Letter 23 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.
Arlington Street, May 29, 1771. (page 46)

Dear Sir, I have but time to write you a line, that I may not detain Mr. Essex, who is so good as to take charge of this note, and of a box, which I am sure will give you pleasure, and I beg may give you a little trouble. It contains the very valuable seven letters of Edward the sixth to Barnaby Fitzpatrick. Lord Ossory, to whom they belong, has lent them to me to print, but to facilitate that, and to prevent their being rubbed or hurt by the printer, I must entreat your exactness to copy them, and return them with the copies. I need not desire your particular care; for you value these things as much as I do, and will be able to make them out better than I can do, from being so much versed in old writing. Forgive my taking this liberty with you, which, I flatter myself, will not be disagreeable. Mr. Essex and Mr. Tyson dined with me at Strawberry Hill; but could not stay so long as I wished. The party would have been still more agreeable if you had made a fourth. Adieu! dear Sir, yours ever.

Letter 24 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.
Arlington Street, June 11, 1771. (page 47)

You are very kind, dear Sir, and I ought to be, nay, what is more, I am ashamed of giving you so much trouble; but I am in no hurry for the letters. I shall not set out till the 7th of next month, And it will be sufficient if I receive them a week before I set out. Mr. C. C. C. C. is very welcome to attack me about a Duchess of Norfolk. He is even welcome to be in the right; to the edification I hope of all the matrons at the Antiquarian Society, who I trust will insert his criticism in the next volume of their Archaeologia, or Old Women's Logic; but, indeed, I cannot bestow my time on any more of them, nor employ myself in detecting witches for vomiting pins. When they turn extortioners like Mr. Masters,(34) the law should punish them, not only for roguery, but for exceeding their province, which our ancestors limited to killing their neighbour's cow, or crucifying dolls of wax. For my own part, I am so far from being out of charity with him, that I would give him a nag or new broom whenever he has a mind to ride to the Antiquarian sabbat, and preach against me. Though you have more cause to be angry, laugh -,it him as I do. One has not life enough to throw away on all the fools and knaves that come across one. I have often been attacked, and never replied but to Mr. Hume and Dr. Milles—to the first, because he had a name; to the second, because he had a mind to have one:—and yet I was in the wrong, for it was the only way he could attain one. In truth, it is being too self-interested, to expose only one's private antagonists, when one lets worse men pass unmolested. Does a booby hurt me by an attack on me, more than by any other foolish thing he does? Does not he tease me more by any thing he says to me, without attacking me, than by any thing he says against me behind my back? I shall, therefore, most certainly never inquire after or read Mr. C. C. C. C.'s criticism, but leave him to oblivion with her Grace of Norfolk, and our wise society. As I doubt my own writings will soon be forgotten, I need not fear that those of my answerers will be remembered.

(34) There is a note on this letter in Cole's handwriting. Mr. Mason had informed him, that Mr. Masters had lately read a paper at the Antiquarian Society against some mistake of Mr. Walpole's respective a Duchess of Norfolk; and he adds, "This I informed Mr. Walpole of in my letter, and said something to him of Masters' extortion in making me pay forty pounds towards the repairing his vicarage-house at Waterbeche, which he pretended he had fitted up for my reception."

Letter 25 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.(35)
Strawberry Hill, June 17, 1771. (page 48)

I was very sure you would grant my request, if you could, and I am perfectly satisfied with your reasons; but I do not believe the parties concerned will be so too, especially the heads of the family, who are not so ready to serve their relations at their own expense as gratis. When I see you I will tell you more, and what I thought I had told you.

You tax me with four days in Bedfordshire; I was but three at most, and of those the evening I went, and the morning I came away, made the third day. I will try to see you before I go. The Edgcumbes I should like and Lady Lyttelton, but Garrick does not tempt me at all. I have no taste for his perpetual buffoonery, and am sick of his endless expectation of flattery; but you who charge me with making a long visit to Lord and Lady Ossory,—you do not see the mote in your own eye; at least I am sure Lady Ailesbury does not see that in hers. I could not obtain a single day from her all last year, and with difficulty got her to give me a few hours this. There is always an indispensable pheasantry that must be visited, or some thing from which she cannot spare four-and-twenty hours. Strawberry sets this down in its pocket-book. and resents the neglect.

At two miles from Houghton Park is the mausoleum of the Bruces, where I saw the most ridiculous monument of one of Lady Ailesbury's predecessors that ever was imagined; I beg she will never keep such company. In the midst of an octagon chapel is the tomb of Diana, Countess of Oxford and Elgin. From a huge unwieldy base of white marble rises a black marble cistern; literally a cistern that would serve for an eating-room. In the midst of this, to the knees, stands her ladyship in a white domino or shroud, with her left hand erect as giving her blessing. It put me in mind of Mrs. Cavendish when she got drunk in the bathing-tub. At another church is a kind of catacomb for the Earls of Kent: there are ten sumptuous monuments. Wrest and Hawnes are both ugly places; the house at the former is ridiculously old and bad. The state bedchamber (not ten feet high) and its drawing-room, are laced with Ionic columns of spotted velvet, and friezes of patchwork. There are bushels of deplorable earls and countesses. The garden was execrable too, but is something mended by Brown. Houghton Park and Ampthill stand finely: the last is a very good house, and has a beautiful park. The other has three beautiful old fronts, in the style of Holland House, with turrets and loggias, but not so large within. It is the worst contrived dwelling I ever saw. Upon the whole, I was much diverted with my journey. On my return I stayed but a single hour in London, saw no soul, and came hither to meet the deluge. It has rained all night, and all day; but it is midsummer, consequently midwinter, and one can expect no better. Adieu!

(35) Now first printed.

Letter 26 To The Earl Of Strafford.
Strawberry Hill, June 20, 1771. (page 49)

I have waited impatiently, my dear lord, for something worth putting into a letter but trees do not speak in parliament, nor flowers write in the newspapers; and they are almost the only beings I have seen. I dined on Tuesday at Notting-hill(36) with the Countesses of Powis and Holderness, Lord and Lady Pelham, and Lord Frederick Cavendish—and Pam; and shall go to town on Friday to meet the same company at Lady Holderness's; and this short journal comprises almost my whole history and knowledge.

