The Letters of Horace Walpole, Earl of Orford Volume II Part 56

(803) General Conway.

(804) A translation of the Memoirs of the Marquis de Torcy, secretary of state to Louis XIV., had just been published in London. E.

(805) For a review of these volumes by Oliver Goldsmith, see the enlarged edition of his Miscellaneous Works, vol. iii. p. 445.- E.

385 Letter 227 To John Chute, Esq.

Strawberry Hill, July 12, 1757.

It would be very easy to persuade me to a Vine-voyage,(806) without your being so indebted to me, if it were possible. I shall represent my impediments, and then you shall judge. I say nothing of the heat of this magnificent weather, with the gla.s.s yesterday up to three-quarters of sultry. In all English probability this will not be a hindrance long; though at present, so far from travelling, I have made the tour of my own garden but once these three days before eight at night, and then I thought I should have died of it. For how many years we shall have to talk of the summer of fifty-seven!--But hear: my Lady Ailesbury and Miss Rich come hither on Thursday for two or three days; and on Monday next the Officina Arbuteana opens in form. The Stationers' Company, that is, Mr.

Dodsley, Mr. Tonson, etc., are summoned to meet here on Sunday night. And with what do you think we open? Cedite, Romani Impressores--with nothing under Graii Carmina. I found him in town last week: he had brought his two Odes to be printed. I s.n.a.t.c.hed them out of Dodsley's hands, and they are to be the first fruits of my press. An edition of Hentznerus, with a version by Mr. Bentley and a little preface of mine, were prepared, but are to wait. Now, my dear sir, can I stir?

"Not ev'n thy virtues, tyrant, shall avail!"

Is not it the plainest thing in the world that I cannot go to you yet, but that you must come to me?

I tell you no news, for I know none, think of none. Elzevir, Aldous, and Stephens are the freshest personages in my memory.

Unless i was appointed printer of the Gazette, I think nothing could at present make me read an article in it. Seriously you must come to us, and shall be witness that the first holidays we have I will return with you. Adieu!

(806) To visiting Mr. Chute at the Vine, his seat in Hampshire.

386 Letter 228 To George Montagu, Esq.

Strawberry Hill, July 16, 1757.

You do me justice in believing that I enjoy your satisfaction; I do heartily, and particularly on this point: you know how often I have wished this reconciliation: indeed you have taken the handsomest manner of doing it, and it has been accepted handsomely. I always had a good opinion of your cousin, and I am not apt to throw about my esteem lightly. He has ever behaved with sense and dignity, and this country has more obligations to him than to most men living.

the weather has been so hot, and we are so unused to it, that n.o.body knew how to behave themselves; even Mr. Bentley has done shivering.

Elzevirianum opens to-day; you shall taste its first fruits. I find people have a notion that it is very mysterious; they don't know how I should abhor to profane Strawberry Hill with politics. Adieu!

386 Letter 229 To George Montagu, Esq.

Strawberry Hill, Thursday, 17.

I only write you a line to tell you, that as you mention Miss Montagu's being well and alone, if she could like to accompany the Colonel(807) and you to Strawberry Hill and the Vine, the seneschals of those castles will be very proud to see her. I am sorry to be forced to say any thing civil in a letter to you; you deserve nothing but ill-usage for disappointing us so often, but we stay till we have got you into our power, and then--why then, I am afraid we shall still be what I have been so long.

(807) mr. Montagu's brother.

387 Letter 230 To Sir Horace Mann.

Strawberry Hill, July 25, 1757.

The Empress-Queen has not yet hurt my particular. I have received two letters from you within this week, dated July 2d and 9th. Yet she has given up Ostend and Nieuport, and, I think, Furnes and Ypr'es, to the French. We are in a piteous way! The French have pa.s.sed the Weser, and a courier yesterday brought word that the Duke was marching towards them, and within five miles: by this time his fate is decided. The world here is very inquisitive about a secret expedition(808) which we are fitting out: a letter is not a proper place to talk about it; I can only tell you, that be it whither it will, I do not augur well about it, and what makes me dislike it infinitely more, Mr. Conway is of it. I am more easy about your situation than I was, though I do not like the rejoicings ordered at Leghorn for the victory over the Prussians.

I have so little to say to-day that I should not have writ, but for one particular reason. The Mediterranean trade being arrived, I concluded the vases for Mr. Fox were on board it, but we cannot discover them. Unluckily it happens that the bill of lading is lost, and I have forgot in what ship they were embarked. In short, my dear Sir, I think that, as I always used to do, I gave the bill to your dearest brother, by which means it is lost. I imagine you have a duplicate. send it as soon as you can.

I thank you for what you have given to Mr. Phelps. I don't call this billet part of the acknowledgment. All the world is dispersed: the ministers are at their several villas: one day in a week serves to take care of a nation, let it be in as bad a plight as it will! We have a sort of Jewish superst.i.tion, and would not come to town on a Sat.u.r.day or Sunday though it were to defend the Holy of Holies. Adieu!

(808) the expedition to Rochfort.

387 Letter 231 To John Chute, Esq.

Strawberry Hill, July 26, 1757.

I love to communicate my satisfactions to you. You will imagine that I have got an original portrait of John Guttemburg, the first inventor of printing, or that I have met with a little boke called Eneyr dos, which I am going to translate and print. No, no; far beyond any such thing! Old Lady Sandwich(809) is dead at Paris, and my lord has given me her picture of Ninon l'Enclos; given it me in the prettiest manner in the world. I beg if he should ever meddle in any election in Hampshire, that you will serve him to the last drop of your shrievalty. If you reckon by the thermometer of my natural impatience, the picture would be here already, but I fear I must wait some time for it.

