gothic
Castle."' His whole time is passed in giving tickets of admission to
the Gallery, and hiding himself when it is on view. 'Take my advice,'
he tells Montagu, 'never build a charming house for yourself between
London and Hampton-court; everybody will live in it but you.' A year
later he is giving a great fête to the French and Spanish Ambassadors,
March, Selwyn, Lady Waldegrave, and other distinguished guests, which
finishes in the new room. 'During dinner there were French horns and
clarionets in the cloister,' and after coffee the guests were treated
'with a syllabub milked under the cows that were brought to the brow
of the terrace. Thence they went to the Printing-house, and saw a new
fashionable French song printed. They drank tea in the Gallery, and at
eight went away to Vauxhall.'
This last entertainment, the munificence of which, he says, the
treasury of the Abbey will feel, took place in June, 1764; and it
is not until four years later that we get tidings of any fresh
improvements. In September, 1768, he tells Cole that he is going on
with the Round Tower, or Chamber, at the end of the Gallery, which, in
another letter, he says 'has stood still these five years,' and he is,
besides, '_playing_ with the little garden on the other side of the
road' which had come into his hands by Francklin's death. In May of the
following year he gives another magnificent _festino_ at Strawberry,
which will almost mortgage it, but the Round Tower still progresses.
In October, 1770, he is building again, in the intervals of gout; this
time it is the Great Bedchamber,--a 'sort of room which he seems likely
to inhabit much time together.' Next year the whole piecemeal structure
is rapidly verging to completion. 'The Round Tower is finished, and
magnificent; and the State Bedchamber proceeds fast.' In June he is
writing to Mann from the delicious bow window of the former, with
Vasari's Bianca Capello (Mann's present) over against him, and the
setting sun behind, 'throwing its golden rays all round.' Further
on, he is building a tiny brick chapel in the garden, mainly for the
purpose of receiving 'two valuable pieces of antiquity,'--one being a
painted window from Bexhill of Henry III. and his Queen, given him by
Lord Ashburnham; the other Cavalini's Tomb of Capoccio from the Church
of Santa Maria Maggiore at Rome, which had been sent to him by Sir
William (then Mr.) Hamilton, the English Minister at Naples. In August,
1772, the Great Bedchamber is finished, the house is complete, and he
has 'at last exhausted all his hoards and collections.' Nothing remains
but to compile the _Description and Catalogue_, concerning which he had
written to Cole as far back as 1768, and which, as already stated, he
ultimately printed in 1774.
As time went on, his fresh acquisitions obliged him to add several
_Appendices_ to this issue; and the copy before us, although dated
1774, has supplements which bring the record down to 1786. A fresh
edition, in royal quarto, with twenty-seven plates, was printed in
1784;[130] and this, or an expansion of it, reappears in vol. ii. of
his _Works_. With these later issues we have little to do; but with the
aid of that of 1774, may essay to give some brief account of the long,
straggling, many-pinnacled building, with its round tower at the end,
the east and south fronts of which are figured in the black-looking
vignette upon the title-page. The entrance was on the north side, from
the Teddington and Twickenham road, here shaded by lofty trees; and
once within the embattled boundary wall, covered by this time with ivy,
the first thing that struck the spectator was a small oratory inclosed
by iron rails, with saint, altar, niches, and holy-water basins
designed _en suite_ by Mr. Chute. On the right hand--its gaily-coloured
patches of flower-bed glimmering through a screen of iron work copied
from the tomb of Roger Niger, Bishop of London, in old St. Paul's--was
the diminutive Abbot's, or Prior's, Garden, which extended in front of
the offices to the right of the principal entrance.[131] This was along
a little cloister to the left, beyond the oratory. The chief decoration
of this cloister was a marble _bas-relief_, inscribed 'Dia Helionora,'
being, in fact, a portrait of that Leonora D'Esté who turned the head
of Tasso. At the end was the door, which opened into 'a small gloomy
hall' united with the staircase, the balustrades of which, designed
by Bentley, were decorated with antelopes, the Walpole supporters.
In the well of the staircase was a Gothic lantern of japanned tin,
also due to Bentley's fertile invention. If, instead of climbing the
stairs, you turned out of the hall into a little passage on your left,
you found yourself in the Refectory, or Great Parlour, where were
accumulated the family portraits. Here, over the chimney-piece, was the
'conversation,' by Sir Joshua Reynolds, representing the triumvirate
of Selwyn, Williams, and Lord Edgcumbe, already referred to at p. 138;
here also were Sir Robert Walpole and his two wives, Catherine Shorter
and Maria Skerret; Robert Walpole the second, and his wife in a white
riding-habit; Horace himself by Richardson; Dorothy Walpole, his aunt,
who became Lady Townshend;[132] his sister, Lady Maria Churchill; and
a number of others. In the Waiting Room, into which the Refectory
opened, was a stone head of John Dryden, whom Catherine Shorter claimed
as great-uncle; next to this again was the China Closet, neatly lined
with blue and white Dutch tiles, and having its ceiling painted by
Müntz, after a villa at Frascati, with convolvuluses on poles. In the
China Room, among great stores of Sèvres and Chelsea, and oriental
china, perhaps the greatest curiosity was a couple of Saxon tankards,
exactly alike in form and size, which had been presented to Sir Robert
Walpole at different times by the mistresses of the first two Georges,
the Duchess of Kendal and the Countess of Yarmouth. To the left of the
China Closet, with a bow window looking to the south, was the Little
Parlour, which was hung with stone-coloured 'gothic paper' in imitation
of mosaic, and decorated with the 'wooden prints' already referred to,
the chiaroscuros of Jackson;[133] and at the side of this came the
Yellow Bedchamber, known later, from its numerous feminine portraits,
as the Beauty Room. The other spaces on the ground floor were occupied,
towards the Prior's Garden, by the kitchen, cellars, and servants'
hall, and, at the back, by the Great Cloister, which went under the
Gallery.
[130] From a passage in a letter of 15 Sept., 1787, to Lady Ossory,
it appears that this, though printed, was withheld, on account of
certain difficulties caused by the over-weening curiosity of Walpole's
'customers' (as he called them), the visitors to Strawberry. According
to the sheet of regulations for visiting the house, it was to be seen
between the 1st of May and the 1st of October. Children were not
admitted; and only one company of four on one day.
[131] 'It is not much larger than an old lady's flower-knot in
Bloomsbury,' said Lady Morgan in 1826.
[132] See p. 6.
[133] See p. 117 n.
[Illustration:
A Great Parlour or Refectory.
B Waiting Room.
C China Room.
D Little Parlour.
E Yellow Bedchamber.
F Hall.
G Pantry.
H Servants' Hall.
I Passage.
K Great Cloister.
L Wine Cellar.
M Beer Cellar.
N Kitchen.
O Oratory.
STRAWBERRY HILL: GROUND PLAN--1781.]
Returning to the staircase, where, in later years, hung Bunbury's
original drawing[134] for his well-known caricature of 'Richmond
Hill,' you entered the Breakfast Room on the first floor, the window
of which looked towards the Thames. It was pleasantly furnished with
blue paper, and blue and white linen, and contained many miniatures
and portraits, notable among which were Carmontel's picture of Madame
du Deffand and the Duchess de Choiseul;[135] a print of Madame du
Deffand's room and cats, given by the President Hénault; and a view
painted by Raguenet for Walpole in 1766 of the Hôtel de Carnavalet, the
former residence of Madame de Sévigné.[136]
[134] It was exhibited in the Royal Academy of 1781, and was
Bunbury's acknowledgment of the praise given him by Walpole in the
'Advertisement' to the fourth volume of the _Anecdotes of Painting_,
1 Oct., 1780. A copy of it was shown at the Exhibition of English
Humourists in Art, June, 1889.
[135] In a note to Madame du Deffand's _Letters_, 1810, i. 201, the
editor, Miss Berry, thus describes this picture: It was 'a washed
drawing of Mad. la Duchesse de Choiseul and Mad. du Deffand, under
their assumed characters of grandmother and granddaughter; Mad. de
Choiseul giving Mad. du Deffand a doll. The scene the interior of
Mad. du Deffand's sitting-room. It was done by M. de Carmontel, an
amateur in the art of painting. He was reader to the Prince of Condé,
and author of several little Theatrical pieces.' It is engraved as
the frontispiece of vol. vii. of Walpole's _Letters_, by Cunningham,
1857-59. Mad. du Deffand's portrait was said to be extremely like; that
of the Duchess was not good.
[136] 'It is now the Musée Carnavalet, and contains numberless
souvenirs of the Revolution, notably a collection of china plates,
bearing various dates, designs, and inscriptions applicable to the
Reign of Terror' (_Century_ _Magazine_, Feb., 1890, p. 600). A washed
drawing of Madame de Sévigné's country house at Les Rochers, 'done on
the spot by Mr. Hinchcliffe, son of the Bishop of Peterborough, in
1786,' was afterwards added to this room.
The Breakfast Room opened into the Green Closet, over the door of which
was a picture by Samuel Scott of Pope's house at Twickenham, showing
the wings added after the poet's death by Sir William Stanhope. On
the same side of the room hung Hogarth's portrait of Sarah Malcolm
the murderess, painted at Newgate a day or two before her execution
in Fleet Street.[137] Here also was 'Mr. Thomas Gray; etched from his
shade [silhouette]; by Mr. W. Mason.' There were many other portraits
in this room, besides some water colours on ivory by Horace himself.
In a line with the Green Closet, and looking east, was the Library;
and at the back of it, the Blue Bedchamber, the toilette of which was
worked by Mrs. Clive, who, since her retirement from the stage in 1769,
had lived wholly at Twickenham. The chief pictures in this room were
Eckardt's portraits of Gray in a Vandyke dress and of Walpole himself
in similar attire.[138] There were also by the same artist pictures of
Walpole's father and mother, and of General Conway and his wife, Lady
Ailesbury.
[137] Both these pictures are in existence. The Scott belongs to Lady
Freake, and was exhibited in the Pope Loan Museum of 1888.
[138] Both these are engraved in Cunningham's edition of the _Letters_,
the former in vol. iv., p. 465, the latter in vol. ix., p. 529.
Facing the Blue Bedchamber was the Armoury, a vestibule of three Gothic
arches, in the left-hand corner of which was the door opening into the
Library, a room twenty-eight feet by nineteen feet six, lighted by a
large window looking to the east, and by two smaller rose-windows at
the sides. The books, arranged in Gothic arches of pierced work, went
all round it. The chimney-piece was imitated from the tomb of John of
Eltham in Westminster Abbey, and the stone work from another tomb at
Canterbury. Over the chimney-piece was a picture (which is engraved in
the _Anecdotes of Painting_) representing the marriage of Henry VI.
Walpole and Bentley had designed the ceiling,--a gorgeous heraldic
medley surrounding a central Walpole shield. Above the bookcases
were pictures. One of the greatest treasures of the room was a clock
given by Henry VIII. to Anne Boleyn. Of the books it is impossible to
speak in detail. Noticeable among them, however, was a Thuanus in
fourteen volumes, a very extensive set of Hogarth's prints, and all
the original drawings for the _Ædes Walpolianæ_. Vertue, Hollar, and
Faithorne were also largely represented. Among special copies, were the
identical _Iliad_ and _Odyssey_ from which Pope made his translations
of Homer,[139] a volume containing Bentley's original designs for
Gray's _Poems_, and a black morocco pocket-book of sketches by Jacques
Callot. In a rosewood case in this room was also a fine collection of
coins, which included the rare silver medal struck by Gregory XIII. on
the Massacre of St. Bartholomew.
[139] This was the Amsterdam edition of 1707, in 2 vols. 12mo.,
inscribed 'E libris, A. Pope, 1714;' and lower down, 'Finished ye
translation in Feb. 1719-20, A. Pope.' It also contained a pencil
sketch by the poet of Twickenham Church.
[Illustration:
A Round Drawing Room.
B Cabinet or Tribune.
C Great North Bedchamber.
D Gallery.
E Holbein Chamber.
F Library.
G Beauclerk Closet or Cabinet.
H Armoury.
I China Closets.
K Back Stairs.
L Passage.
M Star Chamber.
N Red Bedchamber.
O Blue Bedchamber.
P Breakfast Room.
Q Green Closet.
STRAWBERRY HILL: PRINCIPAL FLOOR--1781.]
Concerning the Red Bedchamber, the Star Chamber, and the Holbein
Chamber, which intervened between the rest of the first floor and the
latest additions, there is little to say. In the Red Bedchamber, the
most memorable things (after the chintz bed on which Lord Orford died)
were some pencil sketches of Pope and his parents by Cooper and the
elder Richardson. In the Holbein Chamber, so called from a number of
copies on oil-paper by Vertue from the drawings of Holbein in Queen
Catherine's Closet at Kensington, were two of those 'curiosities' which
represent the Don Saltero, or Madame Tussaud, side of Strawberry, viz.,
a tortoise-shell comb studded with silver hearts and roses which was
said to have belonged to Mary, Queen of Scots, and (later) the red
hat of Cardinal Wolsey. The pedigree of the hat, it must, however, be
admitted, was unimpeachable. It had been found in the great wardrobe by
Bishop Burnet when Clerk of the Closet. From him it passed to his son
the Judge (author of that curious squib on Harley known as the _History
of Robert Powel the Puppet-Show-Man_), and thence to the Countess
Dowager of Albemarle, who gave it to Walpole. A carpet in this room
was worked by Mrs. Clive, who seems to have been a most industrious
decorator of her friend's mansion museum.[140] The Star Chamber was but
an ante-room powdered with gold stars in mosaic, the chief glory of
which was a stone bust of Henry VII. by Torregiano.
[140] Walpole wrote an epilogue--not a very good one--for Mrs. Clive
when she quitted the stage; and in the same year, 1769, the _Town and
Country Magazine_ linked their names in its '_Tête-à-Têtes_' as 'Mrs.
Heidelberg' (Clive's part in the _Clandestine Marriage_) and 'Baron
Otranto' (a name under which Chatterton subsequently satirized Walpole
in this identical periodical). See _Memoirs of a Sad Dog_, Pt. 2, July,
1770.
With these three rooms, the first floor of Strawberry, as it existed
previous to the erection of the additions mentioned in the beginning
of this chapter,--namely, the Gallery, the Round Tower, the Tribune,
and the Great North Bedchamber,--came to an end. But it was in these
newer parts of the house that some of its rarest objects of art were
assembled. The Gallery, which was entered from a gloomy little passage
in front of the Holbein Chamber, was a really spacious room, fifty-six
feet by thirteen, and lighted from the south by five high windows.
Between these were tables laden with busts, bronzes, and urns; on the
opposite side, fronting the windows, were recesses, finished with gold
network over looking-glass, between which stood couch-seats, covered,
like the rest of the room, with crimson Norwich damask. The ceiling was
copied from one of the side aisles of Henry VII.'s Chapel; the great
door at the western end, which led into the Round Tower, was taken
from the north door of St. Albans. A long carpet, made at Moorfields,
traversed the room from end to end. In one of the recesses--that to the
left of the chimney-piece, which was designed by Mr. Chute and Mr.
Thomas Pitt of Boconnoc,--stood one of the finest surviving pieces of
Greek sculpture, the Boccapadugli eagle, found in the precinct of the
Baths of Caracalla,--a _chef-d'œuvre_ from which Gray is said to have
borrowed the 'ruffled plumes, and flagging wing' of the _Progress of
Poesy_; to the right was a noble bust in basalt of Vespasian, which
had been purchased from the Ottoboni collection. Of the pictures it
is impossible to speak at large; but two of the most notable were Sir
George Villiers, the father of the Duke of Buckingham, and Mabuse's
_Marriage of Henry VII. and Elizabeth of York_. Of Walpole's own
relatives, there were portraits by Ramsay of his nieces, Mrs. Keppel
(the Bishop's wife) and Lady Dysart, and of the Duchess of Gloucester
(then Lady Waldegrave) by Reynolds. There were also portraits of Henry
Fox, Lord Holland, of George Montagu, of Lord Waldegrave, and of
Horace's uncle, Lord Walpole of Wolterton.[141]
[141] Horatio, brother of Sir Robert Walpole, created Baron Walpole of
Wolterton in 1756. He died in 1757. His _Memoirs_ were published by
Coxe in 1802.
Issuing through the great door of the Gallery, and passing on the
left a glazed closet containing a quantity of china which had once
belonged to Walpole's mother, a couple of steps brought you into the
pleasant Drawing Room in the Round Tower, the bow window of which,
already mentioned, looked to the south-west. Like the Gallery, this
room was hung with Norwich damask. Its chief glory was the picture of
Bianca Capello, of which Walpole had written to Mann. To the left of
this room, at the back of the Gallery, and consequently in the front
of the house, was the Cabinet, or Tribune, a curious square chamber
with semicircular recesses, in two of which, to the north and west,
were stained windows. In the roof, which was modelled on the chapter
house at York, was a star of yellow glass throwing a soft golden glow
over all the room. Here Walpole had amassed his choicest treasures,
miniatures by Oliver and Cooper, enamels by Petitot and Zincke,[142]
bronzes from Italy, ivory bas-reliefs, seal-rings and reliquaries,
caskets and cameos and filigree work. Here, with Madame du Deffand's
letter inside it,[143] was the 'round white snuff-box' with Madame de
Sévigné's portrait; here, carven with masks and flies and grasshoppers,
was Cellini's silver bell from the Leonati Collection, at Parma, a
masterpiece against which he had exchanged all his collection of Roman
coins with the Marquis of Rockingham. A bronze bust of Caligula with
silver eyes; a missal with reputed miniatures by Raphael; a dagger of
Henry VIII.,[144] and a mourning ring given at the burial of Charles
I.,--were among the other show objects of the Tribune, the riches of
which occupy more space in their owner's Catalogue than any other part
of his collections.
[142] 'The chief boast of my collection,' he told Pinkerton, 'is
the portraits of eminent and remarkable persons, particularly the
miniatures and enamels; which, so far as I can discover, are superior
to any other collection whatever. The works I possess of Isaac and
Peter Oliver are the best extant; and those I bought in Wales for 300
guineas [_i.e._, the Digby Family, in the Breakfast Room] are as well
preserved as when they came from the pencil (_Walpoliana_, ii. 157).
[143] It is printed in both the Catalogues.
[144] At the sale in 1842, King Henry's dagger was purchased for
£54 12_s._ by Charles Kean the actor, who also became the fortunate
possessor, for £21, of Cardinal Wolsey's hat.
With the Great North Bedchamber, which adjoined the Tribune, and
filled the remaining space at the back of the Gallery, the account of
Strawberry Hill, as it existed in 1774, comes to an end; for the Green
Chamber in the Round Tower over the Drawing Room, and 'Mr. Walpole's
Bedchamber, two pair of stairs' (which contained the Warrant for
beheading King Charles I., inscribed 'Major Charta,' so often referred
to by Walpole's biographers),[145] may be dismissed without further
notice. The Beauclerk Closet, a later addition, will be described in
its proper place. Over the chimney-piece in the Great North Bedchamber
was a large picture of Henry VIII. and his children, a recent purchase,
afterwards remanded to the staircase to make room for a portrait of
Catherine of Braganza, sent from Portugal previous to her marriage
with Charles II. Fronting the bed was a head of Niobe, by Guido,
which in its turn subsequently made way for _la belle Jennings_.[146]
Among the pictures on the north or window side of the room was the
original sketch by Hogarth of the _Beggar's Opera_, which Walpole had
purchased at the sale of Rich, the fortunate manager who produced Gay's
masterpiece at Lincoln's Inn Fields. It was exhibited at Manchester
in 1857, being then the property of Mr. Willett, who had bought it
at the Strawberry Hill sale of 1842. Another curious oil painting in
this room was the _Rehearsal of an Opera_ by the Riccis, which included
caricature portraits of Nicolini (of _Spectator_ celebrity), of the
famous Mrs. Catherine Tofts, and of Margherita de l'Epine. In a nook
by the window there was a glazed china closet, with a number of minor
curiosities, among which were conspicuous the speculum of cannel coal
with which Dr. Dee was in the habit of gulling his votaries,[147] and
an agate puncheon with Gray's arms which his executors had presented to
Walpole.