I must now ask your lordship's and Lady Strafford's commands for Paris. I shall set out on the 7th of next month. You will think, though you will not tell me so, that these are Very juvenile jaunts at my age. Indeed, I should be ashamed if I went for any other pleasure but that of once more seeing my dear blind friend, whose much greater age forbids my depending on seeing more often.(37) It will, indeed, be amusing to change the scene of politics for though I have done with our own, one cannot help hearing them—nay, reading them; for, like flies, they come to breakfast with one's bread and butter. I wish there was any other vehicle for them but a newspaper; a place into which, considering how they are exhausted, I am sure they have no pretensions. The Duc d'Aiguillon, I hear, is minister. Their politics, some way or other, must end seriously, either in despotism, a civil war, or assassination. Methinks, it is playing deep for the power of tyranny. Charles Fox is more moderate: he only games for an hundred thousand pounds that he has not.

Have you read the Life of Benvenuto Cellini,(38) my lord? I am angry with him for being more distracted and wrong-headed than my Lord Herbert. Till the revival of these two, I thought the present age had borne the palm of absurdity from all its predecessors. But I find our contemporaries are quiet good folks, that only game till they hang themselves, and do not kill every body they meet in the street. Who would have thought we were so reasonable?

Ranelagh, they tell me, is full of foreign dukes. There is a Duc de la Tr`emouille, a Duc d'Aremberg, and other grandees. I know the former, and am not sorry to be out of his way.

It is not pleasant to leave groves and lawns and rivers for a dirty town with a dirtier ditch, calling itself the Seine; but I dare not encounter the sea and bad inns in cold weather. This consideration will bring me back by the end of August. I should be happy to execute any commission for your lordship. You know how earnestly I wish always to show myself your lordship's most faithful humble servant.

(36) near Kensington. The villa of Lady Mary Coke.

(37) In the February of this-year Madame du Deffand had made her will, and bequeathed Walpole all her manuscripts-. In her letter of the 17th, informing him that she had so done, she says, "Je fis usage de votre 'j'y consens.' J'ai une vraie satisfaction que cette affaire soit termin`ee, et jamais vous ne m'avez fait un plus v`eritable plaisir qu'en pronon`cant ces deux mots."-E.

(38) The celebrated Florentine sculptor, "one of the most extraordinary men in an extraordinary age," so designated by Walpole. His Life, written by himself, was first published in English in 1771, from a translation by Dr. T. Nugent; of which a new edition, corrected and enlarged, with the notes and observations of G. P. Carpani, translated by Thomas Roscoe, appeared in 1822.-E.

Letter 27 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.
Arlington Street, June 22, 1771. (page 50)

I just write you a line, dear Sir, to acknowledge the receipt of the box of papers, which is come very safe, and to give you a thousand thanks for the trouble you have taken. As you promise me another letter I will wait to answer it.

At present I will only beg another favour, and with less shame, as it is of a kind you will like to grant. I have lately been at Lord Ossory's at Ampthill. You know Catherine of Arragon lived some time there.(39) Nothing remains of the castle, nor any marks of residence, but a very small bit of her garden. I proposed to Lord Ossory to erect a cross to her memory on the spot, and he will. I wish, therefore, you could, from your collections of books, or memory, pick out an authentic form of a cross, of a better appearance than the common run. It must be raised on two or three steps; and if they were octagon, would it not be handsomer? Her arms must be hung like an order upon it. Here is something of my idea.(40) The shield appendant to a collar. We will have some inscriptions to mark the cause of erection. Adieu! Your most obliged.

(39) After her divorce from Henry the Eighth.

(40) A rough sketch in the margin of the letter.

 Letter 28 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.
Strawberry Hill, June 24, 1771. (page 51)

Dear Sir, when I wrote to you t'other day, I had not opened the box of letters, and consequently had not found yours, for which, and the prints, I give you a thousand thanks; though Count Bryan I have, and will return to you. Old Walker(41) is very like, and is valuable for being mentioned in the Dunciad, and a curiosity, from being mentioned there without abuse.

Your notes are very judicious,(42) and your information most useful to me in drawing up some little preface to the Letters; which, however, I shall not have time now to do before my journey, as I shall set out on Sunday se'nnight. I like your motto much. The Lady Cecilia's Letters are, as you say, more curious for the writer than the matter. We know very little of those daughters of Edward IV. Yet she and her sister Devonshire lived to be old; especially Cecily, who was married to Lord Wells; and I have found why: he was first cousin to Henry VII., who, I suppose, thought it the safest match for her. I wish I knew all she and her sisters knew of her brothers, and their uncle Richard III. Much good may it do my Lord of Canterbury with his parboiled stag! Sure there must be more curiosities in Bennet Library!

Though your letter is so entertaining and useful to me, the passage I like best is a promise you make me of a visit in the autumn with Mr. Essex. Pray put him in mind of it, as I shall you. It would add much to the obligation if you would bring two or three of your MS. volumes of collections with you. Yours ever.

(41) Dr. Richard Walker, vice-master of Trinity College, by Lambourne.

(42) From King Edward's Journal relating to Mr. Fitzpatrick.

Letter 29 To John Chute, Esq.
Amiens, Tuesday evening, July 9, 1771. (page 51)

I am got no farther yet, as I travel leisurely, and do not venture to fatigue myself. My voyage was but of four hours. I was sick only by choice and precaution, and find myself in perfect health. The enemy, I hope, has not returned to pinch you again, and that you defy the foul fiend. The weather is but lukewarm, and I should choose to have all the windows shut, if my smelling was not much more summerly than my feeling; but the frowsiness of obsolete tapestry and needlework is insupportable. Here are old fleas and bugs talking of Louis Quatorze like tattered refugees in the park, and they make poor Rosette attend them, whether she will or not. This is a woful account of an evening in July, and which Monsieur de St. Lambert has omitted in his Seasons, though more natural than any thing he has placed there. I f the Grecian religion had gone into the folly of self-mortification, I suppose the devotees of Flora would have shut themselves up in a nasty inn, and have punished their noses for the sensuality of having smelt to a rose or a honeysuckle.

This is all I have yet to say; for I have had no adventure, no accident, nor seen a soul but my cousin Richard Walpole, whom I met on the road and spoke to in his chaise. To-morrow I shall lie at Chantilly, and be at Paris early on Thursday. The Churchills are there already. Good night— and a sweet one to you!

Paris, Wednesday night, July 10.