The press goes on as fast as if I printed myself. I hope in a very few days to send you a specimen, though I could wish you was at the birth of the first produce. Gray has been gone these five days. Mr. Bentley has been ill, and is not recovered of the sweating-sickness, which I now firmly believe was only a hot summer and England, being so unused to it, took it for a malady. mr. Muntz is not gone; but pray don't think that I keep him: he has absolutely done nothing this whole summer but paste two chimney-boards. In short, instead of Claude Lorrain, he is only one of Bromwich's men.

You never saw any thing so droll as Mrs. Clive's countenance, between the heat of the summer, the pride in her legacy,(810) and the efforts to appear concerned.

We have given ourselves for a day or two the air of an earthquake, but it proved an explosion of the powder-mills at Epsom. I asked Louis if it had done any mischief: he said, "Only blown a man's head off;" as if that was a part one could spare!

P. S. I hope Dr. Warburton will not think I encroach either upon his commentatorship or private pretension, if I a.s.sume these lines of Pope, thus altered, for myself:

"Some have for wits, and then for poets pa.s.s'd turn'd printers next, and proved plain fools at last."

(809) Daughter of the famous Wilmot Earl of Rochester.

(810) A legacy of fifty pounds, left her by John Robarts, the last Earl of Radnor of that family.

388 Letter 232 To Sir Horace Mann.

Strawberry Hill, August 4, 1757.

Mr. Phelps (who is Mr. Phelps?) has brought me the packet safe, for which I thank you. I would fain have persuaded him to stay and dine, that I might ask him more questions about you. He told me how low your immaterial spirits are: I fear the news that came last night will not exalt them. The French attacked the Duke for three days together, and at last defeated him. I find it is called at Kensington an encounter(811) of fourteen squadrons; but any defeat must be fatal to Hanover. I know few particulars, and those only by a messenger despatched to me by Mr. Conway on the first tidings: the Duke exposed himself extremely, but is unhurt, as they say, all his small family are. In what a situation is our Prussian hero, surrounded by Austrians, French, and Muscovites-even impertinent Sweden is stealing in to pull a feather out of his tail! What devout plunderers will every little Catholic prince of the empire become! The only good I hope to extract out of this mischief is, that it will stifle our secret expedition, and preserve Mr. Conway from going on it. I have so ill an opinion of our secret expeditions, that I hope they will for ever remain so. What a melancholy picture is there of an old monarch at Kensington, who has lived to see such inglorious and fatal days! Admiral Boscawen is disgraced. I know not the cause exactly, as ten miles out of town are a thousand out of politics. He is said to have refused to serve under Sir Edward Hawke in this armament. Shall I tell you what, more than distance, has thrown me Out of attention to news? A little packet which I shall give your brother for you, will explain it. In short, I am turned printer, and have converted a little cottage here into a printing-office. My abbey is a perfect colicue or academy. I keep a painter in the house and a printer--not to mention Mr.

Bentley, who is an academy himself. 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; the second particularly, by the confinement of the measure and the nature of prophetic vision, is mysterious.(812) I could not persuade him to add more notes; he says whatever wants to be explained, don't deserve to be. I shall venture to place some in Dr. Cocchi's copy, who need not be supposed to understand Greek- and English together, though he is so much master of both separately. To divert you in the mean time, I send you the following copy of a letter written by my printer(813) to a friend in Ireland. I should tell you that he has the most sensible look in the world; Garrick said he would give any money for four actors with such eyes--they are more Richard the Third's than Garrick's own; but whatever his eyes are, is head is Irish. Looking for something I wanted in a drawer, I perceived a parcel of strange romantic words in a large hand beginning a letter; he saw me see it, yet left it, which convinces me it was left on purpose: it is the grossest flattery to me, couched in most ridiculous sc.r.a.ps of poetry, which he has retained from things he has printed; but it will best describe itself:--

"SIR, "I DATE this from shady bowers, nodding groves, and amaranthine shades,--close by old Father Thames's silver side- -fair Twickenham's luxurious shades--Richmond's near neighbour, where great George the King resides. You will wonder at my prolixity--in my last I informed you that I was going into the country to transact business for a private gentleman. This gentleman is 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 continue so to do.

Nothing can be more warm than the weather has been here this time past; they have in London, by the help of gla.s.ses, roasted in the artillery-ground fowls and quarters of lamb.

The coolest days that I have felt since May last are equal to, nay, far exceed the warmest I ever felt in Ireland. The place I am in now 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 He is a bachelor, and spends his time in the studious rural taste--not like his father, lost in the weather-beaten vessel of state-- many people censured, but his conduct was far better than our late pilots at the helm, and more to the interest of England- -they follow his advice now, and court the a.s.sistance of Spain, instead of provoking a war, for that was ever against England's interest."

I laughed for an hour at this picture of myself, which is much more like to the studious magician in the enchanted opera of Rinaldo; not but Twickenham has a romantic genteelness that would figure in a more luxurious climate. It was but yesterday that we had a new kind of auction-it was of the orange-trees and plants of your old acquaintance, Admiral Martin. It was one of the warm days of this jubilee summer, which appears only once in fifty years--the plants were disposed in little clumps about the lawn: the company walked to bid from one to the other, and the auctioneer knocked down the lots on the orange tubs. Within three doors was an auction of china. You did not imagine that we were such a metropolis! Adieu!

(811) The battle at Hastenbeck.

(812) Gray, in a letter to Dr. Wharton, of the 17th of August, says, "I hear we are not at all popular: the great objection is obscurity: n.o.body knows what we would be at: one man, a peer, I have been told of, that think's -the last stanza of The second Ode relates to Charles the First and Oliver Cromwell; in short, the zuveroi appear to be still fewer than even, I expected." Works, vol. iii. p. 165-E.

(813) William Robinson, first printer to the press at Strawberry Hill.