[145] Here is his own reference to this, in a letter to Montagu of 14
Oct., 1756: 'The only thing I have done that can compose a paragraph,
and which I think you are Whig enough to forgive me, is, that on
each side of my bed I have hung MAGNA CHARTA, and the Warrant for
King Charles's execution, on which I have written Major Charta; as I
believe, without the latter, the former by this time would be of very
little importance.'
[146] See p. 7 n.
[147] 'Dr Dee's black stone was named in the catalogue of the
collection of the Earls of Peterborough, whence it went to Lady Betty
Germaine. She gave it to the last Duke of Argyle, and his son, Lord
Frederic, to me' (_Walpole to Lady Ossory_, 12 Jan., 1782)
A few external objects claim a word. In the Great Cloister under the
Gallery was the blue and white china tub in which had taken place
that tragedy of the 'pensive Selima' referred to at p. 135 as having
prompted the muse of Gray.[148] The Chapel in the Garden has already
been sufficiently described.[149] In the Flower Garden across the road
was a cottage which Walpole had erected upon the site of the building
once occupied by Francklin the printer, and which he used as a place of
refuge when the tide of sight-seers became overpowering. It included a
Tea Room, containing a fair collection of china, and hung with green
paper and engravings, and a little white and green Library, of which
the principal ornament was a half-length portrait of Milton.[150] A
portrait of Lady Hervey, by Allan Ramsay, was afterwards added to its
decorations.[151]
[148] This was afterwards moved to the Little Cloister at the entrance,
where it appears in the later Catalogue. At the sale of 1842 the bowl,
with its Gothic pedestal, was purchased by the Earl of Derby for £42.
[149] Not far from the Chapel was 'a large seat in the form of a shell,
carved in oak from a design by Mr. Bentley.' It must have been roomy,
for in 1759 the Duchesses of Hamilton and Richmond, and Lady Ailesbury
(the last two, daughter and mother), occupied it together. 'There never
was so pretty a sight as to see them all three sitting in the shell,'
says the delighted Abbot of Strawberry. (_Walpole to Montagu_, 2 June.)
[150] In a note to the obituary notice of Walpole in the _Gentleman's
Magazine_ for March, 1797, p. 260, it is stated that this library was
'formed of all the publications during the reigns of the three Georges,
or Mr. W.'s own time.'
[151] This was exhibited at South Kensington in 1867 by Viscount
Lifford, and is now (1892) at Austin House, Broadway, Worcester.
Many objects of interest, as must be obvious, have remained undescribed
in the foregoing account, and those who seek for further information
concerning what its owner called his 'paper fabric and assemblage of
curious trifles' must consult either the Catalogue of 1774 itself,
or that later and definitive version of it which is reprinted in
Volume II. of the _Works_ (pp. 393-516). The intention in the main has
here been to lay stress upon those articles which bear most directly
upon Walpole's biography. It will also be observed that, during the
prolonged progress of the house towards completion, his experience and
his views considerably enlarged, and the pettiness and artificiality
of his first improvements disappeared. The house never lost, and
never could lose, its invertebrate character; but the Gallery, the
Round Tower, and the North Bedchamber were certainly conceived in
a more serious and even spacious spirit of Gothicism than any of
the early additions. That it must, still, have been confined and
needlessly gloomy, may be allowed; but as a set-off to some of those
accounts which insist so pertinaciously upon its 'paltriness,' its
'architectural solecisms,' and its lack of beauty and sublimity, it is
only fair to recall a few sentences from the preface which its owner
prefixed to the _Description_ of 1784. It was designed, he says of the
Catalogue, to exhibit 'specimens of Gothic architecture, as collected
from standards in cathedrals and chapel-tombs,' and to show 'how
they may be applied to chimney-pieces, ceilings, windows, balustrades,
loggias, etc.' Elsewhere he characterizes the building itself as
candidly as any of its critics. He admits its diminutive scale and
its unsubstantial character (he calls it himself, as we have seen, a
'paper fabric'), and he confesses to the incongruities arising from
an antique design and modern decorations. 'In truth,' he concludes,
'I did not mean to make my house so Gothic as to exclude convenience,
and modern refinements in luxury.... It was built to please my own
taste, and in some degree to realize my own visions. I have specified
what it contains; could I describe the gay but tranquil scene where it
stands, and add the beauty of the landscape to the romantic cast of the
mansion, it would raise more pleasing sensations than a dry list of
curiosities can excite,--at least the prospect would recall the good
humour of those who might be disposed to condemn the fantastic fabric,
and to think it a very proper habitation of, as it was the scene that
inspired, the author of the _Castle of Otranto_.'[152] As one of his
censors has remarked, this tone disarms criticism; and it is needless
to accumulate proofs of peculiarities which are not denied by the
person most concerned.
[152] _Works_, 1798, ii. 395-98.
In spite of its charming situation, Strawberry Hill was emphatically
a summer residence; and there is more than one account in Walpole's
letters of the sudden floods which, when Thames flowed with a
fuller tide than now, occasionally surprised the inhabitants of the
pleasant-looking villas along its banks. It was decidedly damp, and
its gouty owner had sometimes to quit it precipitately for Arlington
Street, where, he says, 'after an hour,' he revives, 'like a member
of parliament's wife.' His best editor, Mr. Peter Cunningham, whose
knowledge as an antiquary was unrivalled,--for was he not the author
of the _Handbook of London_?--has amused himself, in an odd corner of
one of his prefaces, by retracing the route taken in these townward
flights. The extract is so packed with suggestive memories that no
excuse is needed for reproducing it (with a few now necessary notes) as
the tail-piece of the present chapter.
'At twelve his [Walpole's] light bodied chariot was at the door, with
his English coachman and his Swiss valet [Philip Colomb].... In a few
minutes he left Lord Radnor's villa to the right, rolled over the
grotto of Pope, saw on his left Whitton, rich with recollections of
Kneller and Argyll, passed Gumley House, one of the country seats of
his father's opponent and his own friend, Pulteney, Earl of Bath, and
Kendal House,[153] the retreat of the mistress of George I., Ermengard
de Schulenburg, Duchess of Kendal. At Sion, the princely seat of the
Percys, the Seymours, and the Smithsons, he turned into the Hounslow
Road, left Sion on his right, and Osterly, not unlike Houghton, on his
left, and rolled through Brentford,--
"Brentford, the Bishopric of Parson Horne,"[154]
then, as now, infamous for its dirty streets, and famous for its
white-legged chickens.[155] Quitting Brentford, he approached the woods
that concealed the stately mansion of Gunnersbury, built by Inigo Jones
and Webb, and then inhabited by the Princess Amelia, the last surviving
child of King George II.[156] Here he was often a visitor, and seldom
returned without being a winner at silver loo. At the Pack Horse[157]
on Turnham Green he would, when the roads were heavy, draw up for a
brief bait. Starting anew, he would pass a few red brick houses on
both sides, then the suburban villas of men well to do in the Strand
and Charing Cross. At Hammersmith, he would leave the church[158] on
his right, call on Mr. Fox at Holland House, look at Campden House,
with recollections of Sir Baptist Hickes,[159] and not without an
ill-suppressed wish to transfer some little part of it to his beloved
Strawberry. He was now at Kensington Church, then, as it still is, an
ungraceful structure,[160] but rife with associations which he would
at times relate to the friend he had with him. On his left he would
leave the gates of Kensington Palace, rich with reminiscences connected
with his father and the first Hanoverian kings of this country. On
his right he would quit the red brick house in which the Duchess of
Portsmouth lived,[161] and after a drive of half a mile (skirting a
heavy brick wall), reach Kingston House,[162] replete with stories of
Elizabeth Chudleigh, the bigamist maid of honour, and Duchess-Countess
of Kingston and Bristol. At Knightsbridge (even then the haunt of
highwaymen less gallant than Maclean) he passed on his left the little
chapel[163] in which his father was married. At Hyde Park Corner he
saw the Hercules Pillars ale-house of Fielding and Tom Jones,[164] and
at one door from Park Lane would occasionally call on old "Q" for the
sake of Selwyn, who was often there.[165] The trees which now grace
Piccadilly were in the Green Park in Walpole's day; they can recollect
Walpole, and that is something. On his left, the sight of Coventry
House[166] would remind him of the Gunnings, and he would tell his
friend the story of the "beauties;" with which (short story-teller as
he was) he had not completed when the chariot turned into Arlington
Street on the right, or down Berkeley Street into Berkeley Square, on
the left.'[167] In these last lines Mr. Cunningham anticipates our
story, for in 1774, Walpole had not yet taken up his residence in
Berkeley Square.
[153] Kendal House now no longer exists.
[154] _An Heroic Epistle to Sir William Chambers_, _Knight_, 1773.
[155]
'---- _Brandford's_ tedious town,
For dirty streets, and white-leg'd chickens known.'
Gay's _Journey to Exeter_.
[156] Gunnersbury House (or Park), a new structure, now belongs to Lord
Rothschild.
[157] The Old Pack Horse, somewhat modernized by red-brick additions,
still (1892) stands at the corner of Turnham Green. It is mentioned in
the _London Gazette_ as far back as 1697. The sign, a common one for
posting inns in former days, is on the opposite side of the road.
[158] Hammersmith church was rebuilt in 1882-3.
[159] Sir Baptist Hickes, once a mercer in Cheapside, and afterwards
Viscount Campden, erected it _circa_ 1612. At the time to which
Mr. Cunningham is supposed to refer, it was a famous ladies'
boarding-school, kept by a Mrs. Terry, and patronized by Selwyn and
Lady Di. Beauclerk.
[160] The (with all due deference to the writer) quaint and picturesque
old church of St. Mary the Virgin, in Kensington High Street, at which
Macaulay, in his later days, was a regular attendant, gave way, in
1869, to a larger and more modern edifice by Sir Gilbert Scott, R.A.
[161] Old Kensington House, as it was called, has also been pulled
down. One of its inmates, long after the days of 'Madam Carwell,' was
Elizabeth Inchbald, the author of _A Simple Story_, who died there in
1821.
[162] Now Lord Listowel's. It stands near the Prince's Gate into Hyde
Park.
[163] Restored and remodelled in 1861, and now the Church of the Holy
Trinity.
[164] The Hercules Pillars, where Squire Western put up his horses when
he came to town, stood just east of Apsley House, 'on the site of what
is now the pavement opposite Lord Willoughby's.'
[165] The Duke of Queensberry's house afterwards became 138 and 139
Piccadilly.
[166] This is No. 106,--the present St. James's Club. It was built in
1764 by George, sixth Earl of Coventry, some years after the death of
his first wife, the elder Miss Gunning.
[167] _Letters_, by Cunningham, 1857-9, ix. xx.-xxi.
CHAPTER IX.
Occupations and Correspondence.--Literary Work.--Jephson and
the Stage.--_Nature will Prevail._--Issues from the Strawberry
Press.--Fourth Volume of the _Anecdotes of Painting_.--The Beauclerk
Tower and Lady Di.--George, third Earl of Orford.--Sale of the
Houghton Pictures.--Moves to Berkeley Square.--Last Visit to Madame
du Deffand.--Her Death.--Themes for Letters.--Death of Sir Horace
Mann.--Pinkerton, Madame de Genlis, Miss Burney, Hannah More.--Mary
and Agnes Berry.--Their Residence at Twickenham.--Becomes fourth Earl
of Orford.--_Epitaphium vivi Auctoris._--The Berrys again.--Death of
Marshal Conway.--Last Letter to Lady Ossory.--Dies at Berkeley Square,
2 March, 1797.--His Fortune and Will.--The Fate of Strawberry.
After the completion of Strawberry Hill and the printing of the
_Catalogue_, Walpole's life grows comparatively barren of events.
There are still four volumes of his _Correspondence_, but they take
upon them imperceptibly the nature of _nouvelles à la main_, and are
less fruitful in personal traits. Between his books and his prints,
his time passes agreeably, 'but will not do to relate.' Indeed, from
this period until his death, in 1797, the most notable occurrences
in his history are his friendship with the Miss Berry's in 1787-8,
and his belated accession to he Earldom of Orford. Both at Strawberry
and Arlington Street, his increasing years and his persistent malady
condemn him more and more to seclusion and retirement. He is most at
Strawberry, despite its dampness, for in the country he holds 'old,
useless people ought to live.' 'If you were not to be in London,' he
tells Lady Ossory in April, 1774, 'the spring advances so charmingly, I
think I should scarce go thither. One is frightened with the inundation
of breakfasts and balls that are coming on. Every one is engaged
to everybody for the next three weeks, and if one must hunt for a
needle, I had rather look for it in a bottle of hay in the country
than in a crowd.' 'By age and situation,' he writes from Strawberry
in September, 'at this time of the year I live with nothing but old
women. They do very well for me, who have little choice left, and who
rather prefer common nonsense to wise nonsense,--the only difference
I know between old women and old men. I am out of all politics, and
never think of elections, which I think I should hate even if I
loved politics,--just as, if I loved tapestry I do not think I could
talk over the manufacture of worsteds. Books I have almost done with
too,--at least, read only such as nobody else would read. In short,
my way of life is too insipid to entertain anybody but myself; and
though I am always employed, I must own I think I have given up every
thing in the world, only to be busy about the most arrant trifles.'
His London life was not greatly different. 'How should I see or know
anything?' he says a year later, apologizing for his dearth of news.
'I seldom stir out of my house [at Arlington Street] before seven in
the evening, see very few persons, and go to fewer places, make no new
acquaintance, and have seen most of my old wear out. Loo at Princess
Amelie's, loo at Lady Hertford's, are the capital events of my history,
and a Sunday alone, at Strawberry, my chief entertainment. All this
is far from gay; but as it neither gives me _ennui_, nor lowers my
spirits, it is not uncomfortable, and I prefer it to being _déplacé_ in
younger company.' Such is his account of his life in 1774-5, when he is
nearing sixty, and it probably represents it with sufficient accuracy.
But a trifling incident easily stirs him into unwonted vivacity. While
he is protesting that he has nothing to say, his letters grow under
his pen, and, almost as a necessary consequence of his leisure, they
become more frequent and more copious. In the edition of Cunningham, up
to September, 1774, they number fourteen hundred and fifty. Speaking
roughly, this represents a period of nearly forty years. During the
two-and-twenty years that remained to him, he managed to swell them by
what was, proportionately, a far greater number. The last letter given
by Cunningham is marked 2665; and this enumeration does not include
a good many letters and fragments of letters belonging to this later
period, which were published in 1865 in Miss Berry's _Journals and
Correspondence_. Nevertheless, as stated above, they more and more
assume what he somewhere calls 'their proper character of newspapers.'
During the remainder of his life, they were his chief occupation, and
his gout was seldom so severe but that he could make shift to scribble
a line to his favourite correspondents, calling in his printer Kirgate
as secretary in cases of extremity.[168] Of literature generally he
professed to have taken final leave. 'I no longer care about fame,'
he tells Mason in 1774; 'I have done being an author.' Nevertheless,
the _Short Notes_ piously chronicle the production of more than one
trifle, which are reprinted in his _Works_. When, in the above year,
Lord Chesterfield's letters to his son were published, Walpole began
a parody of that famous performance in a _Series of Letters from a
Mother to a Daughter_, with the general title of the _New Whole Duty of
Woman_. He grew tired of the idea too soon to enable us to judge what
his success might have been with a subject which, in his hands, should
have been diverting as a satire; for, although he was a warm admirer of
Chesterfield's parts, as he had shown in his character of him in the
_Royal and Noble Authors_, he was thoroughly alive to the assailable
side of what he styles his 'impertinent institutes of education.'[169]
Another work of this year was a reply to some remarks by Mr. Masters
in the _Archæologia_ upon the old subject of the _Historic Doubts_,
which calls for no further notice. But early in 1775 he was persuaded
into writing an epilogue for the _Braganza_ of Captain Robert Jephson,
a maiden tragedy of the _Venice Preserved_ order, which was produced at
Drury Lane in February of that year, with considerable success. In a
correspondence which ensued with the author, Walpole delivered himself
of his views on tragedy for the benefit of Mr. Jephson, who acted upon
them, but not (as his Mentor thought) with conspicuous success, in his
next attempt, the _Law of Lombardy_. Jephson's third play, however, the
_Count of Narbonne_, which was well received in 1781, had a natural
claim upon Walpole's good opinion, since it was based upon the _Castle
of Otranto_.[170] Besides the above letters on tragedy, Walpole wrote,
'in 1775 and 1776,' a rather longer paper on comedy, which is printed
with them in the second volume of his works (pp. 315-22). He held, as
he says, 'a good comedy the _chef-d'œuvre_ of human genius;' and it
is manifest that his keenest sympathies were on the side of comic art.
His remarks upon Congreve are full of just appreciation. Yet, although
he mentions the _School for Scandal_ (which, by the way, shows that he
must have written rather later than the dates given above), he makes no
reference to the most recent development, in _She Stoops to Conquer_,
of the school of humour and character, and he seems rather to pose as
the advocate of that genteel or sentimental comedy which Foote and
Goldsmith and Sheridan had striven to drive from the English stage.
When his prejudices are aroused, he is seldom a safe guide, and in
addition to his personal contempt for Goldsmith,[171] that writer had
irritated him by his reference to the Albemarle Street Club, to which
many of his friends belonged. It was an additional offence that the
'Miss Biddy [originally Miss Rachael] Buckskin' of the comedy was said
to stand for Miss Rachael Lloyd, long housekeeper at Kensington Palace,
and a member of the club well known both to himself and to Madame du
Deffand.[172]
[168] Kirgate, who will not be again mentioned, fared but ill at
his master's decease, receiving no more than a legacy of £100,--a
circumstance which Pinkerton darkly attributes to 'his modest merit'
having been 'supplanted by intriguing impudence' (_Walpoliana_, i.
xxiv). There is a portrait of him, engraved by William Collard, after
Sylvester Harding, the Pall Mall miniature painter, who also wrote in
1797 for Kirgate some verses in which he is made to speak of himself as
'forlorn, neglected, and forgot.' He had an unique collection of the
Strawberry Press issues, which was dispersed at his death, in 1810.
[169] It was his good sense rather than his inclination that made him
condemn one with whom he had many points of sympathy. Speaking of the
quarrel of Johnson and Chesterfield, he says, 'The friendly patronage
[_i. e._ of the earl] was returned with ungrateful rudeness by the
proud pedant; and men smiled, without being surprised, at seeing a bear
worry his dancing-master.'
[170] 'Jephson's _Count of Narbonne_ has been more admired than any
play I remember to have appeared these many years. It is still [Jan.,
1782] acted with success to very full houses' (_Malone to Charlemont,
Hist. MSS. Commission, 12th Rept., App._, Pt. x., 1891, p. 395). Malone
wrote the epilogue.
[171] 'Silly Dr. Goldsmith' he calls him to Cole in April, 1773.
'Goldsmith was an idiot, with once or twice a fit of parts,' he says
again to Mason in October, 1776.
In the second of the letters to Mr. Jephson, Walpole refers to his
own efforts at comedy, and implies that he had made attempts in this
direction even before the tragedy of _The Mysterious Mother_. He had
certainly the wit, and much of the gift of direct expression, which
comedy requires. But nothing of these earlier essays appears to have
survived, and the only dramatic effort included among his _Works_ (his
tragedy excepted) is the little piece entitled _Nature will Prevail_,
which, with its fairy machinery, has something of the character of such
earlier productions of Mr. W. S. Gilbert as the _Palace of Truth_.
This he wrote in 1773, and, according to the _Short Notes_, sent it
anonymously to the elder Colman, then manager of Covent Garden. Colman
(he says) was much pleased with it, but regarding it as too short for
a farce, wished to have it enlarged. This, however, its author thought
too much trouble 'for so slight and extempore a performance.' Five
years after, it was produced at the little theatre in the Haymarket,
and, being admirably acted,--says the _Biographia Dramatica_,--met with
considerable applause. But it is obviously one of those works to which
the verdict of Goldsmith's critic, that it would have been better if
the author had taken more pains, may judiciously be applied. It is more
like a sketch for a farce than a farce itself; and it is not finished
enough for a _proverbe_. Yet the dialogue is in parts so good that one
almost regrets the inability of the author to nerve himself for an
enterprise _de longue haleine_.