I was so suffocated with my inn last night, that I mustered all my resolution, rose with the alouette this morning, and was in my chaise by five o'clock I got hither by eight this evening, tired, but rejoiced; I have had a comfortable dish of tea, and am going to bed in clean sheets. I sink myself even to my dear old woman(43) and my sister; for it is impossible to sit down and be made charming At this time of night after fifteen posts, and after having been here twenty times before.

At Chantilly I crossed the Countess of Walpole, who lies there to-night on her way to England. But I concluded she had no curiosity about me-and I could not brag of more about her-and so we had no intercourse. I am wobegone to find my Lord F -* * * in the same hotel. He is as starched as an old-fashioned plaited neckcloth, and come to suck wisdom from this curious school of philosophy. He reveres me because I was acquainted with his father; and that does not at all increase my partiality to the son.

Luckily, the post departs early to-morrow morning I thought you would like to hear I was arrived -well. I should be happy to hear you are so; but do not torment yourself too soon, nor will I torment you. I have fixed the 26th of August for setting out on my return. These jaunts are too juvenile. I am ashamed to look back and remember in what year of Methuselah I was here first. Rosette Sends her blessing to her daughter. Adieu! Yours ever.

(43) Madame du Deffand; who, in her letter to Walpole of the 12th of June, had said, "Je sens l'exc`es de votre complaisance; j'ai tant de joie de l'esp`erance de vous revoir qu'il me semble que rien ne peut plus m'affliger ni m'attrister."—E.

Letter 30 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Paris, July 30, 1771. (page 52)

I do not know where you are, nor where this will find you, nor when it will set out to seek you, as I am not certain by whom I shall send it. It is of little consequence, as I have nothing material to tell you, but what you probably may have heard.

The distress here is incredible, especially at court. The King's tradesmen are ruined, his servants starving, and even angels and archangels cannot get their pensions and salaries, but sing, "Woe! woe! woe!" instead of Hosannahs. Compi`egne is abandoned; Villiers-coterets and Chantilly(44) crowded, and Chanteloup(45) still more in fashion, whither every body goes that pleases; though, when they ask leave, the answer is, "Je ne le defends ni le permets." This is the first time that ever the will of a King of France was interpreted against his inclination. Yet, after annihilating his Parliament, and ruining public credit, he tamely submits to be affronted by his own servants. Madame de Beauveau, and two or three high-spirited dames, defy this Czar of Gaul- Yet they and their cabal are as inconsistent on the other hand. They make epigrams, sing vaudevilles(46) against the mistress, hand about libels against the Chancellor, and have no more effect than a sky-rocket; but in three months will die to go to court, and to be invited to sup with Madame du Barry. The only real struggle is between the Chancellor(47) and the Duc d'Aiguillon. The first is false, bold, determined, and not subject to little qualms. The other is less known, communicates himself to nobody, is suspected of deep policy and deep designs, but seems to intend to set out under a mask of very smooth varnish; for he has just obtained the payment of all his bitter enemy La Chalotais' pensions and arrears. He has the advantage, too, of being but moderately detested in comparison of his rival, and, what he values more, the interest of the mistress.(48) The Comptroller-general serves both, by acting mischief more sensibly felt; for he ruins every body but those who purchase a respite from his mistress.(49) He dispenses bankruptcy by retail, and will fall, because he cannot even by these means be useful enough. They are striking off nine millions la caisse militaire, five from the marine, and one from the afaires `etrang`eres: yet all this will not extricate them. You never saw a great nation in so disgraceful a position. Their next prospect is not better: it rests on an imbecile, both in mind and body.

July 31.

Mr. Churchill and my sister set out to-night after supper, and I shall send this letter by them. There are no new books, no new Plays, no new novels; nay, no new fashions. They have dragged old Mademoiselle Le Maure out of a retreat of thirty years, to sing at the Colis`ee, which is a most gaudy Ranelagh, gilt, painted, and becupided like an Opera, but not calculated to last as long as Mother Coliseum, being composed of chalk and pasteboard. Round it are courts of treillage, that serve for nothing, and behind it a canal, very like a horsepond, on which there are fireworks and justs. Altogether it is very pretty; but as there are few nabobs and nabobesses in this country, and as the middling and common people are not much richer than Job when he had lost every thing but his patience, the proprietors are on the point of being ruined, unless the project takes place that is talked of. It is, to oblige Corneille, Racine, and Moli`ere to hold their tongues twice a-week, that their audiences may go to the Colis`ee. This is like our Parliament's adjourning when senators want to go to Newmarket. There is a Monsieur Gaillard writing a "History of the Rivalit`e de la France et de l'Angleterre."(50) I hope he will not omit this parallel.

The instance of their poverty that strikes me most, who make political observations by the thermometer of baubles, is, that there is nothing new in their shops. I know the faces of every snuff-box and every tea-cup as well as those of Madame du Lac and Monsieur Poirier. I have chosen some cups and saucers for my Lady Ailesbury, as she ordered me; but I cannot say they are at all extraordinary. I have bespoken two cabriolets for her, instead of six, because I think them very dear, and that she may have four more if she likes them. I shall bring, too, a sample of a baguette that suits them. For myself, between economy and the want of novelty, I have not laid out five guineas—a very memorable anecdote in the history of my life. Indeed, the Czarina and I have a little dispute; she has offered to purchase the whole Crozat collection of pictures, at which I had intended to ruin myself. The Turks thank her for it! Apropos, they are sending from hence fourscore officers to Poland, each of whom I suppose, like Almanzor, can stamp with his foot and raise an army.

As my sister travels like a Tartar princess with her whole horde, she will arrive too late almost for me to hear from you in return to this letter, which in truth requires no answer, v`u que I shall set out myself on the 26th of August. You will not imagine that I am glad to save myself the pleasure of hearing from you; but I would not give you the trouble of writing unnecessarily. If you are at home, and not in Scotland, you will judge by these dates where to find me. Adieu!

P. S. Instead of restoring the Jesuits, they are proceeding to annihilate the Celestines, Augustines, and some other orders.

(44) The country palaces of the Duke of Orleans and the Prince of Cond`e; who were in disgrace at court for having espoused the cause of the Parliament of Paris, banished by the Chancellor Maupeou.

(45) The country seat of the Duc de Choiseul, to which, on his ceasing to be first minister, he was banished by the King.

(46) The following `echantillon of these vaudevilles was given by Madame du Deffand to Walpole:—

"L'avez-vous vue, ma Du Barry,
Elle a ravi mon `ame;
Pour elle j'ai perdu l'esprit,
Des Fran`cais j'ai le bl`ame:
Charmants enfans de la Gourdon,
Est-elle chez vous maintenant?
Rendez-la-moi,
Je suis le Roi,
Soulagez mon martyre;
Rendez-la-moi,
Elle est `a moi,
Je suis son pauvre Sire.
Llavez-vous vue, etc.

"Je sais qu'autrefois les laquais
Ont f`et`e ses jeunes attraits;
Que les cochers,
Les peruquiers,
L'aimaient, l'aimaient d'amour ex`eme,
Mais pas autant que je l'aime.
L'avez-vous vue," etc,-E.

(47) Maupeou.

(48) Madame du Barry.'''

(49) The Abb`e Terrai was comptroller-general of the finances. His mistress, known in the fashionable circles of Paris by the name of La Sultane, received money, as it was supposed, in concert with the Abb`e himself, for every act of favour or justice solicited from the department over which he presided.-E.

(50) In a letter to Walpole, Madame du Deffand thus speaks of this work:—"Il m'arrive une bonne fortune apr`es laquelle je soupirais depuis longtemps: c'est un livre qui me plait infiniment; il est de M. Gaillard; il a Pour titre 'Rivalit`e de la France et de l'Angleterre;' il est par chapitres, et chaque chapitre est les `ev`enemens du r`egne d'un Roi de France et d'un Roi d'Angleterre contemporains. Il est bien loin d'`etre fini; il n'en est qu'a Philippe de Valois et Edouard Trois. Il n'y a que trois volumes; il y en aura peut-`etre douze ou quinze." The work, which was not completed till the year 1774, extended to eleven Volumes.-E.

Letter 31 To John Chute, Esq.
Paris, August 5, 1771. ((page 55)

It is a great satisfaction to Me to find by your letter of the 30th, that you have had no return of your gout. I have been assured here, that the best remedy is to cut one's nails in hot water. It is, I fear, as certain as any other remedy! It would at least be so here, if their bodies were of a piece with their understandings; or if both were as curable as they are the contrary. Your prophecy, I doubt, is not better founded than the prescription. I may be lame; but I shall never be a duck, nor deal in the garbage of the Alley. I envy your Strawberry tide, and need not say how much I wish I was there to receive you. Methinks, I should be as glad of a little grass, as a seaman after a long voyage. Yet English gardening gains ground here prodigiously-not much at a time, indeed—I have literally seen one, that is exactly like a tailor's paper of patterns. There is a Monsieur Boutin, who has tacked a piece of what he calls an English garden to a set of stone terraces, with steps of turf. There are three or four very high hills, almost as high as, and exactly in the shape of, a tansy pudding. You squeeze between these and a river, that is conducted at obtuse angles in a stone channel, and supplied by a pump, and when walnuts Come in I suppose it will be navigable. In a corner enclosed by a chalk wall are the samples I mentioned: there is a stripe of grass, another of corn, and a third en friche, exactly in the order of beds in a nursery. They have translated Mr. Whately's book,(51) and the Lord knows what barbarism is going to be laid at our door. This new anglomanie will literally be mad English.

New arr`ets, new retrenchments, new misery, stalk forth every day. The Parliament of Besan`con is dissolved; so are the grenadiers de France. The King's tradesmen are all bankrupt; no pensions are paid, and every body is reforming their suppers and equipages. Despotism makes converts faster than ever Christianity did. Louis Quinze is the true rex Ckristianissimus, and has ten times more success than his dragooning great-grandfather. Adieu, my dear Sir! Yours most faithfully.

Friday, 9th.

This was to have gone by a private hand, but cannot depart till Monday; so I may be continuing my letter till I bring it myself. I have been again at the Chartreuse; and though it was the sixth time, I am more enchanted with those paintings(52) than ever. If it is not the first work in the world, and must yield to the Vatican, yet in simplicity and harmony it beats Raphael himself. There is a vapour over all the pictures, that makes them more natural than any representation of objects-1 cannot conceive bow it is effected! You see them through the shine of a southeast wind. These poor folks do not know the inestimable treasure they possess—but they are perishing these pictures, and one gazes at them as at a setting sun. There is the purity of a Racine in them, but they give me more pleasure- -and I should much sooner be tired of the poet than of the painter.

It is very singular that I have not half the satisfaction in going into C, churches and convents that I used to have. The consciousness that the vision is dispelled, the want of fervour so obvious in the religious, the solitude that one knows proceeds from contempt, not from contemplation, make those places appear like abandoned theatres destined to destruction. The monks trot about as if they had not long to stay there; and what used to be the holy gloom is now but dirt and darkness. There is no more deception than in a tragedy acted by candlesnuffers. One is sorry to think that an empire of common sense would not be very picturesque; for, as there is nothing but taste that can compensate for the imagination of madness, I doubt there will never be twenty men of taste for twenty thousand madmen. The world will no more see Athens, Rome, and the Medici again, than a succession of five good emperors, like Nerva, Trajan, Adrian, and the two Antonines.

August 13.

Mr. Edmonson called on me; and, as he sets on to-morrow, I can safely trust my letter to him. I have, I own,, been much shocked at reading Gray's(53) death in the papers. 'Tis an hour that makes one forget any subject of complaint, especially towards one with whom I lived in friendship from thirteen years old. As self lies so rooted in self, no doubt the nearness of our ages made the stroke recoil to my own breast; and having so little expected his death, it is Plain how little I expect my own. Yet to you, who of all men living are the most forgiving, I need not excuse the concern I feel. I fear most men ought to apologize for their want of feeling, instead of palliating that sensation when they have it. I thought that what I had seen of the world had hardened my heart; but I find that it had formed my language, not extinguished my tenderness. In short, I am really shocked—nay, I am hurt at my own weakness, as I perceive that when I love any body, it is for my life; and I have had too Much reason not to wish that such a disposition may very seldom be put to the trial.(54) You, at least, are the only person to whom I would venture to make such a confession.

Adieu! my dear Sir! Let me know when I arrive, which will be about the last day of the month, when I am likely to see YOU. I have much to say to you. Of being here I am most heartily tired, and nothing but the dear old woman should keep me here an hour-I am weary of them to death-but that is not new! Yours ever.