[172] The rules of the so-called _Female Coterie_ in Albemarle Street,
together with the names of the members, are given in the _Gentleman's
Magazine_ for 1770, pp. 414-5. Besides Walpole and Miss Lloyd, Fox,
Conway, Selwyn, the Waldegraves, the Damers, and many other 'persons of
quality' belonged to it.
Between 1774 and 1780 the Strawberry Hill Press still now and then
showed signs of vitality. In 1775, it printed as a loose sheet some
verses by Charles James Fox,--celebrating, as Amoret, that lover of
the Whigs, the beautiful Mrs. Crewe,--and three hundred copies of an
Eclogue by Mr. Fitzpatrick,[173] entitled _Dorinda_, which contains the
couplet,--
[173] The Hon. Richard Fitzpatrick, Lord Ossory's brother. He
afterwards became a General, and Secretary at War. At this time he
was a captain in the Grenadier Guards. As a _littérateur_ he had
written _The Bath Picture; or, a Slight Sketch of its Beauties_; and
he was later one of the chief contributors to the _Rolliad_. Besides
being the life-long friend of Fox, he was a highly popular wit and
man-of-fashion. Lord Ossory put him above Walpole and Selwyn; and Lady
Holland is said to have thought him the most agreeable person she had
ever known. He died in 1813.]
'And oh! what Bliss, when each alike is pleas'd,
the Hand that squeezes, and the Hand that's squeez'd.'
These were followed, in 1778, by the _Sleep Walker_, a comedy from the
French of Madame du Deffand's friend Pont de Veyle, translated by Lady
Craven, afterwards Margravine of Anspach, and played for a charitable
purpose at Newbury. A year later came the vindication of his conduct to
Chatterton, already mentioned at pp. 196-200; and after this a sheet of
verse by Mr. Charles Miller to Lady Horatia Waldegrave,[174] a daughter
of the Duchess of Gloucester by her first husband. The last work of
any importance was the fourth volume of the _Anecdotes of Painting_,
which had been printed as far back as 1770, but was not issued until
Oct., 1780. This delay, the Advertisement informs us, arose 'from
motives of tenderness.' The author was 'unwilling [he says] to utter
even gentle censures, which might wound the affections, or offend the
prejudices, of those related to the persons whom truth forbad him to
commend beyond their merits.'[175] But despite his unwillingness to
'dispense universal panegyric,' and the limitation of his theme to
living professors, he manages, in the same Advertisement, to distribute
a fair amount of praise to some of his particular favourites. Of H. W.
Bunbury, the husband of Goldsmith's 'Little Comedy,' he says that he is
the 'second Hogarth,' and the 'first imitator who ever fully equalled
his original,'--which is sheer extravagance. He lauds the miniature
copying of Lady Lucan, as almost depreciating the 'exquisite works' of
the artists she follows,--to wit, Cooper and the Olivers; and he speaks
of Lady Di. Beauclerk's drawings as 'not only inspired by Shakespeare's
insight into nature, but by the graces and taste of Grecian artists.'
After this, the comparison of Mrs. Damer with Bernini seems almost tame.
[174] One of the three beautiful sisters painted by
Reynolds,--Elizabeth Laura, afterwards Viscountess Chewton; Charlotte
Maria, afterwards Countess of Euston; and Anne Horatia, who married
Captain Hugh Conway. 'Sir Joshua Reynolds gets avaricious in his old
age. My picture of the young ladies Waldegrave is doubtless very fine
and graceful, but it cost me 800 guineas' (_Walpoliana_, ii. 157).
[175] He was not successful as regards Hogarth, whose widow was sorely
and justly wounded by his coarse treatment of _Sigismunda_, which is
said to have been a portrait of herself. The picture is now in the
National Gallery.
Yet her works 'from the life are not inferior to the antique, and
those ... were not more like.' One can scarcely blame Walpole severely
for this hearty backing of the friends who had added so much to the
attractions of his Gothic castle; but the value of his criticisms, in
many other instances sound enough, is certainly impaired by his loyalty
to the old-new practice of 'log-rolling.'
Lady Di. Beauclerk, whose illustrations to Dryden's _Fables_ are still
a frequent item in second-hand catalogues, has a personal connection
with Strawberry through the curious little closet bearing her name,
which, with the assistance of Mr. Essex, a Gothic architect from
Cambridge, Walpole in 1776-8 managed to tuck in between the Cabinet
and the Round Tower. It was built on purpose to hold the 'seven
incomparable drawings,' executed in a fortnight, which her Ladyship
prepared, to illustrate _The Mysterious Mother_. These were the designs
to which he refers in the _Anecdotes of Painting_, and, in a letter to
Mann, says could not be surpassed by Guido and Salvator Rosa. They were
hung on Indian blue damask, in frames of black and gold; and Clive's
friend, Miss Pope, the actress, when she dined at Strawberry, was
affected by them to such a degree that she shed tears, although she
did not know the story,--an anecdote which may be regarded either as a
genuine compliment to Lady Di., or a merely histrionic tribute to her
entertainer. 'The drawings,' Walpole says, 'do not shock and disgust,
like their original, the tragedy;' but they were not to be shown to the
profane. They were, nevertheless, probably exhibited pretty freely, as
a copy of the play, carefully annotated in MS. by the author, and bound
in blue leather to match the hangings, was always kept in a drawer of
one of the tables, for the purpose of explaining them.[176] Walpole
afterwards added one or two curiosities to this closet. It contained,
according to the last edition of the _Catalogue_, a head in basalt of
Jupiter Serapis, and a book of Psalms illuminated by Giulio Clovio, the
latter purchased for £168 at the Duchess of Portland's sale in May,
1786. There was also a portrait by Powell, after Reynolds, of Lady Di.
herself, who lived for some time at Twickenham in a house now known as
Little Marble Hill, many of the rooms of which she decorated with her
own performances. These were apparently the efforts which prompted the
already mentioned postscript to the _Parish Register of Twickenham_:
"Here Genius in a later hour
Selected its sequester'd bow'r,
And threw around the verdant room
The blushing lilac's chill perfume.
So loose is flung each bold festoon,
Each bough so breathes the touch of noon,
The happy pencil so deceives,
That Flora, doubly jealous, cries,
'The work's not mine,--yet, trust these eyes,
'T is my own Zephyr waves the leaves.'"[177]
[176] Miss Hawkins (_Anecdotes_, etc., 1822, p. 103) did not think
highly of these performances: 'Unless the proportions of the human
figure are of no importance in drawing it, these 'Beauclerk drawings'
can be looked on only with disgust and contempt.' But she praises the
gipsies hereafter mentioned (p. 260 n.) as having been copied by Agnes
Berry.
[177] See pp. 158, 159.
Mention has been made of the intermittent attacks of insanity to
which Walpole's nephew, the third Earl of Orford, was subject. At the
beginning of 1774, he had returned to his senses, and his uncle, on
whom fell the chief care of his affairs during his illnesses, was,
for a brief period, freed from the irksome strain of an uncongenial
and a thankless duty. In April, 1777, however, Lord Orford's malady
broke out again, with redoubled severity. In August, he was still
fluctuating 'between violence and stupidity;' but in March, 1778, a
lucid interval had once more been reached, and Walpole was relieved of
the care of his person. Of his affairs he had declined to take care, as
his Lordship had employed a lawyer of whom Walpole had a bad opinion.
'He has resumed the entire dominion of himself,' says a letter to
Mann in April, 'and is gone into the country, and intends to command
the militia.' One of the earliest results of this 'entire dominion'
was a step which filled his relative with the keenest distress. He
offered the famous Houghton collection of pictures to Catherine of
Russia,--'the most signal mortification to my idolatry for my father's
memory that it could receive,' says Walpole to Lady Ossory. By August,
1779, the sale was completed. 'The sum stipulated,' he tells Mann,
'is forty or forty-five thousand pounds,[178] I neither know nor care
which; nor whether the picture merchant ever receives the whole sum,
which probably he will not do, as I hear it is to be discharged at
three payments,--a miserable bargain for a mighty empress!... Well!
adieu to Houghton! about its mad master I shall never trouble myself
more.... Since he has stript Houghton of its glory, I do not care a
straw what he does with the stone or the acres!'[179]
[178] The exact sum was £40,555. Cipriani and West were the valuers.
Most of the family portraits were reserved; but so many of the pictures
were presents that it is not easy to estimate the actual profit over
their first cost to the original owner.
[179] _Walpole to Mann_, 4 Aug., 1779.
Not very long after the date of the above letter Walpole made what
was, for him, an important change of residence. The lease of his
house in Arlington Street running out, he fixed upon a larger one
in the then very fashionable district of Berkeley Square. The house
he selected, now (1892) numbered 11, was then 40,[180] and he had
commenced negotiations for its purchase as early as November, 1777,
when, he tells Lady Ossory, he had come to town to take possession. But
difficulties arose over the sale, and he found himself involved in a
Chancery suit. He was too adroit, however, to allow this to degenerate
into an additional annoyance, and managed (by his own account) to
turn what promised to be a tedious course of litigation into a combat
of courtesy. Ultimately, in July, 1779, he had won his cause, and
was hurrying from Strawberry to pay his purchase money and close the
bargain. Two months later, he is moving in, and is delighted with his
acquisition. He would not change his two pretty mansions for any in
England, he says. On the 14th October, he took formal possession, upon
which day--his 'inauguration day'--he dates his first letter 'Berkeley
Square.' 'It is seeming to take a new lease of life,' he tells Mason.
'I was born in Arlington Street, lived there about fourteen years,
returned thither, and passed thirty-seven more; but I have sober
monitors that warn me not to delude myself.' He had still a decade and
a half before him.
[180] This, according to Harrison's _Memorable Houses_, 3rd ed., 1890,
p. 62, is Lord Orford's number as given in _Boyle's Court Guide_ for
1796.
Little more than twelve months after he had settled down in his new
abode, he lost the faithful friend at Paris, to whom, for the space
of fifteen years, he had written nearly once a week. By 1774, he had
become somewhat nervous about this accumulated correspondence in a
language not his own. For an Englishman, his French was good, and, as
might be expected of anything he wrote, characteristic and vivacious.
But, almost of necessity, it contained many minor faults of phraseology
and arrangement, besides abounding in personal anecdote; and he became
apprehensive lest, after Madame du Deffand's death, his utterances
should fall into alien hands. General Conway, who visited Paris in
October, 1774, had therefore been charged to beg for their return--a
request which seems at first to have been met by the reply on the
lady's part that sufficient precautions had already been taken for
ensuring their restoration. Ultimately, however, they were handed to
Conway.[181] It was in all probability under a sense of this concession
that Walpole once more risked a tedious journey to visit his blind
friend. In the following year he went to Paris, to find her, as usual,
impatiently expecting his arrival. She sat with him until half-past
two, and before his eyes were open again, he had a letter from her.
'Her soul is immortal, and forces her body to keep it company.' A
little later he complains that he never gets to bed from her suppers
before two or three o'clock. 'In short,' he says, 'I need have the
activity of a squirrel, and the strength of a Hercules, to go through
my labours,--not to count how many _démêlés_ I have had to _raccommode_
and how many _mémoires_ to present against Tonton,[182] who grows the
greater favourite the more people he devours.' But Tonton's mistress is
more worth visiting than ever, he tells Selwyn, and she is apparently
as tireless as of yore. 'Madame du Deffand and I [says another letter]
set out last Sunday at seven in the evening, to go fifteen miles to a
ball, and came back after supper; and another night, because it was
but one in the morning when she brought me home, she ordered the
coachman to make the tour of the Quais, and drive gently because it
was so early.' At last, early in October, he tears himself away, to be
followed almost immediately by a letter of farewell. Here it is:--
'Adieu, ce mot est bien triste; souvenez-vous que vous laissez ici
la personne dont vous êtes le plus aimé, et dont le bonheur et le
malheur consistent dans ce que vous pensez pour elle. Donnez-moi de vos
nouvelles le plus tôt qu'il sera possible.
'Je me porte bien, j'ai un peu dormi, ma nuit n'est pas finie; je serai
très-exacte au régime, et j'aurai soin de moi puisque vous vous y
intéressez.'
[181] According to a note in the selection from Madame du Deffand's
Correspondence with Walpole, published in 1810, iii. 44, these letters
were at that date extant. But all the subsequent letters were burnt by
her at Walpole's earnest desire--those only excepted which she received
during the last year of her life, and these, also, were sent back when
she died.
[182] Tonton was a snappish little dog belonging to Madame du Deffand,
which, when in its mistress's company, must have been extremely
objectionable. In January, 1778, the Maréchale de Luxembourg presented
her old friend with Tonton's portrait in wax on a gold snuff-box,
together with the last six volumes of Madame du Deffand's favourite,
Voltaire, adding the following epigram by the Chevalier de Boufflers:--
'Vous les trouvez tous deux charmans,
Nous les trouvons tous deux mordans:
Voilà la ressemblance;
L'un ne mord que ses ennemis,
Et l'autre mord tous vos amis:
Voilà la différence.'
At Madame du Deffand's death, both dog and box passed to Walpole, the
latter finding an honoured place among the treasures of the Tribune.
(See _A Description of the Villa_, etc., 1774, p. 137, _Appendix of
Additions_.)
The correspondence thus resumed was continued for five years more.
Walpole does not seem to have visited Paris again, and the references
to Madame du Deffand in his general correspondence are not very
frequent. Towards the middle of 1780, her life was plainly closing in.
In July and August, she complained of being more than usually languid,
and in a letter of the 22nd of the latter month intimates that it may
be her last, as dictation grows painful to her. 'Ne vous devant revoir
de ma vie,'--she says pathetically,--'je n'ai rien à regretter.'
From this time she kept her bed, and in September Walpole tells Lady
Ossory that he is trembling at every letter he gets from Paris. 'My
dear old friend, I fear, is going!... To have struggled twenty days at
eighty-four shows such stamina that I have not totally lost hopes.' On
the 24th, however, after a lethargy of several days, she died quietly,
'without effort or struggle.' 'Elle a eu la mort la plus douce,'--says
her faithful and attached secretary, Wiart,--'quoique la maladie ait
été longue.' She was buried, at her own wish, in the parish church of
St. Sulpice. By her will she made her nephew, the Marquis d'Aulan, her
heir. Long since, she had wished Walpole to accept this character.
Thereupon he had threatened that he would never set foot in Paris again
if she carried out her intention; and it was abandoned. But she left
him the whole of her manuscripts[183] and books.
As his own letters to her have not been printed, her death makes no
difference in the amount of his correspondence. The war with the
American Colonies, of which he foresaw the disastrous results, and
the course of which he follows to Mann with the greatest keenness,
fully absorbs as much of his time as he can spare from the vagaries of
the Duchess of Kingston and the doings of the Duchess of Gloucester.
Not many months before Madame du Deffand died had occurred the famous
Gordon Riots, which, as he was in London most of the time, naturally
occupy his pen. It was General Conway who, as the author of _Barnaby
Rudge_ has not forgotten, so effectively remonstrated with Lord George
upon the occasion of the visit of the mob to the House of Commons;
and four days later Walpole chronicles from Berkeley Square the
events of the terrible 'Black Wednesday.' From the roof of Gloucester
House he sees the blazing prisons,--a sight he shall not soon forget.
Other subjects for which one dips in the lucky bag of his records
are the defence of Gibraltar, the trial of Warren Hastings, the loss
of the _Royal George_. But it is generally in the minor chronicle
that he is most diverting. The last _bon mot_ of George Selwyn or
Lady Townshend, the newest 'royal pregnancy,' the details of court
ceremonial, the most recent addition to Strawberry, the endless stream
of anecdote and tittle-tattle which runs dimpling all the way,--these
are the themes he loves best; this is the element in which his easy
persiflage delights to disport itself. He is, above all, a _rieur_.
About his serious passages there is generally a false ring, but
never when he pours out the gossip that he loves, and of which he
has so inexhaustible a supply. 'I can sit and amuse myself with my
own memory,' he says to Mann in February, 1785, 'and yet find new
stores at every audience that I give to it. Then, for private episodes
[he has been speaking of his knowledge of public events], varieties
of characters, political intrigues, literary anecdotes, etc., the
profusion that I remember is endless; in short, when I reflect on all
I have seen, heard, read, written, the many idle hours I have passed,
the nights I have wasted playing at faro, the weeks, nay months, I have
spent in pain, you will not wonder that I almost think I have, like
Pythagoras, been Panthoides Euphorbus, and have retained one memory in
at least two bodies.'
[183] The MSS., which included eight hundred of Madame du Deffand's
letters, were sold in the Strawberry Hill sale of 1842 for £157 10_s._
He was sixty-eight when he wrote the above letter. Mann was
eighty-four, and the long correspondence--a correspondence 'not to be
paralleled in the annals of the Post Office'--was drawing to a close.
'What Orestes and Pylades ever wrote to each other for four-and-forty
years without meeting?' Walpole asks. In June, 1786, however, the last
letter of the eight hundred and nine specimens printed by Cunningham
was despatched to Florence.[184] In the following November, Mann died,
after a prolonged illness. He had never visited England, nor had
Walpole set eyes upon him since he had left him at Florence in May,
1741. His death followed hard upon that of another faithful friend
(whose gifts, perhaps, hardly lay in the epistolary line),--bustling,
kindly Kitty Clive. Her cheerful, ruddy face, 'all sun and vermilion,'
set peacefully in December, 1785, leaving Cliveden vacant, not, as we
shall see, for long.[185] Earlier still had departed another old ally,
Cole, the antiquary, and the lapse of time had in other ways contracted
Walpole's circle. In 1781, Lady Orford had ended her erratic career at
Pisa, leaving her son a fortune so considerable as to make his uncle
regret vaguely that the sale of the Houghton pictures had not been
delayed for a few months longer. Three years later, she was followed by
her brother-in-law, Sir Edward Walpole,--an occurrence which had the
effect of leaving between Horace Walpole and his father's title nothing
but his lunatic and childless nephew.
[184] Walpole, as in the case of Madame du Deffand, had taken the
precaution of getting back his letters, and at his friend's death not
more than a dozen of them were still in Mann's possession. According to
Cunningham (_Corr._, ix. xv), Mann's letters to Walpole are 'absolutely
unreadable.' An attempt to skim the cream of them (such as it is) was
made by Dr. Doran in two volumes entitled _'Mann' and Manners at the
Court of Florence_, 1740-1786, Bentley, 1876.
[185] Mrs. Clive is buried at Twickenham, where a mural slab was
erected to her in the parish church by her _protégée_ and successor,
Miss Jane Pope, the clever actress who shed tears over the Beauclerk
drawings (see p. 244). Her portrait by Davison, which is engraved as
the frontispiece to Cunningham's fourth volume, hung in the Round
Bedchamber at Strawberry. It was given to Walpole by her brother, James
Raftor.
If his relatives and friends were falling away, however, their
places--the places of the friends, at least--were speedily filled
again; and, as a general rule, most of his male favourites were
replaced by women. Pinkerton, the antiquary, who afterwards published
the _Walpoliana_, is one of the exceptions; and several of Walpole's
letters to him are contained in that book, and in the volumes of
Pinkerton's own correspondence published by Dawson Turner in 1830.
But Walpole's appetite for correspondence of the purely literary kind
had somewhat slackened in his old age, and it was to the other sex
that he turned for sympathy and solace. He liked them best; his style
suited them; and he wrote to them with most ease. In July, 1785,
he was visited at Strawberry by Madame de Genlis, who arrived with
her friend Miss Wilkes and the famous Pamela,[186] afterwards Lady
Edward Fitzgerald. Madame de Genlis at this date was nearing forty,
and had lost much of her good looks. But Walpole seems to have found
her less _précieuse_ and affected than he had anticipated, and she
was, on this occasion, unaccompanied by the inevitable harp. A later
visit was from Dr. Burney and his daughter Fanny,--'Evelina-Cecilia'
Walpole calls her,--a young lady for whose good sense and modesty he
expresses a genuine admiration. Miss Burney had not as yet entered
upon that court bondage which was to be so little to her advantage.
Another and more intimate acquaintanceship of this period was with
Miss Burney's friend, Hannah More. Hannah More ultimately became one
of Walpole's correspondents, although scarcely 'so corresponding' as
he wished; and they met frequently in society when she visited London.
On her side, she seems to have been wholly fascinated by his wit
and conversational powers; he, on his, was attracted by her mingled
puritanism and vivacity. He writes to her as 'St. Hannah;' and she, in
return, sighs plaintively over his lack of religion. Yet (she adds)
she 'must do him the justice to say, that except the delight he has
in teasing me for what he calls over-strictness, I have never heard
a sentence from him which savoured of infidelity.'[187] He evidently
took a great interest in her works, and indeed in 1789 printed at his
press one of her poems, _Bonner's Ghost_.[188] His friendship for her
endured for the remainder of his life; and not long before his death he
presented her with a richly bound copy of Bishop Wilson's _Bible_, with
a complimentary inscription which may be read in the second volume of
her Life and Correspondence.
[186] 'Whom she [Madame de Genlis] has educated to be very like
herself in the face,' says Walpole, referring to a then current
scandal. At this date, however, it is but just to add that the recent
investigations of Mr. J. G. Alger, as embodied in vol. xix. of the
_Dictionary of National Biography_, tend to show that it is by no means
certain that Pamela was the daughter of the accomplished lady whom
Philippe _Egalité_ entrusted with the education of his sons.
[187] He is not explicit as to his creed. 'Atheism I dislike,' he said
to Pinkerton. 'It is gloomy, uncomfortable; and, in my eye, unnatural
and irrational. It certainly requires more credulity to believe that
there is no God, than to believe that there is' (_Walpoliana_, i.
75-6). But Pinkerton must be taken with caution. (Cf. _Quarterly
Review_, 1843, lxxii. 551.)
[188] In 1786 she had dedicated to him her _Florio, A Tale_, etc., with
a highly complimentary Preface, in which she says: 'I should be unjust
to your very engaging and well-bred turn of wit, if I did not declare
that, among all the lively and brilliant things I have heard from you,
I do not remember ever to have heard an unkind or an ungenerous one.'
It was, however, neither the author of _Evelina_ nor the author of
_The Manners of the Great_ who was destined to fill the void created
by the death of Madame du Deffand. In the winter of 1787-8, he had
first seen, and a year later he made the formal acquaintance of, 'two
young ladies of the name of Berry.' They had a story. Their father,
at this time a widower, had married for love, and had afterwards been
supplanted in the good graces of a rich uncle by a younger brother who
had the generosity to allow him an annuity of a thousand a year. In
1783, Mr. Berry had taken his daughters abroad to Holland, Switzerland,
and Italy, whence, in June, 1785, they had returned, being then
highly cultivated and attractive young women of two-and-twenty and
one-and-twenty respectively. Three years later, Walpole met them for
the second time at the house of a Lady Herries, the wife of a banker
in St. James's Street. The first time he saw them he 'would not be
acquainted with them, having heard so much in their praise that he
concluded they would be all pretension.' But on the second occasion,
'in a very small company,' he sat next the elder, Mary, 'and found her
an angel both inside and out.' 'Her face'--he tells Lady Ossory--'is
formed for a sentimental novel, but it is ten times fitter for a fifty
times better thing, genteel comedy.' The other sister was speedily
discovered to be nearly as charming. 'They are exceedingly sensible,
entirely natural and unaffected, frank, and, being qualified to talk on
any subject, nothing is so easy and agreeable as their conversation,
nor more apposite than their answers and observations. The eldest, I
discovered by chance, understands Latin, and is a perfect Frenchwoman
in her language. The younger draws charmingly, and has copied admirably
Lady Di.'s gipsies,[189] which I lent, though for the first time of her
attempting colours. They are of pleasing figures: Mary, the eldest,
sweet, with fine dark eyes that are very lively when she speaks, with
a symmetry of face that is the more interesting from being pale;
Agnes, the younger, has an agreeable, sensible countenance, hardly to
be called handsome, but almost. She is less animated than Mary, but
seems, out of deference to her sister, to speak seldomer; for they
dote on each other, and Mary is always praising her sister's talents.
I must even tell you they dress within the bounds of fashion, though
fashionably; but without the excrescences and balconies with which
modern hoydens overwhelm and barricade their persons. In short, good
sense, information, simplicity, and ease characterize the Berrys; and
this is not particularly mine, who am apt to be prejudiced, but the
universal voice of all who know them.'[190]
[189] This (we are told) was Lady Di.'s _chef-d'œuvre_. It was a
water-colour drawing representing 'Gipsies telling a country-maiden
her fortune at the entrance of a beech-wood,' and hung in the Red
Bedchamber at Strawberry.
[190] _Walpole to Lady Ossory_, 11 Oct., 1788.
'This delightful family,' he goes on to say, 'comes to me almost every
Sunday evening. [They were at the time living on Twickenham Common.] Of
the father not much is recorded beyond the fact that he was 'a little
merry man with a round face,' and (as his eldest daughter reports)
'an odd inherent easiness in his disposition,' who seems to have
been perfectly contented in his modest and unobtrusive character of
paternal appendage to the favourites. Walpole's attachment to his new
friends grew rapidly. Only a few days after the date of the foregoing
letter, Mr. Kirgate's press was versifying in their honour, and they
themselves were already 'his two Straw Berries,' whose praises he sang
to all his friends. He delighted in devising new titles for them,--they
were his 'twin wives,' his 'dear Both,' his 'Amours.' For them in this
year he began writing the charming little volume of _Reminiscences
of the Courts of George the 1st and 2nd_, and in December, 1789, he
dedicated to them his _Catalogue of Strawberry Hill_. It was not long
before he had secured them a home at Teddington and finally, when, in
1791, Cliveden became vacant, he prevailed upon them to become his
neighbours. He afterwards bequeathed the house to them, and for many
years after his death, it was their summer residence. On either side
the acquaintance was advantageous. His friendship at once introduced
them to the best and most accomplished fashionable society of their
day, while the charm of their 'company, conversation and talents' must
have inexpressibly sweetened and softened what, on his part, had begun
to grow more and more a solitary, joyless, and painful old age.
His establishment of his 'wives' in his immediate vicinity was not,
however, accomplished without difficulty. For a moment some ill-natured
newspaper gossip, which attributed the attachment of the Berry family
to interested motives, so justly aroused the indignation of the elder
sister that the whole arrangement threatened to collapse. But the
slight estrangement thus caused soon passed away; and at the close of
1791, they took up their abode in Mrs. Clive's old house, now doubly
honoured. On the 5th of the December in the same year, after a fresh
fit of frenzy, Walpole's nephew died, and he became fourth Earl of
Orford. The new dignity was by no means a welcome one, and scarcely
compensated for the cares which it entailed. 'A small estate, loaded
with debt, and of which I do not understand the management, and am too
old to learn; a source of law suits amongst my near relations, though
not affecting me; endless conversations with lawyers, and packets of
letters to read every day and answer,--all this weight of new business
is too much for the rag of life that yet hangs about me, and was
preceded by three weeks of anxiety about my unfortunate nephew, and a
daily correspondence with physicians and mad-doctors, falling upon me
when I had been out of order ever since July.'[191] 'For the other
empty metamorphosis,' he writes to Hannah More, 'that has happened to
the outward man, you do me justice in concluding that it can do nothing
but tease me; it is being called names in one's old age. I had rather
be my Lord Mayor, for then I should keep the nickname but a year; and
mine I may retain a little longer,--not that at seventy-five I reckon
on becoming my Lord Methusalem.' For some time he could scarcely
bring himself to use his new signature, and occasionally varied it by
describing himself as 'The uncle of the late Earl of Orford.' In 1792,
he delivered himself, after the fashion of Cowley, of the following
_Epitaphium vivi Auctoris_:--
'An estate and an earldom at seventy-four!
Had I sought them or wished them, 'twould add one fear more,--
That of making a countess when almost four-score.
But Fortune, who scatters her gifts out of season,
Though unkind to my limbs, has still left me my reason;
And whether she lowers or lifts me, I'll try,
In the plain simple style I have lived in, to die:
For ambition too humble, for manners too high.'
[191] _Walpole to Pinkerton_, 26 Dec., 1791.
The last line seems like another of the many echoes of Goldsmith's
_Retaliation_. As for the fear indicated in the third, it is hinted
that this at one time bade fair to be something more than a poetical
apprehension. If we are to credit a tradition handed down by Lord
Lansdowne, he had been willing to go through the form of marriage with
either of the Berrys, merely to secure their society, and to enrich
them, as he had the power of charging the Orford estate with a jointure
of £2000 per annum. But this can only have been a passing thought at
some moment when their absence, in Italy or elsewhere, left him more
sensitive to the loss of their gracious and stimulating presence. He
himself was far too keenly alive to ridicule, and too much in bondage
to _les bienséances_, to take a step which could scarcely escape
ill-natured comment; and Mary Berry, who would certainly have been his
preference, was not only as fully alive as was he to the shafts of the
censorious, but, during the greater part of her acquaintanceship with
him, was, apparently with his knowledge, warmly attached to a certain
good-looking General O'Hara, who, a year before Walpole's death,
in November, 1796, definitely proposed. He had just been appointed
Governor of Gibraltar, and he wished Miss Berry to marry him at once,
and go out with him. This, 'out of consideration for others,' she
declined to do. A few months later the engagement was broken off, and
she never again saw her soldier admirer. Whether Lord Orford's comfort
went for anything in this adjournment of her happiness, does not
clearly appear; but it is only reasonable to suppose that his tenacious
desire for her companionship had its influence in a decision which,
however much it may have been for the best (and there were those of her
friends who regarded it as a providential escape), was nevertheless a
lifelong source of regret to herself. When, in 1802, she heard suddenly
at the Opera of O'Hara's death, she fell senseless to the floor.
The 'late Horace Walpole' never took his seat in the House of Lords. He
continued, as before, to divide his time between Berkeley Square and
Strawberry, to eulogize his 'wives' to Lady Ossory, and to watch life
from his beloved Blue Room. Now and then he did the rare honours of his
home to a distinguished guest,--in 1793, it was the Duchess of York; in
1795, Queen Charlotte herself. In the latter year died his old friend
Conway, by this time a Field-Marshal; and it was evident at the close
of 1796 that his faithful correspondent would not long survive him.
His ailments had increased, and in the following January, he wrote his
last letter to Lady Ossory:--
Jan. 15, 1797.
MY DEAR MADAM,--
You distress me infinitely by showing my idle notes, which I cannot
conceive can amuse anybody. My old-fashioned breeding impels me every
now and then to reply to the letters you honour me with writing, but
in truth very unwillingly, for I seldom can have anything particular
to say; I scarce go out of my own house, and then only to two or three
very private places, where I see nobody that really knows anything,
and what I learn comes from Newspapers, that collect intelligence from
coffee-houses, consequently what I neither believe nor report. At home
I see only a few charitable elders, except about four-score nephews
and nieces of various ages, who are each brought to me about once
a-year, to stare at me as the Methusalem of the family, and they can
only speak of their own contemporaries, which interest me no more than
if they talked of their dolls, or bats and balls. Must not the result
of all this, Madam, make me a very entertaining correspondent? And can
such letters be worth showing? or can I have any spirit when so old,
and reduced to dictate?
Oh! my good Madam, dispense with me from such a task, and think how
it must add to it to apprehend such letters being shown. Pray send me
no more such laurels, which I desire no more than their leaves when
decked with a scrap of tinsel, and stuck on twelfth-cakes that lie
on the shop-boards of pastry-cooks at Christmas. I shall be quite
content with a sprig of rosemary thrown after me, when the parson of
the parish commits my dust to dust. Till then, pray, Madam, accept the
resignation of your
Ancient servant,
ORFORD.
Six weeks after the date of the above letter, he died at his house
in Berkeley Square, to which he had been moved at the close of the
previous year. During the latter days of his life, he suffered from a
cruel lapse of memory, which led him to suppose himself neglected even
by those who had but just quitted him. He sank gradually, and expired
without pain on the 2nd of March, 1797, being then in his eightieth
year. He was buried at the family seat of Houghton.
His fortune, over and above his leases, amounted to ninety-one thousand
pounds. To each of the Miss Berrys he left the sum of £4000 for their
lives, together with the house and garden of 'Little Strawberry'
(Cliveden), the long meadow in front of it, and all the furniture. He
also bequeathed to them and to their father his printed works and his
manuscripts, with discretionary power to publish. It was understood
that the real editorship was to fall on the elder sister, who forthwith
devoted herself to her task. The result was the edition, in five quarto
volumes, of Lord Orford's _Works_, which has been so often referred
to during the progress of these pages, and which appeared in 1798. It
was entirely due to Mary Berry's unremitting care, her father's share
being confined to a final paragraph in the preface, in which she is
eulogized.[192]
[192] Mary Berry died 20th Nov., 1852; Agnes Berry, Jan., 1852. They
were buried in one grave in Petersham churchyard, 'amidst scenes'--says
Lord Carlisle's inscription--'which in life they had frequented &
loved.' H. F. Chorley (_Autobiography_, etc., 1873, vol. i., p. 276)
describes them as 'more like one's notion of ancient Frenchwomen than
anything I have ever seen; rouged, with the remains of some beauty,
managing large fans like the Flirtillas, etc., etc., of Ranelagh.'
See also _Extracts from Miss Berry's Journals and Correspondence_,
1783-1852, edited by Lady Theresa Lewis, 1865.
Strawberry Hill passed to Mrs. Damer for life, together with £2000 to
keep it in repair. After living in it for some years, she resigned it,
in 1811, to the Countess Dowager of Waldegrave, in whom the remainder
in fee was vested. It subsequently passed to George, seventh Earl of
Waldegrave, who sold its contents in 1842. At his death, in 1846, he
left it to his widow, Frances, Countess of Waldegrave, who married the
Rt. Hon. Chichester S. Parkinson-Fortescue, later Lord Carlingford.
Lady Waldegrave died in 1879; but she had greatly added to and extended
the original building, besides restoring many of the objects by which
it had been decorated in Walpole's day.
CHAPTER X.
Macaulay on Walpole.--Effect of the _Edinburgh_ Essay.--Macaulay
and Mary Berry.--Portraits of Walpole.--Miss Hawkins's
Description.--Pinkerton's Rainy Day at Strawberry.--Walpole's
Character as a Man; as a Virtuoso; as a Politician; as an Author and
Letter-writer.
When, in October, 1833, Lord (then Mr.) Macaulay completed for the
_Edinburgh_ his review of Lord Dover's edition of Walpole's letters to
Sir Horace Mann, he had apparently performed to his entire satisfaction
the operation known, in the workmanlike vocabulary of the time, as
'dusting the jacket' of his unfortunate reviewee. 'I was up at four
this morning to put the last touch to it,' he tells his sister Hannah.
'I often differ with the majority about other people's writings,
and still oftener about my own; and therefore I may very likely be
mistaken; but I think that this article will be a hit.... Nothing
ever cost me more pains than the first half; I never wrote anything
so flowingly as the latter half; and I like the latter half the best.
[The latter half, it should be stated, was a rapid and very brilliant
sketch of Sir Robert Walpole; the earlier, which involved so much
labour, was the portrait of Sir Robert's youngest son.] I have laid it
on Walpole [_i. e._, Horace Walpole] so unsparingly,' he goes on to
say, 'that I shall not be surprised if Miss Berry should cut me....
Neither am I sure that Lord and Lady Holland will be well pleased.'[193]
[193] Trevelyan's _Life and Letters of Lord Macaulay_, ch. v.
His later letters show him to have been a true prophet. Macvey
Napier, then the editor of the 'Blue and Yellow,' was enthusiastic,
praising the article 'in terms absolutely extravagant.' 'He says that
it is the best that I ever wrote,' the critic tells his favourite
correspondent,--a statement which at this date must be qualified by
the fact that he penned some of his most famous essays subsequent to
its appearance. On the other hand, Miss Berry resented the review so
much that Sir Stratford Canning advised its author not to go near her.
But apparently her anger was soon dispelled, for the same letter which
makes this announcement relates that she was already appeased. Lady
Holland, too, was 'in a rage,' though with what part of the article
does not transpire, while her good-natured husband told Macaulay
privately that he quite agreed with him, but that they had better not
discuss the subject. Lady Holland's irritation was probably prompted
by her intimacy with the Waldegrave family, to whom the letters edited
by Lord Dover belonged, and for whose benefit they were published.
But, as Macaulay said justly, his article was surely not calculated
to injure the sale of the book. Her imperious ladyship's displeasure,
however, like that of Miss Berry, was of brief duration. Macaulay was
too necessary to her _réunions_ to be long exiled from her little court.
Among those who occupy themselves in such enquiries, it has been matter
for speculation what particular grudge Macaulay could have cherished
against Horace Walpole when, to use his own expression, he laid it on
him 'so unsparingly.' To this his correspondence affords no clue. Mr.
Cunningham holds that he did it 'to revenge the dislike which Walpole
bore to the Bedford faction, the followers of Fox and the Shelburne
school.' It is possible, as another authority has suggested, that 'in
the Whig circles of Macaulay's time, there existed a traditional grudge
against Horace Walpole,' owing to obscure political causes connected
with his influence over his friend Conway. But these reasons do
not seem relevant enough to make Macaulay's famous onslaught a mere
_vendetta_. It is more reasonable to suppose that between his avowed
delight in Walpole as a letter-writer, and his robust contempt for him
as an individual, he found a subject to his hand, which admitted of
all the brilliant antithesis and sparkle of epigram which he lavished
upon it. Walpole's trivialities and eccentricities, his whims and
affectations, are seized with remorseless skill, and presented with
all the rhetorical advantages with which the writer so well knew how
to invest them. As regards his literary estimate, the truth of the
picture can scarcely be gainsaid; but the personal character, as
Walpole's surviving friends felt, is certainly too much _en noir_. Miss
Berry, indeed, in her 'Advertisement' to vol. vi. of Wright's edition
of the _Letters_, raised a gentle cry of expostulation against the
entire representation. She laid stress upon the fact that Macaulay had
not known Walpole in the flesh (a disqualification to which too much
weight may easily be assigned); she dwelt upon the warmth of Walpole's
attachments; she contested the charge of affectation; and, in short,
made such a gallant attempt at a defence as her loyalty to her old
friend enabled her to offer. Yet, if Macaulay had never known Walpole
at all, she herself, it might be urged, had only known him in his old
age. Upon the whole, 'with due allowance for a spice of critical pepper
on one hand, and a handful of friendly rosemary on the other,' as
Croker says, both characters are 'substantially true.' Under Macaulay's
brush Walpole is depicted as he appeared to that critic's masculine
and (for the nonce) unsympathetic spirit; in Miss Berry's picture,
the likeness is touched with a pencil at once grateful, affectionate,
and indulgent. The biographer of to-day, who is neither endeavouring
to portray Walpole in his most favourable aspect, nor preoccupied (as
Cunningham supposed the great Whig essayist to have been) with what
would be thought of his work 'at Woburn, at Kensington, and in Berkeley
Square,' may safely borrow details from the delineation of either
artist.