(51) Entitled "An Essay on Design in Gardening," Mr. Whately was at this time under-secretary of state, and member for Castle Rising. In January, 1772, he was made keeper of the King's private roads, gates, and bridges, and died in the June following.-E.

(52) The Life of St. Bruno, painted by Le Soeur, in the cloister of the Chartreuse.

(53) On the 24th of July," says Mr. Mitford, "Gray, while at dinner in the college hall, was seized with an attack of the gout in his stomach. The violence of the disease resisted all the powers of medicine: on the 29th he was seized with convulsions, which returned more violently on the 30th; and he expired on the evening of that day, in the fifty-fifth year of his age." Works, Vol. i, P. lvi-E.

(54) "It will appear from this and the two following letters," observes Mr. Mitford, "that Walpole's affection and friendship for Gray was warm and sincere after the reconcilement took place; and indeed, before that, and immediately after the quarrel, I believe his regard for Gray was undiminished." Works, vol. iv. p. 2 12-E.

Letter 32 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Paris, August 11, 1771. (page 57)

You will have seen, I hope, before now, that I have not neglected writing to you. I sent you a letter by my sister, but doubt she has been a great while upon the road, as they travel with a large family. I was not sure where you was, and would not write at random by the post.

I was just going out when I received yours and the newspapers. I was struck in a most sensible manner, when, after reading your letter, I saw in the newspapers that Gray is dead! So very ancient an intimacy(55) and, I suppose, the natural reflection to self on losing a person but a year older, made me absolutely start in my chair. It seemed more a corporal than a mental blow; and yet I am exceedingly concerned for him, and every body must be so for the loss of such a genius. He called on me but two or three days before I came hither; he complained of being ill, and talked of the gout in his stomach—but I expected his death no more than my own—and yet the same death will probably be mine.(56) I am full of all these reflections-but shall not attrist you with them: only do not wonder that my letter will be short, when my mind is full of what I do not give vent to. It was but last night that I was thinking how few persons last, if one lives to be old, to whom one can talk without reserve. It is impossible to be intimate with the Young, because they and the old cannot converse on the same common topics; and of the old that survive, there are few one can commence a friendship with, because one has probably all one's life despised their heart or their understandings. These are the steps through which one passes to the unenviable lees of life!

I am very sorry for the state of poor Lady Beauchamp. It presages ill. She had a prospect of long happiness. Opium is a very false friend. I will get you Bougainville's book.(57) I think it is on the Falkland Isles, for it cannot be on those just discovered; but as I set out to-morrow se'nnight, and probably may have no opportunity sooner of sending it, I will bring it myself. Adieu! Yours ever.

(55) It will b recollected, that General Conway travelled with Gray and Walpole in 1739, and separated from them at Geneva.-E.

(56) Gray's last letter to Walpole was dated March 17, 1771; it contained the following striking passage:—"He must have a very strong stomach that can digest the crambe recocta of Voltaire. Atheism is a vile dish, though all the cooks of France combine to make new sauces to it. As to the soul, perhaps they may have none on the Continent; but I do think we have such things in England; Shakspeare, for example, I believe, had several to his own share. As to the Jews (though they do not eat pork), I like them, because they are better Christians than Voltaire." Works vol. iv. p. 190.-E.

(57) An English translation of the book appeared in 1773, under the title of "History of a Voyage to the Malonine, or Falkland Islands, made in 1763 and 1764, under the command of M. de Bougainville; and of two Voyages to the Straits of Magellan, with an account of the Patagonians; translated from Don Pernety's Historical Journal, written in French." In the same year was published a translation of Bougainville's "Voyage autour du Monde." This celebrated circumnavigator retired from the service in 1790. He afterwards was made Count and Senator by Napoleon Buonaparte, became member of the National Institute and of the Royal Society of London, and died at Paris in 1811, at the age of eighty-two.-E.

Letter 33 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.
Paris, August 12, 1771. (page 53)

I am excessively shocked at reading in the papers that Mr. Gray is dead! I wish to God you may be able to tell me it is not true! Yet in this painful uncertainty I must rest some days! None of my acquaintance are in London—I do not know to whom to apply but to you—alas! I fear in vain! Too many circumstances speak it true!—the detail is exact;—a second paper arrived by the same post, and does not contradict it—and, what is worse, I saw him but four or five days before I came hither: he had been to Kensington for the air, complained of the gout flying about him, of sensations of it in his stomach: I, indeed, thought him changed, and that he looked ill—still I had not the least idea of his being in danger—I started up from my chair when I read the paragraph—a cannon-ball would not have surprised me more! The shock but ceased, to give way to my concern; and my hopes are too ill-founded to mitigate it. If nobody has the charity to write to me, my anxiety must continue till the end of the month, for I shall set out on my return on the 26th; and unless you receive this time enough for your answer to leave London on the 20th, in the evening, I cannot meet it till I find it in Arlington-street, whither I beg you to direct it.

If the event is but too true, pray add to this melancholy service, that of telling me any circumstance you know of his death. Our long, very long friendship, and his genius, must endear to me every thing that relates to him. What writings has he left? Who are his executors?(58) I should earnestly wish, if he has destined any thing to the public, to print it at my press—it would do me honour, and would give me an opportunity of expressing what I feel for him. Methinks, as we grow old, our only business here is to adorn the graves of our friends, or to dig our own! Adieu, dear Sir! Yours ever.

P. S. I heard this unhappy news but last night; and have just been told, that Lord Edward Bentinck goes in haste to-morrow to England; so that you will receive this much sooner than I expected: still I must desire you to direct to Arlington-street, as by far the surest conveyance to me.

(58) His executors were, Mason the poet and the Rev. Dr. Brown, master of Pembroke Hall. "He hath desired," wrote Dr. Brown to Dr. Wharton, "to be buried near his mother, at Stoke, near Windsor, and that one of his executors would see him laid in the grave; a melancholy task, which must come to my share, for Mr. Mason is not here." Works, vol. iv. p. 206.-E.

Letter 34 To The Earl Of Strafford.
Paris, August 25, 1771. (page 59)

I have passed my biennial six weeks here, my dear lord, and am preparing to return as soon as the weather will allow me. It is some comfort to the patriot virtue, envy, to find this climate worse than our own. There were four very hot days at the end of last month, which, you know, with us northern people compose a summer: it has rained half this, and for these three days there has been a deluge, a storm, and extreme cold. Yet these folks shiver in silk, and sit with their Windows open till supper-time. Indeed, firing is very dear, and nabobs very scarce. Economy and retrenchment are the words in fashion, and are founded in a little more than caprice. I have heard no instance of luxury but in Mademoiselle Guimard, a favourite dancer, who is building a palace: round the salle `a manger there are windows that open upon hot-houses, that are to produce flowers all winter. That is worthy of * * * * * *. There is a finer dancer, whom Mr. Hobart is to transplant to London; a Mademoiselle Heinel or Ingle, a Fleming.(59) She is tall, perfectly made, very handsome, and has a set of attitudes copied from the classics. She moves as gracefully slow as Pygmalion's statue when it was Coming to life, and moves her leg round as imperceptibly as if she was dancing in the zodiac. But she is not Virgo.

They make no more of breaking parliaments here than an English mob does of breaking windows. It is pity people are so ill-sorted. If this King and ours could cross over and figure in, Louis XV. would dissolve our parliament if Polly Jones did but say a word to him. They have got into such a habit of it here, that you would think a parliament was a polypus: they cut it in two, and by next morning half of it becomes a whole assembly. This has literally been the case at Besan`con.(60) Lord and Lady Barrymore, who are in the highest favour at Compiegne, will be able to carry over the receipt.

Everybody feels in their own way. My grief is to see the ruinous Condition of the palaces and pictures. I was yesterday at the Louvre. Le Brun's noble gallery, where the battles of Alexander are, and of which he designed the ceiling, and even the shutters, bolts, and locks, is in a worse condition than the old gallery at Somerset-house. It rains in upon the pictures, though there are stores of much more valuable pieces than those of Le Brun. Heaps of glorious works by Raphael and all the great masters are piled up and equally neglected at Versailles. Their care is not less destructive in private houses. The Duke of Orleans' pictures and the Prince of Monaco's have been cleaned, and varnished so thick that you May see your face in them; and some of them have been transported from board to cloth, bit by bit, and the seams filled up with colour; so that in ten years they will not be worth sixpence. It makes me as peevish as if I was posterity! I hope your lordship's works will last longer than these of Louis XIV. The glories of his si`ecle hasten fast to their end, and little will remain but those of his authors.

(59) "It was at this time," says Dr. Burney, "that dancing seemed first to gain the ascendant over music, by the superior talents of Mademoiselle Heinel, whose grace and execution were so perfect as to eclipse all other excellence. Crowds assembled at the Opera-house, more for the gratification of the eye than the ear; for neither the invention of a new composer, nor the talents of new singers, attracted the public to the theatre, which was almost abandoned till the arrival of this lady, whose extraordinary merit had an extraordinary recompense; for, besides the six hundred pounds' salary allowed her by the Honourable Mr. Hobart, as manager, she was complimented with a regallo of six hundred more from the Maccaroni Club. 'E molto particulare,' said Cocchi, the Composer; 'ma quei Inglesi non fanno conto d'alcuna cosa se non ben pagata:' It is very extraordinary that the English set no value upon any thing but what they pay an exorbitant price for."-E.

(60) The Parliaments of Besan`con, Bourdeaux, Toulouse and Britany, were, in succession, totally suppressed by Louis XV. New courts were assembled in their stead; most of the former members being sent into banishment.-E.

Letter 35 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Arlington Street, Sept. 7, 1771. (page 61)

I arrived yesterday,(61) within an hour or two after you was gone, which mortified me exceedingly: Lord knows when I shall see you. You are so active and so busy, and cast bullets(62) and build bridges, are pontifex maximus, and, like Sir John Thorold or Cimon, triumph over land and wave, that one can never get a word with you. Yet I am very well worth a general's or a politician's ear. I have been deep in all the secrets of France, and confidant of some of the principals of both parties. I know what is, and is to be, though I am neither priest nor conjuror -and have heard a vast deal about breaking carabiniers and grenadiers; though, as usual, I dare say I shall give a woful account of both. The worst part is, that by the most horrid oppression and injustice their finances will very soon be in good order-unless some bankrupt turns Ravaillac, which will not surprise me. The horror the nation has conceived of the King and Chancellor makes it probable that the latter, at least, will be sacrificed. He seems not to be without apprehension, and has removed from the King's library a MS. trial of a chancellor who was condemned to be hanged under Charles VII. For the King, qui a fait ses `epreuves, and not to his honour, you will not wonder that he lives in terrors.

I have executed all Lady Ailesbury's commissions; but mind, I do not commission you to tell her, for you would certainly forget it. As you will, no doubt, come to town to report who burnt Portsmouth;(63) I will meet you here, if I am apprised of the day. Your niece's marriage,(64) pleases me extremely. Though I never saw him till last night, I know a great deal of her future husband, and like his character. His person is much better than I expected, and far preferable to many of the fine young moderns. He is better than Sir Watkin Williams Wynne, at least as well as the Duke of Devonshire, and Adonis compared to the charming Mr. Fitzpatrick. Adieu!

(61) Mr. Walpole arrived at Paris on the '10th of July, and left it on the 2d of September-E.

(62) Mr. Conway was now at the head of the ordnance, but with the title and appointments of lieutenant-general only. The particular circumstances attending this are thus recorded in a letter from Mr. Walpole to another correspondent at the time (January 1770), and deserve to be known:—"The King offered the mastership of the ordnance, on Lord Granby's resignation, to Mr. Conway, who is only lieutenant-general of it: he said he had lived in friendship with Lord Granby, and would not profit by his spoils; but, as he thought he could do some essential service in the office, where there were many abuses, if his Majesty would be pleased to let him continue as he is, be would do the business of the office without accepting the salary."-E.

(63) On the 27th of July, a fire had broken out in the dockyard at Portsmouth, which, as it might be highly prejudicial to the country at that period, excited universal alarm. The loss sustained by it, which at first was supposed to be half a million, is said to have been about one hundred and fifty thousand pounds.-E.

(64) The marriage of Lady Gertrude Seymour Conway to Lord Villiers, afterwards Earl of Grandison.