Of portraits of Walpole (not in words) there is no lack. Besides that
belonging to Mrs. Bedford, described at p. 11, there is the enamel by
Zincke painted in 1745, which is reproduced at p. 71 of vol. i. of
Cunningham's edition of the letters. There is another portrait of him
by Nathaniel Hone, R.A., in the National Portrait Gallery. A more
characteristic presentment than any of these is the little drawing by
Müntz which shows his patron sitting in the Library at Strawberry,
with the Thames and a passing barge seen through the open window. But
his most interesting portraits are two which exhibit him in manhood
and old age. One is the half-length by J. G. Eckardt which once hung
in its black-and-gold frame in the Blue Bedchamber, near the companion
pictures of Gray and Bentley.[194] Like these, it was 'from Vandyck,'
that is to say, it was in a costume copied from that painter, and
depicts the sitter in a laced collar and ruffles, leaning upon a copy
of the _Ædes Walpolianæ_, with a view of part of the Gothic castle in
the distance. The canvas bears at the back the date of 1754, so that
it represents him at the age of seven-and-thirty. The shaven face is
rather lean than thin, the forehead high, the brown hair brushed back
and slightly curled. The eyes are dark, bright, and intelligent, and
the small mouth wears a slight smile. The other, a drawing made for
Samuel Lysons by Sir Thomas Lawrence, is that of a much older man,
having been executed in 1796. The eyelids droop wearily, the thin
lips have a pinched, mechanical urbanity, and the features are worn by
years and ill-health. It was reproduced by T. Evans as a frontispiece
for vol. i. of his works. There are other portraits by Reynolds, 1757
(which McArdell and Reading engraved), by Rosalba, Falconet, and
Dance;[195] but it is sufficient to have indicated those mentioned
above.
[194] This is engraved in vol. ix. of Cunningham, facing the Index;
while the Müntz, above referred to, forms the frontispiece to vol. viii.
[195] The writer of the obituary notice in the _Gentleman's Magazine_
for March, 1797, says that Dance's portrait is 'the only faithful
representation of him [Walpole].' Against this must be set the fact
that it was not selected by the editor of his works; and, besides being
in profile, it is certainly far less pleasing than the Lawrence.
Of the Walpole of later years there are more descriptions than one, and
among these, that given by Miss Hawkins, the daughter of the pompous
author of the _History of Music_, is, if the most familiar, also the
most graphic. Sir John Hawkins was Walpole's neighbour at Twickenham
House, and the _History_ is said to have been undertaken at Walpole's
instance. Miss Hawkins's description is of Walpole as she recalled
him before 1772. 'His figure,' she says, '... was not merely tall,
but more properly _long_ and slender to excess; his complexion, and
particularly his hands, of a most unhealthy paleness.... His eyes were
remarkably bright and penetrating, very dark and lively; his voice
was not strong, but his tones were extremely pleasant, and, if I may
so say, highly gentlemanly. I do not remember his common gait;[196]
he always entered a room in that style of affected delicacy, which
fashion had then made almost natural,--_chapeau bras_ between his hands
as if he wished to compress it, or under his arm, knees bent, and
feet on tip-toe, as if afraid of a wet floor. His dress in visiting
was most usually, in summer when I most saw him, a lavender suit, the
waistcoat embroidered with a little silver, or of white silk worked
in the tambour, partridge silk stockings, and gold buckles, ruffles
and frill generally lace. I remember when a child, thinking him
very much under-dressed if at any time, except in mourning, he wore
hemmed cambric. In summer no powder, but his wig combed straight, and
showing his very smooth pale forehead, and queued behind; in winter
powder.'[197]
[196] It must, by his own account, have been peculiar. 'Walking is not
one of my excellences,' he writes. 'In my best days Mr. Winnington
said I tripped like a peewit; and if I do not flatter myself, my march
at present is more like a dabchick's' (_Walpole to Lady Ossory_, 18
August, 1775).
[197] _Anecdotes, etc._, by L. M. Hawkins, 1822, pp. 105-6.
Pinkerton, who knew Walpole from 1784 until his death, and whose
disappointment of a legacy is supposed, in places, to have mingled a
more than justifiable amount of gall with his ink, has nevertheless
left a number of interesting particulars respecting his habits and
personal characteristics. They are too long to quote entire, but
are, at the same time, too picturesque to be greatly compressed. He
contradicts Miss Hawkins in one respect, for he says Walpole was 'short
and slender,' but 'compact and neatly formed,'--an account which is
confirmed by Müntz's full-length. 'When viewed from behind, he had
somewhat of a boyish appearance, owing to the form of his person, and
the simplicity of his dress.' None of his pictures, says Pinkerton,
'express the placid goodness of his eyes,[198] which would often
sparkle with sudden rays of wit, or dart forth flashes of the most keen
and intuitive intelligence. His laugh was forced and uncouth, and even
his smile not the most pleasing.'
[198] 'I have lately become acquainted with your friend Mr. Walpole,
and am quite charmed with him.'--writes Malone to Lord Charlemont in
1782. 'There is an unaffected benignity and good nature in his manner
that is, I think, irresistibly engaging' (_Hist. MSS. Commission, 12th
Rept., App._, Pt. x., 1891, p. 395).
'His walk was enfeebled by the gout; which, if the editor's memory do
not deceive, he mentioned that he had been tormented with since the age
of twenty-five; adding, at the same time, that it was no hereditary
complaint, his father, Sir Robert Walpole, who always drank ale,
never having known that disorder, and far less his other parent. This
painful complaint not only affected his feet, but attacked his hands
to such a degree that his fingers were always swelled and deformed,
and discharged large chalk-stones once or twice a year; upon which
occasions he would observe, with a smile, that he must set up an inn,
for he could chalk up a score with more ease and rapidity than any man
in England.'
After referring to the strict temperance of his life, Pinkerton goes
on:--
'Though he sat up very late, either writing or conversing, he generally
rose about nine o'clock, and appeared in the breakfast room, his
constant and chosen apartment, with fine vistos towards the Thames. His
approach was proclaimed, and attended, by a favourite little dog, the
legacy of the Marquise du Deffand,[199] and which ease and attention
had rendered so fat that it could hardly move. This was placed beside
him on a small sofa; the tea-kettle, stand, and heater were brought
in, and he drank two or three cups of that liquor out of most rare and
precious ancient porcelain of Japan, of a fine white, embossed with
large leaves. The account of his china cabinet, in his description of
his villa, will show how rich he was in that elegant luxury.... The
loaf and butter were not spared, ... and the dog and the squirrels had
a liberal share of his repast.[200]
[199] Tonton. See note to p. 250.
[200] Another passage in the _Walpoliana_ (i. 71-2) explains this:
'Regularly after breakfast, in the summer season, at least, Mr. Walpole
used to mix bread and milk in a large bason, and throw it out at the
window of the sitting-room, for the squirrels; who, soon after, came
down from the high trees, to enjoy their allowance.'
'Dinner [his hour for which was four] was served up in the small
parlour, or large dining room, as it happened: in winter generally
the former. His valet supported him downstairs;[201] and he ate most
moderately of chicken, pheasant, or any light food. Pastry he disliked,
as difficult of digestion, though he would taste a morsel of venison
pye. Never, but once that [201] 'I cannot go up or down stairs without
being led by a servant. It is _tempus abire_ for me: _lusi satis_'
(_Walpole to Pinkerton_, 15 May, 1794).
he drank two glasses of white-wine, did the editor see him taste any
liquor, except ice-water. A pail of ice was placed under the table, in
which stood a decanter of water, from which he supplied himself with
his favourite beverage....
'If his guest liked even a moderate quantity of wine, he must have
called for it during dinner, for almost instantly after he rang the
bell to order coffee upstairs. Thither he would pass about five
o'clock; and generally resuming his place on the sofa, would sit
till two o'clock in the morning, in miscellaneous chit-chat, full
of singular anecdotes, strokes of wit, and acute observations,
occasionally sending for books or curiosities, or passing to the
library, as any reference happened to arise in conversation. After
his coffee he tasted nothing; but the snuff box of _tabac d'étrennes_
from Fribourg's was not forgotten, and was replenished from a canister
lodged in an ancient marble urn of great thickness, which stood in the
window seat, and served to secure its moisture and rich flavour.
'Such was a private rainy day of Horace Walpole. The forenoon quickly
passed in roaming through the numerous apartments of the house, in
which, after twenty visits, still something new would occur; and he
was indeed constantly adding fresh acquisitions. Sometimes a walk in
the grounds would intervene, on which occasions he would go out in his
slippers through a thick dew; and he never wore a hat. He said that,
on his first visit to Paris, he was ashamed of his effeminacy, when he
saw every little meagre Frenchman, whom even he could have thrown down
with a breath, walking without a hat, which he could not do, without
a certainty of that disease, which the Germans say is endemial in
England, and is termed by the natives _le-catch-cold_.[202] The first
trial cost him a slight fever, but he got over it, and never caught
cold afterwards: draughts of air, damp rooms, windows open at his back,
all situations were alike to him in this respect. He would even show
some little offence at any solicitude, expressed by his guests on such
an occasion, as an idea arising from the seeming tenderness of his
frame; and would say, with a half smile of good-humoured crossness,
"My back is the same with my face, and my neck is like my nose."[203]
His iced water he not only regarded as a preservative from such an
accident, but he would sometimes observe that he thought his stomach
and bowels would last longer than his bones; such conscious vigour and
strength in those parts did he feel from the use of that beverage.'[204]
[202] 'I have persisted'--he tells Gray from Paris in January,
1766--'through this Siberian winter in not adding a grain to my clothes
and in going open-breasted without an under waistcoat.'
[203] He was probably thinking of _Spectator_, No. 228: 'The _Indian_
answered very well to an _European_, who asked him how he could go
naked: I am all Face.' Lord Chesterfield wished his little godson to
have the same advantage. 'I am very willing that he should be _all
face_,' he says in a letter to Arthur Stanhope of 19th October, 1762.
[204] _Walpoliana_, i. xi-xiv.
The only particular that Cunningham adds to this chronicle of his
habits is one too characteristic of the man to be omitted. After dinner
at Strawberry, he says, the smell was removed by 'a censer or pot of
frankincense.' According to the _Description_, etc., there was a tripod
of ormolu kept in the Breakfast Room for this purpose. It is difficult
to identify the 'ancient marble urn of great thickness' in which the
snuff was stored; but it may have been that 'of granite, brought from
one of the Greek Islands, and given to Sir Robert Walpole by Sir
Charles Wager,' which also figures in the Catalogue.
Walpole's character may be considered in a fourfold aspect, as a man,
a virtuoso, a politician, and an author. The first is the least easy
to describe. What strikes one most forcibly is, that he was primarily
and before all an aristocrat, or, as in his own day he would have
been called, a 'person of quality,' whose warmest sympathies were
reserved for those of his own rank. Out of the charmed circle of the
peerage and baronetage, he had few strong connections; and although
in middle life he corresponded voluminously with antiquaries such as
Cole and Zouch, and in the languor of his old age turned eagerly to
the renovating society of young women such as Hannah More and the Miss
Berrys, however high his heart may have placed them, it may be doubted
whether his head ever quite exalted them to the level of Lady Caroline
Petersham, or Lady Ossory, or Her Grace of Gloucester. In a measure,
this would also account for his unsympathetic attitude to some of
the great _literati_ of his day. With Gray he had been at school and
college, which made a difference; but he no doubt regarded Fielding
and Hogarth and Goldsmith and Johnson, apart from their confessed
hostility to 'high life' and his beloved 'genteel comedy,' as gifted
but undesirable outsiders,--'horn-handed breakers of the glebe' in Art
and Letters,--with whom it would be impossible to be as intimately
familiar as one could be with such glorified amateurs as Bunbury and
Lady Lucan and Lady Di. Beauclerk, who were all more or less born
in the purple. To the friends of his own class he was constant and
considerate, and he seems to have cherished a genuine affection for
Conway, George Montagu, and Sir Horace Mann. With regard to Gray, his
relations, it would seem, were rather those of intellectual affinity
and esteem than downright affection. But his closest friends were
women. In them, that is, in the women of his time, he found just that
atmosphere of sunshine and _insouciance_,--those conversational 'lilacs
and nightingales,'--in which his soul delighted, and which were most
congenial to his restless intelligence and easily fatigued temperament.
To have seen him at his best, one should have listened to him, not when
he was playing the antiquary with Ducarel or Conyers Middleton, but
gossipping of ancient green-room scandals at Cliveden, or explaining
the mysteries of the 'Officina Arbuteana' to Madame de Boufflers or
Lady Townshend, or delighting Mary and Agnes Berry, in the half-light
of the Round Drawing Room at Strawberry, with his old stories of Lady
Suffolk and Lady Hervey, and of the monstrous raven, under guise of
which the disembodied spirit of His Majesty King George the First
was supposed to have revisited the disconsolate Duchess of Kendal.
Comprehending thoroughly that cardinal precept of conversation,--'never
to weary your hearer,'--he was an admirable _raconteur_; and his
excellent memory, shrewd perceptions, and volatile wit--all the more
piquant for its never-failing mixture of well-bred malice--must have
made him a most captivating companion. If, as Scott says, his temper
was 'precarious,' it is more charitable to remember that in middle
and later life he was nearly always tormented with a malady seldom
favourable to good humour, than to explain the less amiable details of
his conduct (as does Mr. Croker) by the hereditary taint of insanity.
In a life of eighty years many hot friendships cool, even with tempers
not 'precarious.' As regards the charges sometimes made against him
of coldness and want of generosity, very good evidence would be
required before they could be held to be established; and a man is not
necessarily niggardly because his benefactions do not come up to the
standard of all the predatory members of the community. It is besides
clear, as Conway and Madame du Deffand would have testified, that he
could be royally generous when necessity required. That he was careful
rather than lavish in his expenditure must be admitted. It may be
added that he was very much in bondage to public opinion, and morbidly
sensitive to ridicule.
As a virtuoso and amateur, his position is a mixed one. He was
certainly widely different from that typical art connoisseur of his
day,--the butt of Goldsmith and of Reynolds,--who travelled the
Grand Tour to litter a gallery at home with broken-nosed busts and
the rubbish of the Roman picture-factories. As the preface to the
_Ædes Walpolianæ_ showed, he really knew something about painting,
in fact was a capable draughtsman himself; and besides, through Mann
and others, had enjoyed exceptional opportunities for procuring
genuine antiques. But his collection was not so rich in this way as
might have been anticipated; and his portraits, his china, and his
miniatures were probably his best possessions. For the rest, he was
an indiscriminate rather than an eclectic collector; and there was
also considerable truth in that strange 'attraction from the great
to the little, and from the useful to the odd,' which Macaulay has
noted. Many of the marvels at Strawberry would never have found a
place in the treasure-houses--say of Beckford or Samuel Rogers. It
is difficult to fancy Bermingham's fables in paper on looking-glass,
or Hubert's cardcuttings, or the fragile mosaics of Mrs. Delany
either at Fonthill or St. James's Place. At the same time, it should
be remembered that several of the most trivial or least defensible
objects were presents which possibly reflected rather the charity of
the recipient than the good taste of the giver. All the articles over
which Macaulay lingers--Wolsey's hat, Van Tromp's pipe-case, and King
William's spurs--were obtained in this way; and (with a laugher) Horace
Walpole, who laughed a good deal himself, would probably have made as
merry as the most mirth-loving spectator could have desired. But such
items gave a heterogeneous character to the gathering, and turned what
might have been a model museum into an old curiosity-shop. In any case,
however, it was a memorable curiosity-shop, and in this modern era of
_bric-à-brac_ would probably attract far more serious attention than
it did in those practical and pre-æsthetic days of 1842, when it fell
under the hammer of George Robins.[205]
[205] See Mr. Robins's _Catalogue of the Classic Contents of Strawberry
Hill_, etc. (1842), 4to. It is compiled in his well-known grandiloquent
manner; but includes an account of the Castle by Harrison Ainsworth,
together with many interesting details. It gave rise to a humorous
squib by Crofton Croker, entitled _Gooseberry Hall_, with 'Puffatory
Remarks,' and cuts.
Walpole's record as a politician is a brief one, and if his influence
upon the questions of his time was of any importance, it must have been
exercised unobtrusively. During the period of the 'great Walpolean
battle,' as Junius styled the struggle that culminated in the downfall
of Lord Orford, he was a fairly regular attendant in the House of
Commons; and, as we have seen, spoke in his father's behalf when the
motion was made for an enquiry into his conduct. Nine years later, he
moved the address, and a few years later still, delivered a speech upon
the employment of Swiss Regiments in the Colonies. Finally he resigned
his 'senatorial dignity,' quitting the scene with the valediction of
those who depreciate what they no longer desire to retain. 'What could
I see but sons and grandsons playing over the same knaveries, that I
have seen their fathers and grandfathers act? Could I hear oratory
beyond my Lord Chatham's? Will there ever be parts equal to Charles
Townshend's? Will George Grenville cease to be the most tiresome of
beings?'[206] In his earlier days he was a violent Whig,--at times
almost a Republican' (to which latter phase of his opinions must be
attributed the transformation of King Charles's death-warrant into
'Major Charta'); 'in his old and enfeebled age,' says Miss Berry,
'the horrors of the first French Revolution made him a Tory; while he
always lamented, as one of the worst effects of its excesses, that
they must necessarily retard to a distant period the progress and
establishment of religious liberty.' He deplored the American War, and
disapproved the Slave Trade; but, in sum, it is to be suspected that
his main interest in politics, after his father's death, and apart
from the preservation throughout an 'age of small factions' of his own
uncertain sinecures, was the good and ill fortune of the handsome and
amiable, but moderately eminent statesman, General Conway. It was for
Conway that he took his most active steps in the direction of political
intrigue; and perhaps his most important political utterance is the
_Counter Address to the Public on the late Dismission of a General
Officer_, which was prompted by Conway's deprivation of his command for
voting in the opposition with himself in the debate upon the illegality
of general warrants. Whether he would have taken office if it had been
offered to him, may be a question; but his attitude, as disclosed
by his letters, is a rather hesitating _nolo episcopari_. The most
interesting result of his connection with public affairs is the series
of sketches of political men dispersed through his correspondence,
and through the posthumous _Memoirs_ published by Lord Holland and
Sir Denis Le Marchant. Making every allowance for his prejudices
and partisanship (and of neither can Walpole be acquitted), it is
impossible not to regard these latter as highly important contributions
to historical literature. Even Mr. Croker admits that they contain 'a
considerable portion of voluntary or involuntary truth;' and such an
admission, when extorted from Lord Beaconsfield's 'Rigby,' of whom no
one can justly say that he was ignorant of the politics of Walpole's
day, has all the weight which attaches to a testimonial from the
enemy.[207]
[206] _Walpole to Montagu_, 12 March, 1768.
[207] The full titles of these memoirs are _Memoires of the last Ten
Years of the Reign of King George II._ Edited by Lord Holland. 2 vols.
4to., 1822; and _Memoirs of the Reign of King George III._ Edited, with
Notes, by Sir Denis Le Marchant, Bart. 4 vols. 8vo., 1845. Both were
reviewed, _more suo_, by Mr. Croker in the _Quarterly_, with the main
intention of proving that all Walpole's pictures of his contemporaries
were coloured and distorted by successive disappointments arising
out of his solicitude concerning the patent places from which he
derived his income,--in other words (Mr. Croker's words!), that
'the whole is "a copious polyglot of spleen."' Such an investigation
was in the favourite line of the critic, and might be expected to
result in a formidable indictment. But the best judges hold it to
have been exaggerated, and to-day the method of Mr Croker is more or
less discredited. Indeed, it is an instance of those quaint revenges
of the whirligig of Time, that some of his utterances are really
more applicable to himself than to Walpole. 'His [Walpole's] natural
inclination [says Croker] was to grope an obscure way through mazes and
_souterrains_ rather than walk the high road by daylight. He is never
satisfied with the plain and obvious cause of any effect, and is for
ever striving after some tortuous solution.' This is precisely what
unkind modern critics affirm of the Rt. Honourable John Wilson Croker.
This mention of the _Memoirs_ naturally leads us to that final
consideration, the position of Walpole as an author. Most of the
productions which fill the five bulky volumes given to the world in
1798 by Miss Berry's pious care have been referred to in the course
of the foregoing pages, and it is not necessary to recapitulate them
here. The place which they occupy in English literature was never a
large one, and it has grown smaller with lapse of time. Walpole, in
truth, never took letters with sufficient seriousness. He was willing
enough to obtain repute, but upon condition that he should be allowed
to despise his calling and laugh at 'thoroughness.' If masterpieces
could have been dashed off at a hand-gallop; if antiquarian studies
could have been made of permanent value by the exercise of mere elegant
facility; if a dramatic reputation could have been secured by the
simple accumulation of horrors upon Horror's head,--his might have
been a great literary name. But it is not thus the severer Muses are
cultivated; and Walpole's mood was too variable, his industry too
intermittent, his fine-gentleman self-consciousness too inveterate, to
admit of his producing anything that (as one of his critics has said)
deserves a higher title than '_opuscula_.' His essays in the _World_
lead one to think that he might have made a more than respectable
essayist, if he had not fallen upon days in which that form of writing
was practically outworn; and it is manifest that he would have been
an admirable writer of familiar poetry if he could have forgotten the
fallacy (exposed by Johnson)[208] that easy verse is easy to write.