Letter 36 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.
Strawberry Hill, Sept. 10, 1771. (page 62)

However melancholy the occasion is, I can but give you a thousand thanks, dear Sir-., for the kind trouble you have taken, and the information you have given me about poor Mr. Gray. I received your first letter at Paris; the last I found at my house in town, where I arrived only on Friday last. The circumstance of the professor refusing to rise in the night and visit him, adds to the shock. Who is that true professor of physic? Jesus! is their absence to murder as well as their presence?

I have not heard from Mr. Mason, but I have written to him. Be so good as to tell the Master at Pembroke,(65) though I have not the honour of knowing him, how sensible I am of his proposed attention to me, and how much I feel for him in losing a friend of so excellent a genius. Nothing will allay my own concern like seeing any of his compositions that I have not yet seen. It is buying them too dear—but when the author is irreparably lost, the produce of his Mind is the next best possession. I have offered my press to Mr. Mason, and hope it will be accepted.

Many thanks for the cross, dear Sir; it is precisely what I wished. I hope you and Mr. Essex preserve your resolution of passing a few days here between this and Christmas. Just at present I am not My own master, having stepped into the middle of a sudden match in my own family. Lord Hertford is going to marry his third daughter to Lord Villiers, son of Lady Grandison, the present wife of Sir Charles Montagu. We are all felicity, and in a round of dinners. I am this minute returned from Beaumont-lodge, at Old Windsor, where Sir Charles Grandison lives. I will let you know, if the papers do not, when our festivities are subsided.

I shall receive with gratitude from Mr. Tyson either drawing or etching of our departed friend; but wish not to have it inscribed to me, as it is an honour, more justly due to Mr. Stonehewer. If the Master of Pembroke will accept a copy of a small picture I have of Mr. Gray, painted soon after the publication of his Ode on Eton, it shall be at his service—and after his death I beg, it may be bequeathed to his college. Adieu!

(65) Dr. James Brown. Gray used to call him "le petit bon homme;" and Cole, in his Athene Cantab, says of him—"He is a very worthy man, a good scholar, small, and short-sighted." In the Chatham Correspondence there will be found an interesting letter from the Master of Pembroke to Lord Chatham, in which he thus speaks of his illustrious son, the future minister of this country: " Notwithsanding the illness of your son, I have myself seen, and have heard enough from his tutors, to be convinced both of his extraordinary genius and most amiable disposition. He promises fair, indeed to be one of those extraordinary persons whose eminent parts, equalled by as eminent industry, continue in a progressive state throughout their lives; such persons appear to be formed by Heaven to assist and bless mankind." Vol. iv. p. 311.-E.

Letter 37 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.
Strawberry Hill, Oct. 12, 1771. (page 63)

Dear Sir, As our wedding will not be so soon as I expected, and as I should be unwilling You Should take a journey in bad weather, I wish it may be convenient to you and Mr. Essex to come hither on the 25th day of this present month. If one can depend on any season, it is on the chill suns of October, which, like an elderly beauty, are less capricious than spring or summer. Our old-fashioned October, you know, reached eleven days into modern November, and I still depend on that reckoning, when I have a mind to protract the year.

Lord Ossory is charmed with Mr. Essex's cross(66) and wishes much to consult him on the proportions. Lord Ossory has taken a small house very near mine; is now, and will be here again, after Newmarket. He is determined to erect it at Ampthill, and I have written the following lines to record the reason:

In days of old here Ampthill's towers were seen;
The mournful refuge of an injured queen.
 Here flowed her pure, but unavailing tears;
Here blinded zeal sustain'd her sinking years.
 Yet Freedom hence-her radiant banners waved,
And love avenged a realm by priests enslaved.
 From Catherine's wrongs a nation's bliss was spread,
And Luther's light from Henry's lawless bed,

I hope the satire on Henry VIII. will make you excuse the compliment to Luther, Which, like most poetic compliments, does not come from my heart. I only like him better than Henry, Calvin, and the Church of Rome, who were bloody persecutors. Calvin was an execrable villain, and the worst of all; for he copied those whom he pretended to correct. Luther was as jovial as Wilkes, and served the cause of liberty without canting. Yours most sincerely.

(66) Mr. Cole applied to Mr. Essex, who furnished a design for the cross, which was followed.

Letter 38 To The Rev Mr. Cole.
Strawberry Hill, Oct. 23, 1771. (page 63)

I am sorry, dear Sir, that I cannot say your answer is as agreeable and entertaining as you flatter me my letter was; but consider, you are prevented coming to me, and have flying pains of rheumatism—either were sufficient to spoil your letter.

I am sure of being here till to-morrow se'nnight, the last of this month; consequently I may hope to see Mr. Essex here on Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday next. After that I cannot answer for myself, on account of our wedding, which depends on the return of a courier from Ireland. If I can command any days certain in November, I will give you notice: and yet I shall have a scruple of dragging you so far from home at such a season. I will leave it to your option, only begging you to be assured that I shall always be most happy to see you.

I am making a very curious purchase at Paris, the complete armour of Francis the First. It is gilt, in relief, and is very rich and beautiful. It comes out of the Crozat collection.(67) I am building a small chapel, too, in my garden, to receive two valuable pieces of antiquity, and which have been presents singularly lucky for me. They are the window from Bexhill, with the portraits of Henry III. and his Queen, procured for me by Lord Ashburnham. The other, great part of the tomb of Capoccio, mentioned in my Anecdotes of Painting on the subject of the Confessor's shrine, and sent to me from Rome by Mr. Hamilton, our minister at Naples. It is very extraordinary that I should happen to be master of these curiosities. After next summer, by which time my castle and collection will be complete (for if I buy more I must build another castle for another collection), I propose to form another catalogue and description, and shall take the liberty to call on you for your assistance. In the mean time there is enough new to divert you at present.

(67) This curiosity was at first estimated at a thousand crowns, but Madame du Deffand finally purchased it for Walpole for fifty louis. "Ce bijou," she says, "me parait un peu cher et ressemble beaucoup aux casques du Ch`ateau d,Otrante: si vous persistez `a le d`esirer, je le payerai, je le ferai encaisser et Partir sur le champ. C'est certainement une pi`ece tr`es belle et tr`es rare, mais infiniment ch`ere."-E.