Nevertheless, in the Gothic romance which was suggested by his Gothic
castle--for, to speak paradoxically, Strawberry Hill is almost as
much as Walpole the author of the _Castle of Otranto_--he managed to
initiate a new form of fiction; and by decorating 'with gay strings
the gatherings of Vertue' he preserved serviceably, in the _Anecdotes
of Painting_, a mass of curious, if sometimes uncritical, information
which, in other circumstances, must have been hopelessly lost. If
anything else of his professed literary work is worthy of recollection,
it must be a happy squib such as the _Letter of Xo Ho_, a fable such as
_The Entail_, or an essay such as the pamphlet on Landscape Gardening,
which even Croker allows to be 'a very elegant history and happy
elucidation of that charming art.'[209]
[208] _Idler_, No. lxxvii. (6 Oct., 1759).
[209] See Appendix, p. 320. To the advocates of the rival school
Walpole's utterance, perhaps inevitably, appears in a less favourable
light. 'Horace Walpole published an _Essay on Modern Gardening_ in
1785, in which he repeated what other writers had said on the subject.
This was at once translated, and had a great circulation on the
Continent. The _jardin à l'Anglaise_ became the rage; many beautiful
old gardens were destroyed in France and elsewhere; and Scotch and
English gardeners were in demand all over Europe to renovate gardens in
the English manner. It is not an exhilarating thought that in the one
instance in which English taste in a matter of design has taken hold
on the Continent, it has done so with such disastrous results' (_The
Formal Garden in England_, 2nd edn., 1892, p. 86).
But it is not by his professedly literary work that he has acquired
the reputation which he retains and must continue to retain. It
is as a letter-writer that he survives; and it is upon the vast
correspondence, of which, even now, we seem scarcely to have reached
the limits, that is based his surest claim _volitare per ora virum_.
The qualities which are his defects in more serious productions become
merits in his correspondence; or, rather, they cease to be defects.
No one looks for prolonged effort in a gossipping epistle; a weighty
reasoning is less important than a light hand; and variety pleases more
surely than symmetry of structure. Among the little band of those who
have distinguished themselves in this way, Walpole is in the foremost
rank,--nay, if wit and brilliancy, without gravity or pathos, are to
rank highest, he is first. It matters nothing whether he wrote easily
or with difficulty; whether he did, or did not, make minutes of apt
illustrations or descriptive incidents: the result is delightful. For
diversity of interest and perpetual entertainment, for the constant
surprises of an unique species of wit, for happy and unexpected turns
of phrase, for graphic characterization and clever anecdote, for
playfulness, pungency, irony, persiflage, there is nothing in English
like his correspondence. And when one remembers that, in addition,
this correspondence constitutes a sixty-years' social chronicle of
a specially picturesque epoch by one of the most picturesque of
picturesque chroniclers, there can be no need to bespeak any further
suffrage for Horace Walpole's 'incomparable letters.'
APPENDIX.
BOOKS PRINTED AT THE STRAWBERRY HILL PRESS.
⁂ The following list contains all the books mentioned in the
_Description of the Villa of Mr. Horace Walpole_, etc., 1784, together
with those issued between that date and Walpole's death. It does _not_
include the several title-pages and labels which he printed from
time to time, or the quatrains and verses purporting to be addressed
by the Press to Lady Rochford, Lady Townshend, Madame de Boufflers,
the Miss Berrys, and others. Nor does it comprise the pieces struck
off by Mr. Kirgate, the printer, for the benefit of himself and his
friends. On the other hand, all the works enumerated here are, with
three exceptions, described from copies either in the possession of the
present writer, or to be found in the British Museum and the Dyce and
Forster Libraries at South Kensington.
1757.
Odes by Mr. Gray. [Greek: Phônanta synethoisi]--Pindar, Olymp. II.
[Strawberry Hill Bookplate.] _Printed at Strawberry-Hill, for R. and
J. Dodsley in Pall-Mall, MDCCLVII._
Half-title, 'Odes by Mr. Gray. [Price one Shilling.]'; Title as
above; Text, pp. 5-21. 4to. 1,000 copies printed. 'June 25th [1757],
I erected a printing-press at my house at Strawberry Hill.' 'Aug.
8th, I published two Odes by Mr. Gray, the first production of my
press' (_Short Notes_). 'And with what do you think we open? _Cedite,
Romani Impressores_,--with nothing under _Graii Carmina_. I found him
[Gray] in town last week: he had brought his two Odes to be printed.
I snatched them out of Dodsley's hands' ... (_Walpole to Chute_, 12
July, 1757). 'I send you two copies (one for Dr. Cocchi) of a very
honourable opening of my press,--two amazing Odes of Mr. Gray; they
are Greek, they are Pindaric, they are sublime! consequently, I
fear, a little obscure' (_Walpole to Mann_, 4 Aug., 1757). 'You are
very particular, I can tell you, in liking Gray's Odes; but you must
remember that the age likes Akenside, and did like Thomson! Can the
same people like both?' (_Walpole to Montagu_, 25 Aug., 1757).
To Mr. Gray, on his Odes. [By David Garrick.]
Single leaf, containing six quatrains (24 lines). 4to. Only six copies
are said to have been printed; but it is not improbable that there
were more. There is a copy in the Dyce Collection at South Kensington.
A Journey into England. By Paul Hentzner, in the year M.D.XC.VIII.
[Strawberry Hill Bookplate.] _Printed at Strawberry-Hill, MDCCLVII._
Title, Dedication (2 leaves); 'Advertisement,' i-x; half-title; Latin
and English Text on opposite pages, 1 to 103 (double numbers). Sm.
8vo. 220 copies printed. 'In Oct., 1757, was finished at my press an
edition of Hentznerus, translated by Mr. Bentley, to which I wrote
an advertisement. I dedicated it to the Society of Antiquaries, of
which I am a member' (_Short Notes_). 'An edition of Hentznerus, with
a version by Mr. Bentley, and a little preface of mine, were prepared
[_i. e._, as the first issue of the press], but are to wait [for
Gray's _Odes_]' (_Walpole to Chute_, 12 July, 1757).
1758.
A Catalogue of the Royal and Noble Authors of England, with Lists of
their Works. _Dove, diavolo! Messer Ludovico, avete pigliato tante
coglionerie?_ Card. d'Este, to Ariosto. Vol. i. [Strawberry Hill
Bookplate.] _Printed at Strawberry-Hill. MDCCLVIII._
---- Vol. ii. [Strawberry Hill Bookplate.] _Printed at
Strawberry-Hill. MDCCLVIII._
Vol. i.,--Title; Dedication of 2 leaves to Lord Hertford;
Advertisement, pp. i-viii; half-title; Text, pp. 1-219, and unpaged
Index. There is also a frontispiece engraved by Grignion. Vol.
ii.,--Half-title; Title; Text, pp. 1-215, and unpaged Index. 8vo.
300 copies issued. A second edition, 'corrected and enlarged,' was
printed in 1758 (but dated 1759), in two vols. 8vo., 'for R. and J.
Dodsley, in Pallmall; and J. Graham in the Strand.' According to Baker
(_Catalogue of Books, etc., printed at the Press at Strawberry Hill_
[1810]), 40 copies of a supplement or Postscript to the _Royal and
Noble Authors_ were printed by Kirgate in 1786. 'In April, 1758, was
finished the first impression of my "Catalogue of Royal and Noble
Authors," which I had written the preceding year in less than five
months' (_Short Notes_). 'My book is marvellously in fashion, to my
great astonishment. I did not expect so much truth and such notions
of liberty would have made their fortune in this our day' (_Walpole
to Montagu_, 4 May, 1758). 'Dec. 5th [1758] was published the second
edition of my "Catalogue of Royal and Noble Authors." Two thousand
were printed, but _not_ at Strawberry Hill' (_Short Notes_). 'I have
but two motives for offering you the accompanying trifle [_i. e._, the
Postscript above referred to].... Coming from my press, I wish it may
be added to your Strawberry editions. It is so far from being designed
for the public that I have printed but forty copies' (_Walpole to
Hannah More_, 1 Jan., 1787).
An Account of Russia as it was in the Year 1710. By Charles Lord
Whitworth. [Strawberry Hill Bookplate.] _Printed at Strawberry-Hill.
MDCCLVIII._
Title, 'Advertisement' pp. i-xxiv; Text, pp. 1-158; Errata, one
page. Sm. 8vo. 700 copies printed. 'The beginning of October [1758]
I published Lord Whitworth's account of Russia, to which I wrote
the advertisement' (_Short Notes_). 'A book has been left at your
ladyship's house; it is Lord Whitworth's Account of Russia' (_Walpole
to Lady Hervey_, 17 Oct., 1758). Mr. (afterwards Lord) Whitworth was
Ambassador to St. Petersburg in the reign of Peter the Great.
The Mistakes; or, the Happy Resentment. A Comedy. By the late Lord *
* * * [Henry Hyde, Lord Hyde and Cornbury.] _London: Printed by S.
Richardson, in the Year 1758._
Title; List of Subscribers, pp. xvi; Advertisement, Prologue, and
_Dramatis Personæ_, 2 leaves; Text, 1-83; Epilogue unpaged. Baker
gives the following particulars from the _Biographia Dramatica_ as to
this book: 'The Author of this Piece was the learned, ingenious, and
witty LORD CORNBURY, but it was never acted. He made a present of it
to that great Actress, Mrs. PORTER, to make what Emolument she could
by it. And that Lady, after his Death, published it by Subscription,
at Five Shillings, each Book, which was so much patronized by the
Nobility and Gentry that Three Thousand Copies were disposed of.
Prefixed to it is a Preface, by Mr. HORACE WALPOLE, at whose Press at
Strawberry-Hill it was printed.' Baker adds, 'Mr. Yardley, who when
living, kept a Bookseller's Shop in New-Inn-Passage, confirmed this
account, by asserting, that he assisted in printing it at that Press.'
But Baker nevertheless prefixes an asterisk to the title, which
implies that it was 'not printed for Mr. Walpole,' and this probably
accounts for Richardson's name on the title-page. By the subscription
list, the Hon. Horace Walpole took 21 copies, David Garrick, 38, and
Mr. Samuel Richardson, of Salisbury Court, 4. All Walpole says is,
'About the same time [1758] Mrs. Porter published [for her benefit]
Lord Hyde's play, to which I had written the advertisement' (_Short
Notes_).
A Parallel; in the Manner of Plutarch: between a most celebrated
Man of Florence; and One, scarce ever heard of, in England. By the
Reverend Mr. Spence. '--_Parvis componere magna_'--Virgil. [Portrait
in circle of Magliabecchi.] _Printed at Strawberry-Hill, by William
Robinson; and Sold by Messieurs Dodsley, at Tully's-Head, Pall-Mall;
for the Benefit of Mr. Hill. M.DCC.LVIII._
Title; Text, pp. 4-104. Sm. 8vo. 700 copies printed. '1759. Feb. 2nd.
I published Mr. Spence's Parallel of Magliabecchi and Mr. Hill, a
tailor of Buckingham; calculated to raise a little sum of money for
the latter poor man. Six hundred copies were sold in a fortnight,
and it was reprinted in London' (_Short Notes_). 'Mr. Spence's
Magliabecchi is published to-day from Strawberry; I believe you saw
it, and shall have it; but 'tis not worth sending you on purpose'
(_Walpole to Chute_, 2 Feb., 1759).
Fugitive Pieces in Verse and Prose. _Pereunt et imputantur._
[Strawberry Hill Bookplate.] _Printed at Strawberry-Hill, MDCCLVIII._
Title; Dedication and 'Table of Contents,' iii-vi; Text, 1-219. Sm.
8vo. 200 copies printed. 'In the summer of 1758, I printed some of my
own Fugitive Pieces, and dedicated them to my cousin, General Conway'
(_Short Notes_). 'March 17 [1759]. I began to distribute some copies
of my "Fugitive Pieces," collected and printed together at Strawberry
Hill, and dedicated to General Conway' (_ibid._). One of these, which
is in the Forster Collection at South Kensington, went to Gray. 'This
Book [says a MS. inscription] once belonged to Gray the Poet, and
has his autograph on the Title-page. I [_i. e._, George Daniel, of
Canonbury] bought it at Messrs. Sotheby and Wilkinson's Sale Rooms for
£1. 19 on Thursday, 28 Augt. 1851, from the valuable collection of Mr.
Penn of Stoke.'
1760.
Catalogue of the Pictures and Drawings in the Holbein Chamber at
Strawberry Hill. _Strawberry-Hill, 1760._
Pp. 8. 8vo. [Lowndes.]
Catalogue of the Collection, of Pictures of the Duke of Devonshire,
General Guise, and the late Sir Paul Methuen. _Strawberry-Hill, 1760._
Pp. 44. 8vo. 12 copies, printed on one side only. [Lowndes.]
M. Annæi Lucani Pharsalia cum Notis Hugonis Grotii, et Richardi
Bentleii. _Multa sunt condonanda in opere postumo._ In Librum iv, Nota
641. [Emblematical vignette.] _Strawberry-Hill, MDCCLX._
Title, Dedication (by Richard Cumberland to Halifax), and
Advertisement (_Ad Lectorem_), 3 leaves; Text, pp. 1-525. 4to. 500
copies printed. Cumberland took up the editing when Bentley the
younger resigned it. 'I am just undertaking an edition of Lucan, my
friend Mr. Bentley having in his possession his father's notes and
emendations on the first seven books' (_Walpole to Zouch_, 9 Dec.,
1758). 'I would not _alone_ undertake to correct the press; but I am
so lucky as to live in the strictest friendship with Dr. Bentley's
only son, who, to all the ornament of learning, has the amiable turn
of mind, disposition, and easy wit' (_Walpole to Zouch_, 12 Jan.,
1759). 'Lucan is in poor forwardness. I have been plagued with a
succession of bad printers, and am not got beyond the fourth book. It
will scarce appear before next winter' (_Walpole to Zouch_, 23 Dec.,
1759). 'My Lucan is finished, but will not be published till after
Christmas' (_Walpole to Zouch_, 27 Nov., 1760). 'I have delivered to
your brother ... a Lucan, printed at Strawberry, which, I trust, you
will think a handsome edition' (_Walpole to Mann_, 27 Jan., 1761).
1762.
Anecdotes of Painting in England; with some Account of the principal
Artists; and incidental Notes on other Arts; collected by the late
Mr. George Vertue; and now digested and published from his original
MSS. By Mr. Horace Walpole. _Multa renascentur quæ jam cecidere._
Vol. I. [Device with Walpole's crest.] _Printed by Thomas Farmer at
Strawberry-Hill, MDCCLXII._
------ _Le sachant Anglois, je crus qu'il m'alloit parler d'edifices
et de peintures._ Nouvelle Eloise, vol. i. p. 245. Vol. II. [Device
with Walpole's crest.] _Printed by Thomas Farmer at Strawberry-Hill,
MDCCLXII._
------ Vol. III. (Motto of six lines from Prior's _Protogenes and
Apelles_.) _Strawberry-Hill: Printed in the Year MDCCLXIII._
------ To which is added the History of the Modern Taste in Gardening.
_The Glory of_ Lebanon _shall come unto thee, the Fir-tree, the
Pine-tree, and the Box together, to beautify the Place of my
Sanctuary, and I will make the Place of my Feet glorious_. Isaiah, lx.
13. Volume the Fourth and last. _Strawberry-Hill: Printed by Thomas
Kirgate, MDCCLXXI._
Vol. i.,--Title, Dedication, Preface, pp. i-xiii; Contents; Text, pp.
1-168, with Appendix and Index unpaged. Vol. ii.,--Title; Text, pp.
1-158, with Appendix, Index, and 'Errata' unpaged; and 'Additional
Lives to the First Edition of Anecdotes of Painting in England,' pp.
1-12. Vol. iii.,--Title; pp. 1-155, with Appendix and Index unpaged;
and 'Additional Lives to the First Edition of Anecdotes of Painting
in England,' pp. 1-4. Vol. iv.,--Title, Dedication, Advertisement
(dated October 1, 1780), pp. i-x; Contents; Text, pp. 1-151 (dated
August 12, 1770); 'Errata;' pp. x-52; Appendix of one leaf ('Prints
by or after Hogarth, discovered since the Catalogue was finished'),
and Index unpaged. The volumes are 4to., with many portraits and
plates. 600 copies were printed. The fourth volume was in type in
1770, but not issued until Oct., 1780. It was dedicated to the Duke
of Richmond,--Lady Hervey, to whom the three earlier volumes had been
inscribed, having died in 1768. A second edition of the first three
volumes was printed by Thomas Kirgate at Strawberry Hill in 1765.
'Sept. 1st [1759]. I began to look over Mr. Vertue's MSS., which I
bought last year for one hundred pounds, in order to compose the Lives
of English Painters' (_Short Notes_). '1760, Jan. 1st. I began the
Lives of English Artists, from Vertue's MSS. (that is, "Anecdotes of
Painting," etc.)' (_ibid._). 'Aug. 14th. Finished the first volume of
my "Anecdotes of Painting in England." Sept. 5th, began the second
volume. Oct. 23d, finished the second volume' (_ibid._). '1761, Jan.
4th, began the third volume' (_ibid._). 'June 29th, resumed the third
volume of my "Anecdotes of Painting," which I had laid aside after
the first day' (_ibid._). 'Aug. 22nd, finished the third volume of
my "Anecdotes of Painting"' (_ibid._). 'The "Anecdotes of Painting"
have succeeded to the press: I have finished two volumes; but as
there will at least be a third, I am not determined whether I shall
not wait to publish the whole together. You will be surprised, I
think, to see what a quantity of materials the industry of one man
[Vertue] could amass!' (_Walpole to Zouch_, 27 Nov., 1760.) 'You
drive your expectations much too fast, in thinking my "Anecdotes of
Painting" are ready to appear, in demanding three volumes. You will
see but _two_, and it will be February first' (_Walpole to Montagu_,
30 Dec., 1761). 'I am now publishing the third volume, and another of
Engravers' (_Walpole to Dalrymple_, 31 Jan., 1764). 'I have advertised
my long-delayed last volume of "Painters" to come out, and must be in
town to distribute it' (_Walpole to Lady Ossory_, 23 Sept., 1780).
'I have left with Lord Harcourt for you my new old last volume of
"Painters"' (_Walpole to Mason_, 13 Oct., 1780).
1763.
A Catalogue of Engravers, who have been born, or resided in England;
digested by Mr. Horace Walpole from the MSS. of Mr. George Vertue; to
which is added an Account of the Life and Works of the latter. _And
Art reflected Images to Art...._ Pope. _Strawberry-Hill: Printed in
the Year MDCCLXIII._
Title; pp. 1-128, last page dated 'Oct. 10th, 1762;' 'Life of Mr.
George Vertue' pp. 1-14; 'List of Vertue's Works,' pp. 1-20, last page
dated 'Oct. 22d, 1762;' Index of Names of Engravers, unpaged. 4to.
There are several portraits, including one of Vertue after Richardson.
'Aug. 2nd [1762], began the "Catalogue of Engravers." October 10th,
finished it' (_Short Notes_). 'The volume of Engravers is printed off,
and has been some time; I only wait for some of the plates' (_Walpole
to Cole_, 8 Oct., 1763). 'I am now publishing the third volume [of the
'Anecdotes of Painting'], and another of "Engravers"' (_Walpole to
Dalrymple_, 31 Jan., 1764).
1764.
Poems by Anna Chamber Countess Temple. [Plate of Strawberry Hill.]
_Strawberry-Hill: Printed in the Year MDCCLXIV._
Title, Verses signed 'Horace Walpole, January 26th, 1764,' Text, 1-34
in all. 4to. 100 copies printed by Prat. 'I shall send you, too, Lady
Temple's Poems' (_Walpole to Montagu_, 16 July, 1764).
The Magpie and her Brood, a Fable, from the Tales of Bonaventure des
Periers, Valet de Chambre to the Queen of Navarre; addressed to Miss
Hotham.
4 pp., containing 72 lines,--initialed 'H. W.' 4to. 'Oct. 15th, [1764]
wrote the fable of "The Magpie and her Brood" for Miss [Henrietta]
Hotham, then near eleven years old, great niece of Henrietta Hobart,
Countess Dowager of Suffolk. It was taken from _Les Nouvelles
Récréations de Bonaventure des Periers_, Valet-de-Chambre to the Queen
of Navarre' (_Short Notes_).
The Life of Edward Lord Herbert of Cherbury, written by Himself.
[Plate of Strawberry Hill.] _Strawberry-Hill: Printed by Prat in the
Year MDCCLXIV._
Title, Dedication, and Advertisement, 5 leaves; Text, pp. 1-171.
Folding plate portrait. 4to. 200 copies printed. '1763. Beginning of
September wrote the Dedication and Preface to Lord Herbert's Life'
(_Short Notes_). 'I have got a most delectable work to print, which I
had great difficulty to obtain, and which I must use while I can have
it. It is the life of the famous Lord Herbert of Cherbury' (_Letter
to the Bishop of Carlisle_, 10 July, 1763). 'It will not be long
before I have the pleasure of sending you by far the most curious and
entertaining book that my press has produced.... It is the life of
the famous Lord Herbert of Cherbury, and written by himself,--of the
contents I will not anticipate one word' (_Letter to Mason_, 29 Dec.,
1763). 'The thing most in fashion is my edition of Lord Herbert's
Life; people are mad after it, I believe because only two hundred were
printed' (_Letter to Montagu_, 16 Dec., 1764). 'This singular work
was printed from the original MS. in 1764, at Strawberry-hill, and is
perhaps the most extraordinary account that ever was given seriously
by a wise man of himself' (Walpole, _Works_, 1798, i. 363).
1768.
Cornélie, Vestale. Tragédie. [By the President Hénault.] _Imprimée à
Strawberry-Hill, MDCCLXVIII._
Title; Dedication '_à Mons. Horace Walpole_,' dated '_Paris ce 27
Novembre, 1767_,' pp. iii-iv; 'Acteurs;' Text, 1-91. 8vo. 200 copies
printed; 150 went to Paris. Kirgate printed it. 'My press is revived,
and is printing a French play written by the old President Hénault.
It was damned many years ago at Paris, and yet I think is better than
some that have succeeded, and much better than any of _our_ modern
tragedies. I print it to please the old man, as he was exceedingly
kind to me at Paris; but I doubt whether he will live till it is
finished. He is to have a hundred copies, and there are to be but an
hundred more, of which you shall have one' (_Letter to Montagu_, 15
April, 1768). President Hénault died November, 1770, aged eighty-six.
The Mysterious Mother. A Tragedy. By Mr. Horace Walpole. _Sit mihi fas
audita loqui!_ Virgil. _Printed at Strawberry-Hill: MDCCLXVIII._
Title, 'Errata,' 'Persons' (2 leaves); Text, pp. 1-120, with
Postscript, pp. 1-10 (which see for origin of play). Sm. 8vo. 50
copies issued. _The Mysterious Mother_ is reprinted in Walpole's
_Works_, 1798, i., pp. 37-129. 'March 15 [1768]. I finished a tragedy
called "The Mysterious Mother," which I had begun Dec. 25, 1766'
(_Short Notes_). 'I thank you for myself, not for my Play.... I accept
with great thankfulness what you have voluntarily been so good as to
do for me; and should the Mysterious Mother ever be performed when I
am dead, it will owe to you its presentation' (_Walpole to Mason_, 11
May, 1769).
1769.
Poems by the Reverend Mr. Hoyland. _Printed at Strawberry Hill:
MDCCLXIX._
Title, Advertisement [by Walpole], pp. i-iv; Text, 1-19. 8vo. 300
copies printed. In the British Museum is a copy which simply has
'Printed in the Year 1769.' 'I enclose a short Advertisement for
Mr. Hoyland's poems. I mean by it to tempt people to a little more
charity, and to soften to him, as much as I can, the humiliation of
its being asked for him; if you approve it, it shall be prefixed to
the edition' (_Walpole to Mason_, 5 April, 1769).
1770.
Reply to the Observations of the Rev. Dr. Milles, Dean of Exeter, and
President of the Society of Antiquaries, on the Ward Robe Account.
Pp. 24. Six copies printed, dated 28 August, 1770 [Baker]. 'In the
summer of this year [1770] wrote an answer to Dr. Milles' remarks on
my "Richard the Third"' (_Short Notes_).
1772.
Copies of Seven Original Letters from King Edward VI. to Barnaby
Fitzpatrick. _Strawberry-Hill._ _Printed_ in the Year _M.DCC.LXXII_.
Pp. viii-14. 4to. 200 copies printed. '1771. End of September, wrote
the Advertisement to the "Letters of King Edward the Sixth"' (_Short
Notes_). 'I have printed "King Edward's Letters," and will bring you a
copy' (_Walpole to Mason_, 6 July, 1772).
Miscellaneous Antiquities; or, a Collection of Curious Papers: either
republished from _scarce Tracts_, or now first printed from _original_
MSS. Number I. To be continued occasionally. _Invenies illic et festa
domestica vobis. Sæpe tibi Pater est, sæpe legendus Avus._ Ovid. Fast.
Lib. 1. _Strawberry-Hill: Printed by Thomas Kirgate, M.DCC.LXXII._
Title, 'Advertisement,' pp. i-iv; Text, 1-48. 4to. 500 copies printed.
'I have since begun a kind of Desiderata Curiosa, and intend to
publish it in numbers, as I get materials; it is to be an Hospital
of Foundlings; and though I shall not take in all that offer, there
will be no enquiry into the nobility of the parents; nor shall I care
how heterogeneous the brats are' (_Walpole to Mason_, 6 July, 1772).
'By that time too I shall have the first number of my "Miscellaneous
Antiquities" ready. The first essay is only a republication of some
tilts and tournaments' (_Walpole to Mason_, 21 July, 1772).
Miscellaneous Antiquities; or, a Collection of Curious Papers: either
republished from _scarce Tracts_, or now first printed from _original_
MSS. Number II. To be continued occasionally. _Invenies illic et
festa domestica vobis. Sæpe tibi Pater est, sæpe legendus Avus._
Ovid. Fast. Lib. i. _Strawberry-Hill: Printed by Thomas Kirgate_,
M.DCC.LXXII.
Title and Text, pp. 1-62. 500 copies printed. 'In July [1772] wrote
the "Life of Sir Thomas Wyat [the Elder]," No. II. of my edition of
"Miscellaneous Antiquities"' (_Short Notes_).
Memoires du Comte de Grammont, par Monsieur le Comte Antoine Hamilton.
Nouvelle Edition, augmentée de Notes & d'Eclaircissemens, necessaires,
par M. Horace Walpole. _Des gens qui écrivent pour le Comte de
Grammont, peuvent compter sur quelque indulgence._ V. l'Epitre prelim.
p. xviii. _Imprimée à Strawberry-Hill, M.DCC.LXXII._
Title, Dedication, 'Avis de L'Editeur,' 'Avertissement,' 'Epitre à
Monsieur le Comte de Grammont,' 'Table des Chapitres,' 'Errata,' pp.
xxiv; Text, pp. 1-290: 'Table des personnes,' 3 pp. Portraits of
Hamilton, Mdlle. d'Hamilton, and Philibert Comte de Grammont. 4to.
100 copies printed; 30 went to Paris. It was dedicated to Madame du
Deffand, as follows: '_L'Editeur vous consacre cette Edition, comme un
monument de son Amitié, de son Admiration, & de son Respect; à Vous,
dont les Grâces, l'Esprit, & le Goût retracent au siecle présent le
siecle de Louis quatorze & les agremens de l'Auteur de ces Mémoires._'
'I want to send you these [the _Miscellaneous Antiquities_] ... and a
"Grammont," of which I have printed only a hundred copies, and which
will be extremely scarce, as twenty-five copies are gone to France'
(_Walpole to Cole_, 8 Jan., 1773).
1774.
A Description of the Villa of Horace Walpole. [Plate of Strawberry
Hill.] A Description of the Villa of Horace Walpole, youngest son
of Sir Robert Walpole Earl of Orford, at Strawberry-Hill, near
Twickenham. With an Inventory of the Furniture, Pictures, Curiosities,
&c. _Strawberry-Hill: Printed by Thomas Kirgate_, M.DCC.LXXIV.
Two titles; Text, pp. 1-119. 4to. 100 copies printed, 6 on large
paper. Many copies have the following: 'Appendix. Pictures and
Curiosities added since the Catalogue was printed,' pp. 121-145; 'List
of the Books printed at Strawberry-Hill,' unpaged; 'Additions since
the Appendix,' pp. 149-152; 'More Additions,' pp. 153-158. Baker
speaks of an earlier issue of 65 pp. which we have not met with.
Lowndes (_Appendix to Bibliographer's Manual_, 1864, p. 239) states
that it was said by Kirgate to have been used by the servants in
showing the house, and differed entirely from the editions of 1774 and
1784.
1775.
To Mrs. Crewe. [Verses by Charles James Fox.] N.D.
Pp. 2. Single leaf. 4to. 300 copies printed. Walpole speaks of these
in a letter to Mason dated 12 June, 1774; and he sends a copy of
them to him, 27 May, 1775. Mrs. Crewe, the Amoret addressed, was the
daughter of Fulke Greville, and the wife of J. Crewe. She was painted
by Reynolds as an Alpine shepherdess.
Dorinda, a Town Eclogue. [By the Hon. Richard Fitzpatrick, brother of
the Earl of Ossory.] [Plate of Strawberry Hill.] _Strawberry-Hill:
Printed by Thomas Kirgate. M.DCC.LXXV._
Title; Text, 3-8. 4to. 300 copies printed. 'I shall send you soon
Fitzpatrick's "Town Eclogue," from my own furnace. The verses are
charmingly smooth and easy....' 'P.S. Here is the Eclogue' (_Letter to
Mason_, 12 June, 1774).
1778.
The Sleep-Walker, a Comedy: in two Acts. Translated from the
French [of Antoine de Ferriol, Comte de Pont de Veyle], in March,
M.DCC.LXXVIII. [By Elizabeth Lady Craven, afterwards Margravine of
Anspach.] _Strawberry-Hill: Printed by T. Kirgate, M.DCC.LXXVIII._
Title, Quatrain, Prologue, Epilogue, Persons, pp. i-viii; Text, 1-56.
8vo. 75 copies printed. The quatrain is by Walpole to Lady Craven,
'on her Translation of the Somnambule.' 'I will send ... for yourself
a translation of a French play.... It is not for your reading, but
as one of the Strawberry editions, and one of the rarest; for I have
printed but seventy-five copies. It was to oblige Lady Craven, the
translatress ...' (_Walpole to Cole_, 22 Aug., 1778).
1779.
A Letter to the Editor of the Miscellanies of Thomas Chatterton.
_Strawberry-Hill: Printed by T. Kirgate_, M.DCC.LXXIX.
Half-title; Title; Text, pp. 1-55. The letter is dated at end: 'May
23, 1778.' 8vo. 200 copies printed. '1779. In the preceding autumn
had written a defence of myself against the unjust aspersions in the
Preface to the Miscellanies of Chatterton. Printed 200 copies at
Strawberry Hill this January, and gave them away. It was much enlarged
from what I had written in July' (_Short Notes_).
1780.
To the Lady Horatia Waldegrave, on the Death of the Duke of Ancaster.
[Verses by Mr. Charles Miller.] N. D.
Pp. 3, dated at end 'A.D. 1779.' 4to. 150 copies printed. 'I enclose
a copy of verses, which I have just printed at Strawberry, only a few
copies, and which I hope you will think pretty. They were written
three months ago by Mr. Charles Miller, brother of Sir John, on seeing
Lady Horatia at Nuneham. The poor girl is better' (_Walpole to Lady
Ossory_, 29 Jan., 1780). Lady Horatia Waldegrave was to have been
married to the Duke of Ancaster, who died in 1779.
1781.
The Muse recalled, an Ode, occasioned by the Nuptials of Lord Viscount
Althorp and Miss Lavinia Bingham, eldest daughter of Charles Lord
Lucan, March vi., M.DCC.LXXXI. By William Jones, Esq. [afterwards
Sir William Jones]. _Strawberry-Hill: Printed by Thomas Kirgate,
M.DCC.LXXXI._
Title; pp. 1-8. 4to. 250 copies printed. There is a well-known
portrait of Lavinia Bingham by Reynolds, in which she wears a straw
hat with a blue ribbon.
A Letter from the Honourable Thomas Walpole, to the Governor and
Committee of the Treasury of the Bank of England. _Strawberry-Hill:
Printed by Thomas Kirgate, M.DCC.LXXXI._
Title, and pp. 16 (last blank). 4to. 120 copies printed.
1784.
A Description of the Villa of Mr. Horace Walpole, youngest son of Sir
Robert Walpole Earl of Orford, at Strawberry-Hill near Twickenham,
Middlesex. With an Inventory of the Furniture, Pictures, Curiosities,
&c. _Strawberry-Hill: Printed by Thomas Kirgate, M.DCC.LXXXIV._
Title; 'Preface.' i-iv; Text, pp. 1-88. 'Errata, etc.,' 'Appendix,'
pp. 89-92; 'Curiosities added,' etc., 93-4; 'More Additions,' 95-6.
27 plates. 4to. 200 copies printed. 'The next time he [Sir Horace
Mann's nephew] visits you, I may be able to send you a description
of my _Galleria_,--I have long been preparing it, and it is almost
finished,--with some prints, which, however, I doubt, will convey no
very adequate idea of it' (_Walpole to Mann_, 30 Sept., 1784). 'In the
list for which Lord Ossory asks, is the Description of this place;
now, though printed, I have entirely kept it up [i. e., _held it
back_], and mean to do so while I live' (_Walpole to Lady Ossory_, 15
Sept., 1787).
1785.
Hieroglyphic Tales. _Schah Baham ne comprenoit jamais bien que les
choses absurdes & hors de toute vraisemblance._ Le Sopha, p. 5.
_Strawberry-Hill: Printed by T. Kirgate, M.DCC.LXXXV._
Title; 'Preface,' iii-ix; Text, pp. 50; 'Postscript.' 8vo. Walpole's
own MS. note in the Dyce example says, 'Only six copies of this were
printed, besides the revised copy.' '1772. This year, the last, and
sometime before, wrote some Hieroglyphic Tales. There are only five'
(_Short Notes_). 'I have some strange things in my drawer, even
wilder than the 'Castle of Otranto,' and called 'Hieroglyphic Tales;'
but they were not written lately, nor in the gout, nor, whatever
they may seem, written when I was out of my senses' (_Walpole to
Cole_, 28 Jan., 1779), 'This [he is speaking of Darwin's _Botanic
Garden_] is only the Second Part; for, like my King's eldest daughter
in the 'Hieroglyphic Tales,' the First Part is not born yet: no
matter' (_Walpole to the Miss Berrys_, 28 April, 1789). In 1822, the
_Hieroglyphic Tales_ were reprinted at Newcastle for Emerson Charnley.
Essay on Modern Gardening, by Mr. Horace Walpole. [Strawberry Hill
Bookplate.] Essai sur l'Art des Jardins Modernes, par M. Horace
Walpole, traduit en François by M. le Duc de Nivernois, en MDCCLXXXIV.
_Imprimé à Strawberry-Hill, par T. Kirgate_, MDCCLXXXV.
Two titles; English and French Text on opposite pages, 1-94. 4to.
400 copies printed. 'How may I send you a new book printed here?...
It is the translation of my 'Essay on Modern Gardens' by the Duc de
Nivernois.... You will find it a most beautiful piece of French, of
the genuine French spoken by the Duc de la Rochefoucault and Madame de
Sévigné, and not the metaphysical galimatias of La Harpe and Thomas,
&c., which Madame du Deffand protested she did not understand. The
versions of Milton and Pope are wonderfully exact and poetic and
elegant, and the fidelity of the whole translation, extraordinary'
(_Walpole to Lady Ossory_, 17 Sept., 1785). The original MS. of the
Duc de Nivernois--'a most exquisite specimen of penmanship'--was among
the papers at Strawberry.
1789.
Bishop Bonner's Ghost. [By Hannah More.] [Plate of Strawberry Hill.]
_Strawberry-Hill: Printed by Thomas Kirgate, MDCCLXXXIX._
Title and argument, 2 leaves; Text, pp. 1-4. 4to. 96 copies printed,
2 on brown paper, one of which was at Strawberry. It was written when
Hannah More ('my _imprimée_,' as Walpole calls her) was on a visit to
Dr. Beilby Porteus, Bishop of London, at his palace at Fulham, June,
1789. 'I will forgive all your enormities if you will let me print
your poem. I like to filch a little immortality out of others, and
the Strawberry press could never have a better opportunity' (_Walpole
to Hannah More_, 23 June, 1789). 'The enclosed copy of verses pleased
me so much, that, though not intended for publication, I prevailed
on the authoress, Miss Hannah More, to allow me to take off a small
number.' ... 'I have been disappointed of the completion of "Bonner's
Ghost," by my rolling press being out of order, and was forced to
send the whole impression to town to have the copper-plate taken
off.... Kirgate has brought the whole impression, and I shall have
the pleasure of sending your Ladyship this with a "Bonner's Ghost"
to-morrow morning' (_Walpole to Lady Ossory_, 16-18 July, 1789).
The History of Alcidalis and Zelida. A tale of the Fourteenth Century.
[By Vincent de Voiture.] _Printed at Strawberry-Hill. MDCCLXXXIX._
Title; Text, pp. 3-96. 8vo. This is a translation of Voiture's
unfinished _Histoire d'Alcidalis et de Zelide_. (See _Nouvelles
Oeuvres de Monsieur de Voiture. Nouvelle Edition. A Paris, Chez
Louis Bilaine, au Palais, au second Pilier de la grand' Salle, à
la Palme & au Grand Cesar_, MDCLXXII.) There is a copy in the Dyce
Collection. Another was sold in 1823 with the books of John Trotter
Brockett, in whose catalogue it was said to be 'surreptitiously
printed.' Kirgate had a copy, although Baker does not mention it.
Doubtful Date.
Verses sent to Lady Charles Spencer [Mary Beauclerc, daughter of
Lord Vere, and wife of Lord Charles Spencer] with a painted Taffety,
occasioned by saying she was low in Pocket and could not buy a new
Gown.
Single leaf. Baker says these were by Anna Chamber, Countess Temple.
Besides the above, Walpole printed at his press in 1770 vols. i. and
ii. of a 4to edition of his works.
INDEX
A.
_Ædes Walpolianæ_, the, 75-77, 288.
Amelia, the Princess, 171, 228, 234.
American Colonies, the war with the, 252, 291.
_An Account of the Giants_, 189.
_Anecdotes of Painting_, 142, 150, 241, 295.
Ashe, Miss, 127-130.
Ashton, Thomas, 16-19, 58, 59.
B.
Balmerino, Lord, trial and execution of, 93-97.
Beauclerk, Lady Diana, 159, 161, 193, 243, 260, 286.
_Beauties, The_, 104.
Beauty Room, the, 211.
Benedict XIV., Pope, 50.
Bentley, Richard, 136, 137, 146, 148, 161, 214, 224.
Berry, the Misses Mary and Agnes, 233, 235, 244, 259-263, 265, 285,
286, 291.
Bland, Henry, 12.
Bologna, visited by Walpole, 42, 43.
Bracegirdle, Anne, 83.
Burnet, Bishop Gilbert, 16, 175.
Burney, Frances, 193, 257.
Byng, Admiral, 142, 143.
C.
_Castle of Otranto, The_, 161, 163, 164, 168, 192, 195.
_Catalogue of Engravers_, 155.
_Catalogue of Royal and Noble Authors_, 142, 149-152.
_Catalogue of Strawberry Hill_, 262.
Charles X. (Comte d'Artois), 172.
Chartreuse, La Grande, visited by Walpole and Gray, 38.
Chartreux, Convent of the, described by Walpole, 34, 35.
Chatterton, Thomas, 196-200.
Chesterfield, Philip Dormer Stanhope, Earl of, 86, 131, 177;
his _Letters_ parodied by Walpole, 236.
Choiseul, Madame la Duchesse de, 174, 176, 177, 180, 212.
Christopher Inn, the, 17.
Chudleigh, Elizabeth, Duchess of Kingston, 230.
Churchill, Lady Mary (Maria), 49, 63, 67, 100.
Chute, John, 52, 68, 118, 134, 171, 208.
Clement XII., Pope, 45.
Clinton, Henry, Earl of Lincoln, 56.
Clive, Kitty, 83, 121, 133, 140, 143, 192;
_bon mot_ of, 181;
allusions to, 213, 217;
death of, 255.
Cocchi, Dr. Antonio, 56.
Coke, Lady Mary, 169.
Cole, William, 13, 19, 161, 206, 285.
Congreve, William, 83.
Conway, Henry, 12, 31, 35, 36, 38, 40, 82, 87, 91, 105, 108, 150,
182, 201.
Cope, Gen. Sir John, 89.
Crawford, James, 179.
Culloden Moor, the battle of, 91, 92.
Cumberland, William, Duke of, 19, 86, 91, 92, 99, 108, 120, 122,
171.
Cunningham, Peter, 10;
his account of a drive with Walpole, 227, 229, 231;
his specimens of Walpole's letters, 255;
quoted, 212, 231.
D.
Damer, Anna (Miss Conway), 203, 242, 270.
Deffand, Madame du (Marie de Vichy-Chamrond), 177, 212;
Walpole's first impression of, 177, 178;
her conquest of Walpole, 178;
Walpole's letter to Gray concerning, 178, 179;
her fondness for Walpole, 179, 180;
the episode of the snuff-box, 180;
Walpole's second visit to, 187, 188;
death of, 252;
Walpole's letters to, 248, 249;
Walpole's adieu to, 251;
will of, 252.
_Delenda est Oxonia_, 124.
Dodington, Bubb, 92, 120.
Dryden, John, imitated by Walpole, 60;
claimed as great-uncle by Catherine Shorter, 210.
E.
Easton Neston (Northamptonshire), 23.
_Epitaphium Vivi Auctoris_, 264.
Eton College, 11-17.
F.
Falkirk, the battle of, 91.
Fielding, Henry, 79, 83, 160, 161, 230, 285.
Fielding, William, 160.
Florence, visited by Walpole and Gray, 43-45.
Fontenoy, the battle of, 87, 88, 104.
Foote, Samuel, 173.
Forcalquier, Madame de, 174.
Fortescue, Lucy, 105.
Fox, Charles James, his verses on Mrs. Crewe, 240.
Francklin, Richard, 111, 123.
Fraser, Simon, Lord Lovat, 97.
Frederick, Prince of Wales. (_See_ Wales.)
Freethinking in France, 167, 170.
French court, presentation of Walpole at the, 171, 172.
G.
Garrick, David, 83, 140, 146, 186.
Genlis, Stéphanie Félicité, Madame de, 173, 257.
Geoffrin, Madame, 175, 182.
George I., Walpole's visit to, 8-10;
the story of the raven, 286.
(_See_ Reminiscences.)
George II., 63. (_See_ Reminiscences.)
George III. (_See_ Memoirs.)
Goldsmith, Oliver, 19, 32, 105, 143, 198, 242;
Walpole's contempt for, 238, 285.
Gordon Riots, the, 253.
Granby, Lord, 129, 131.
Gray, Thomas, at Eton, 16, 19, 22, 25;
travels with Walpole, 29-32;
Versailles described by, 32, 33;
at Rheims, 35;
at Lyons, 38;
at La Grande Chartreuse, 38;
in Italy, 40-44, 49, 50, 53, 57;
his misunderstanding with Walpole, 52-55;
subsequent reconciliation, 55, 135;
praises Walpole's verse, 59;
quoted, 25, 30-34, 37, 38, 51, 59, 83, 97, 105, 115, 134, 135, 137,
148, 149, 219;
resumes his intimacy with Walpole, 103, 106, 173;
visits Strawberry Hill, 135;
his indebtedness to Walpole, 135;
his Elegy published by Dodsley, 135;
the _Poemata-Grayo-Bentleiana_, 137;
publication of the _Odes_ at Strawberry Hill, 142-148;
detects the Rowley forgeries, 197;
portrait of, 213;
Walpole's relations with, 285.
Grenville, George, 290.
H.
Harrison, Audrey, Lady Townshend, 101, 156.
Hawkins, Miss, 160, 244;
her description of Walpole, 277-279.
Hénault, Charles-Jean-François, President, 177, 183, 188, 195, 212.
Hervey, Baron, 123;
said to be Walpole's father, 4.
Hervey, Lady, 120, 171, 175, 201, 224.
Hill, Robert, the learned tailor, 150.
_Historic Doubts on Richard III._, 190, 191, 237.
Hogarth, William, 69, 79, 161, 213, 222, 242.
Houghton, the seat of the Walpoles, 1, 24, 65, 66, 69, 71, 80, 81;
the Houghton pictures sold to Catherine of Russia, 69, 246, 247;
Walpole buried at, 268.
Hume, David, 167, 171, 181-185.
Hyde Park, robbers in, 125, 126.
I.
Inn, the Christopher, 16, 17.
_Inscription for the Neglected Column_, 61.
J.
Jennings, Frances, Duchess of Tyrconnell, anecdote of, 7;
head of, 222.
Jenyns, Soame, quoted, 127, 131.
Jephson, Capt. Robert, 237, 239.
Johnson, Samuel, 55, 84, 236, 285.
K.
Kendal, the Duchess of, 8, 228, 287.
Ker, Lord Robert, 91.
Kilmarnock, Earl, 92;
trial and execution of, 93-98.
King's College, Cambridge, 18-20, 28.
Kirgate, Thomas, 150, 195, 235.
L.
Lens, Bernard, 19.
_Lessons for the Day_, 75.
_Letter from Xo Ho_, 143, 144, 295.
Louis XVI. (Duc de Berry), 172.
Louis XVIII. (Comte de Provence), 172.
M.
Macaulay, Lord, 229;
reviews Lord Dover's edition of Walpole's letters to Mann, 271-273;
letters to Hannah Macaulay quoted, 271, 272;
Lady Holland irritated by, 272;
his opinion of Walpole, 273-275.
McLean, James, robs Walpole, 125, 126;
is imprisoned, 126;
becomes a fashionable lion, 126;
is executed, 126.
Mann, Sir Horace, 43, 44, 47, 61, 69, 201, 254;
death of, 255;
Walpole's affection for, 286.
Mason, Rev. William, 53, 197, 202.
_Memoirs of the Reign of King George III._, 189, 292.
Middleton, Dr. Conyers, 286;
praises Walpole's attainments, 57, 58.
Montagu, Lieut.-Gen. Charles, K. C. B., 14.
Montagu, Brig-Gen. Edward, 14.
Montagu, George, M. P., 14, 17, 21, 29, 187, 201, 286.
Montagu, Lady Mary Wortley, 4, 48, 133;
described by Walpole, 49-51;
quoted, 50, 102.
Mont Cenis, 40.
Moore, Edward, 131.
More, Hannah, 258, 264, 285.
Müntz (German artist), 138, 142, 146, 210, 279.
_Mysterious Mother, The_, 190-193;
Byron's praise of, 193;
printed at the Strawberry Hill Press, 195;
illustrated by Lady Di. Beauclerk, 243.
N.
_Nature will Prevail_, 239.
Neale, Betty, 130.
Neuhoff, Baron ('Theodore, King of Corsica'), 132, 142.
Nolkejumskoi. (_See_ Cumberland, William, Duke of.)
O.
Officina Arbuteana. (_See_ Strawberry Hill.)
Orford, George, third Earl of (nephew of Horace Walpole), 69, 141,
202, 245, 247, 263.
Orford, Horace, fourth Earl of. (_See_ Walpole, Horace.)
Orford, Robert, first Earl of. (_See_ Walpole, Sir Robert.)
Orford, Robert, second Earl of. (_See_ Walpole, Robert.)
Ossory, Lady, 202;
letters of Walpole to, 207, 233, 246, 247, 252, 260, 266.
P.
Paris, Walpole's first visit to, 31, 32;
state of society in, 166-168;
second visit to, 169, 173-181;
third visit to, 186, 187, 189;
fourth visit to, 249.
_Parish Register of Twickenham, The_, 158, 160, 161, 245.
Parodies by Walpole, 77, 236.
Patapan, 66.
Petersham, Lady Caroline, 127-130, 285.
Picture Gallery at Houghton, 69, 71, 246, 247.
Pinkerton, John, his _Walpoliana_ quoted, 3, 10, 84, 220, 258, 279,
280, 281;
a favourite of Walpole, 256;
his description of Walpole, 279-282.
Pomfret, Lady, 47-50, 101.
Pope, Alexander, 103, 109, 139, 216.
Preston Pans, the battle of, 89.
Prévost d'Exiles, M. l'Abbé Antoine-François, 31.
Prior, Matthew, criticised by Walpole, 76, 77.
Pulteney, William, Earl of Bath, 62, 64, 151, 228.
Q.
Quadruple Alliance, the, 14;
ended, 18, 19.
Queensberry, the Duke of, 231.
Quinault, Jeanne-Françoise, 32.
R.
Radnor, Lord, his Chinese summer-house, 119.
Ranelagh Gardens, the, 85, 86.
_Reminiscences of the Courts of George the I. and II._, written for
the Misses Berry, 262.
Reynolds, Sir Joshua, 241.
Richardson, Samuel, 167, 171.
Robinson, William, 146, 147, 150, 156.
Rochford, Lady, 156, 157.
Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, 181, 182;
sham letter from Frederick the Great to, 182, 183;
anger of, 184;
his quarrel with Hume, 184.
S.
Saint-Cyr, Walpole's visit to, 188.
Saunderson, Professor Nicholas, 20.
Scott, Samuel, 139.
Scott, Sir Walter, his study of the _Castle of Otranto_, 164, 165.
Selwyn, George Augustus, 13, 138, 168, 231.
_Sermon on Painting, The_, 71-76.
Shenstone, William, 149.
Shirley, Lady Fanny, 160.
Shirley, the Hon. Sewallis, 102, 103, 202.
Shorter, Catherine (Lady Walpole), 3, 4, 210;
death of, 24;
burial of, 25;
Dryden claimed as great-uncle to, 210.
Shorter, Sir John, Lord Mayor of London, 3.
_Short Notes_, Walpole's, quoted, 5, 11, 17, 35, 56, 80, 124, 152,
189, 239.
Skerret, Maria, 4, 49, 63, 210.
Smollett, Tobias, 101, 105.
Spence, Professor Joseph, 50, 55, 56, 150.
Sterne, Laurence, 173.
Strawberry Hill (Twickenham), Walpole removes to, 86;
description of, 107-124, 146, 147, 208;
previous tenants of, 109, 110;
additions to, 111, 204, 205;
the Gothic castle at, 113-119;
views executed by Müntz, 138;
private printing-press at, 142, 145, 146;
described by William Robinson, 146-148;
works published at the Officina Arbuteana, 149-151 (_see_
Appendix), 152;
_Description of the Villa at_, 195, 201, 208;
fêtes at, 205, 206;
ground plan of the villa at, 208;
China Closet and China Room at, 210;
the Yellow Bedchamber (Beauty Room), 211;
Breakfast Room, 212, 213;
plan of principal floor, 212;
Green Closet, 213;
Library, 214;
Blue Bedchamber, 214;
Armoury, 214;
the Red Bedchamber, 216;
the Holbein Chamber, 216;
the Star Chamber, 217;
the Gallery, 204, 218;
the Round Tower, 220;
the Cabinet (Tribune), 220;
collection of rarities, 220, 221;
the Great North Bedchamber, 218, 221;
the Great Cloister, 223;
the Chapel, 223;
the Flower Garden, 112, 224;
Gothicism of the villa, 225, 226;
bequeathed to Mrs. Damer, 270;
subsequent disposal of, 270.
Stuart, Prince Charles Edward (the Chevalier), his descent on
Scotland, 88, 96;
temporary success of, 90, 91, 96;
escape of, 91.
Stuart, Lady Louisa, her _Introductory Anecdotes_ quoted, 14-16, 22,
23.
Suffolk, the Countess of (Mrs. Howard), 9, 122, 139, 157, 201.
Swift, Jonathan, 19, 103, 139.
T.
Townshend, Charles, Viscount, 6, 156.
Townshend, Lady. (_See_ Harrison, Audrey.)
Tragedy in England, Walpole's opinion of, 194, 195.
Triumvirate, the, 14.
Twickenham. (See Strawberry Hill.)
V.
Vane, Henry, Earl of Darlington, 128.
Vauxhall, 84, 128-131.
Versailles, visited by Walpole, 32, 171-173.
_Verses on the Suppression of the Late Rebellion_, 98-100.
Vertue, George, the engraver, 69, 70, 77, 154, 216.
Voltaire, François-Marie-Arouet de, 178, 190.
W.
Wales, Frederick, Prince of, 24, 61, 86, 87;
composes a _chanson_ on the battle of Fontenoy, 87;
wins £800 from Lord Granby, 131.
Walpol, Sir Henry de, 1.
Walpole, Dorothy, Lady Townshend, 6, 210.
Walpole, Sir Edward, Knight of the Bath, 2.
----, Sir Edward (brother of Horace), 100, 202, 203;
the daughters of, 203;
death of, 256.
----, George (third Earl of Orford), 141, 202, 245.
----, Horace (Horatio), his ancestry, 1-4;
scandal regarding his birth, 3, 4;
early childhood, 5-10;
his visit to George I., 9;
his appearance as a boy, 11;
his school-days at Eton, 11-17;
his scholarship, 12, 19, 20;
his companions at Eton, 13-16;
enters Lincoln's Inn, 16;
enters King's College, Cambridge, 18;
his university studies, 19, 20;
the 'triumvirate,' 19;
the 'quadruple alliance,' 18, 19;
literary productions at Cambridge, 24;
appointed Inspector of Imports and Exports, 27;
becomes Usher of the Exchequer, Controller of the Pipe, and Clerk
of the Estreats, 27, 28;
leaves college, 28;
travels with Gray, 29;
visits France, 30-39;
in Switzerland, 39;
crosses the Alps, 40;
in Italy, 41-56;
his description of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, 49;
his misunderstanding with Gray, 52-55;
his illness in Florence, 55;
his return to England, 56;
becomes Member of Parliament for Callington, 56;
poetical _Epistle to Thomas Ashton_, 58, 59;
praised by Gray, 59;
his letters to Mann, 61, 65, 88;
his first speech in Parliament, 64;
his _Sermon on Painting_, 71-75;
the _Ædes Walpolianæ_, 75-77;
his parodies, 78, 236;
his paper against Lord Bath, 78;
his father's death, 79, 80;
receives legacy from his father, 80, 81;
his criticism of Mrs. Woffington and of Garrick, 83;
removes to Twickenham, 86;
his _Verses on the Suppression of the Late Rebellion_, 98, 99;
epilogue to _Tamerlane_, 98;
marriage of his sisters, 100;
his criticism of Lady Orford, 101, 102;
his contributions to _The Museum_, 103;
his poem, _The Beauties_, 104, 105;
resides at Windsor, 106;
his description of Strawberry Hill, 107-120, 147, 195, 205, 206,
227 (_see_ Strawberry Hill);
his papers in _The Remembrancer_, 124;
his tract, _Delenda est Oxonia_, 124;
is robbed in Hyde Park, 125, 126;
his account of Vauxhall, 128-131;
his papers in _The World_, 131;
his reconciliation with Gray, 134;
his admiration of Gray's poetry, 135-137;
is chosen Member of Parliament for Castle Rising, 141;
for Lynn, 142;
his _Castle of Otranto_, 142, 163, 168, 169;
publishes Gray's _Odes_, 142, 148;
his _Catalogue of Royal and Noble Authors_, 142, 149, 151;
his first _Memoirs_, 142;
his _Letter from Xo Ho_, 143, 145, 295;
his other _Catalogues_, 145, 149, 151;
establishes the Officina Arbuteana, 145;
his publications, 149-151 (_see_ Appendix), 153, 154, 165;
his _Catalogue of Engravers_, 155;
his _Anecdotes of Painting_, 152, 156, 241, 243;
his occasional pieces (_The Magpie and her Brood_, _Dialogue between
two Great Ladies_, _The Garland_, _The Parish Register_), 157,
158, 245;
his second visit to Paris, 167-181;
is presented to the royal family, 171-173;
sham letter to Rousseau, 182;
visits Bath, 186;
his third visit to Paris, 187;
his _Account of the Giants_, 189;
begins his _Memoirs of the Reign of George III._, 189;
retires from Parliament, 189;
his letters to the _Public Advertiser_, 190;
his _Historic Doubts on Richard III._, 190, 191;
his tragedy, _The Mysterious Mother_, 191, 192, 195;
his relations with Chatterton, 196-200;
his fondness for his nieces, 203;
his correspondence, 235;
his minor writings, 236-239;
his _Nature will Prevail_, 239;
his fourth visit to Paris, 249;
his correspondence in French, 248;
his farewell to Madame du Deffand, 251, 252;
his acquaintance with Hannah More, 258;
his friendship with the Misses Berry, 259-263, 265, 286, 291;
his _Reminiscences_, 262;
his _Catalogue of Strawberry Hill_, 262;
succeeds his nephew as Earl of Orford, 263;
his _Epitaphium Vivi Auctoris_, 264;
his last letter to Lady Ossory, 267, 268;
his death and burial, 268;
disposal of his estate, 269, 270;
Lord Macaulay's criticism of, 271-276;
portraits and descriptions of, 276-278;
Pinkerton's reminiscences of, 280-282;
his character as a man, 284-287;
as a virtuoso, 288, 289;
as a politician, 290-292;
as an author, 293, 294.
---- of Walterton, Horatio, Baron, 6, 219.
----, Maria (Lady Waldegrave), 203, 205.
----, Lady Mary (Countess of Cholmondeley), 67, 100.
----, Reginald de, 1.
----, Sir Robert (first Earl of Orford), ancestry of, 1, 2;
first marriage of, 3;
second marriage of, 49;
decline of his political power, 61, 62;
resigns the premiership, 63;
is created Earl of Orford, 63;
intrigues against Pulteney, 64;
prevents his own disgrace, 64, 65;
death of, 78-80;
will of, 81.
----, Robert (second Earl of Orford), 85, 102, 129.
----, Lady Robert (Countess of Orford), 48, 101, 102, 202;
death of, 256.
----, Col. Robert, M. P., 2.
----, William, 3.
Walpoles of Houghton, pedigree of the, 1;
spelled Walpol, 1.
_Walpoliana_, Pinkerton's, 3, 10, 84, 256, 258, 279-282.
Walsingham, Melusina de Schulemberg, Countess of, 9.
Wesley, John, Walpole's description of, 186.
West, Richard, 15, 16, 103.
Whitehead, Paul, 139.
Wilkes, John, 173.
Williams, George James, 138, 168, 203.
Williams, Sir Charles Hanbury, 13, 131.
William Henry, Duke of Gloucester, marries Maria Walpole, 203.
Woffington, Margaret, 83.
X.
_Xo Ho, Letter of_, 143, 144.
Y.
Yarmouth, the Countess of (Madame de Walmoden), 9.
Z.
Zouch, Rev. Henry, 196;
Walpole's letters to, quoted, 152-155, 285.
Transcriber’s Notes:
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
Minor punctuation and printer errors repaired.
Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as
possible, including obsolete and variant spellings, inconsistent
punctuation, and other inconsistencies.
Obvious printer’s errors corrected.
*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Horace Walpole - A memoir" ***
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