Letter 39 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Late Strawberry Hill, Jan. 7, 1772. (page 64)

You have read of my calamity without knowing it, and will pity me when you do. I have been blown up; my castle is blown up; Guy Fawkes has been about my house: and the 5th of November has fallen on the 6th of January! In short, nine thousand powder-mills broke loose yesterday morning on Hounslow-heath;(68) a whole squadron of them came hither, and have broken eight of my painted-glass windows; and the north side of the castle looks as if it had stood a siege. The two saints in the hall have suffered martyrdom! they have had their bodies cut off, and nothing remains but their heads. The two next great sufferers are indeed two of the least valuable, being the passage-windows to the library and great parlour—a fine pane is demolished in the round-room; and the window by the gallery is damaged. Those in the cabinet, and Holbein-room, and gallery, and blue-room, and green-closet, etc. have escaped. As the storm came from the northwest, the china-closet was not touched, nor a cup fell down. The bow-window of brave old coloured glass, at Mr. Hindley's, is massacred; and all the north sides of Twickenham and Brentford are shattered. At London it was proclaimed an earthquake, and half the inhabitants ran into the street.

As lieutenant-general of the ordnance, I must beseech you to give strict order that no more powder-mills may blow up. My aunt, Mrs. Kerwood, reading one day in the papers that a distiller's had been burnt by the head of the still flying off, said, she wondered they did not make an act of parliament against the heads of stills flying off. Now, I hold it much easier for you to do a body this service; and would recommend to your consideration whether it would not be prudent to have all magazines of powder kept under water till they are wanted for service. In the mean time, I expect a pension to make me amends for what I have suffered under the government. Adieu! Yours.

(68) Three powder-mills blew up on Hounslow-heath, on the 6th of January, when such was the violence of the explosion that it was felt not only in the metropolis, but as far as Gloucester, and was very generally mistaken for the shock of an earthquake.-E.

Letter 40 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.
Arlington Street, Jan. 28, 1772. (page 65)

It is long indeed, dear Sir, since we corresponded. I should not have been silent if I had had any thing worth telling you in your way: but I grow such an antiquity myself, that I think I am less fond of what remains of our predecessors.

I thank you for Bannerman's proposal; I mean, for taking the trouble to send it, for I am not at all disposed to subscribe. I thank you more for the note on King Edward; I mean, too, for your friendship in thinking of me. Of Dean Milles I cannot trouble myself to think any more. His piece is at Strawberry: perhaps I may look at it for the sake of your note. The bad weather keeps me in town, and a good deal at home; which I find very comfortable, literally practising what so many persons pretend they intend, being quiet and enjoying my fireside in my elderly days.

Mr. Mason has shown me the relics of poor Mr. Gray. I am sadly disappointed at finding them so very inconsiderable. He always persisted, when I inquired about his writings, that he had nothing by him. I own I doubted. I am grieved he was so very near exact—I speak of my own satisfaction; as to his genius, what he published during his life will establish his fame as long as our language lasts, and there is a man of genius left. There is a silly fellow, I do not know who, that has published a volume of Letters on the English Nation, With characters of our modern authors. He has talked such nonsense On Mr. Gray, that I have no patience with the compliments he has paid me. He must have an excellent taste; and gives me a woful opinion of my own trifles, when he likes them, and cannot see the beauties of a poet that ought to be ranked in the first line. I am more humbled by any applause in the present age, than by hosts of such critics as Dean Milles. Is not Garrick reckoned a tolerable author, though he has proved how little sense is necessary to form a great actor'? His Cymon, his prologues and epilogues, and forty such pieces of trash, are below mediocrity, and yet delight the mob in the boxes as well as in the footman's gallery. I do not mention the things written in his praise; because he writes most Of them himself! But you know any one popular merit can confer all merit. Two women talking Of Wilkes, one said he squinted—t'other replied, "Squints!—well, if he does, it is not more than a man should squint." For my part, I can see how extremely well Garrick acts, without thinking him six feet high. It is said Shakspeare was a bad actor; why do not his divine plays make our wise judges conclude that he was a good one? They have not a proof of the contrary, as they have in Garrick's works—but what is it to you or me what he is? We may see him act with pleasure, and nothing obliges us to read his writings.(69)

(69) The best defence of Garrick against the charges which Walpole so repeatedly brings against him will be found in the estimation in which he was held by the most distinguished of his contemporaries. His friend Dr. Johnson thought well of' his talent in prologue writing: "Dryden," he said, "has written prologues superior to any that David has written; but David has written more good prologues than Dryden has done. It is wonderful that he has been able to write such variety of them. A true conception of character and natural expression of it, were his distinguished excellences; but I thought him less to be envied on the stage than at the head of a table. He was the first man in the world for sprightly conversation."-E.

Letter 41 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.
Arlington Street, June 9, 1772. (page 66)

Dear sir, The preceding paper(70) was given me by a gentleman, who has a better opinion of my bookhood than I deserve. I could give him no satisfaction, but told him, I would get inquiry made at Cambridge for the pieces he wants. If you can give any assistance in this chase, I am sure you will: as it will be trouble enough, I will not make my letter longer.

(70) This letter enclosed some queries from a gentleman abroad, respecting books, etc. relating to the order of Malta.

Letter 42 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.
Strawberry Hill, June 17, 1772. (page 66)

Dear sir, You are a mine that answers beyond those of Peru. I have given the treasure you sent me to the gentleman from whom I had the queries. He is vastly obliged to you, and I am sure so am I, for the trouble you have given yourself"and, therefore I am going to give you more. King Edward's Letters are printed.(71) Shall I keep them for you or send them, and how? I intend you four copies—shall you want more? Lord Ossory takes a hundred, and I have as many; but none will be sold.

I am out of materials for my press. I am thinking of printing some numbers of miscellaneous MSS. from my own and Mr. Gray's collection. If you have any among your stores that are historic, new and curious, and like to have them printed, I shall be glad of them. Among Gray's are letters of Sir Thomas Wyat the elder.(72) I am sure you must have a thousand hints about him. If you will send them to me I will do you justice; as you will see I have in King Edward's Letters. Do you know any thing of his son,(73) the insurgent, in Queen Mary's reign?

I do not know whether it was not to Payne the bookseller, but I am sure I gave somebody a very few notes to the British Topography. They were indeed of very little consequence.

I have got to-day, and am reading with entertainment, two vols. in octavo, the Lives of Leland, Hearne, and Antony Wood.,(74) I do not know the author, but he is of Oxford. I think you should add that of your friend Brown Willis.(75) There is a queer piece on Freemasonry in one of the volumes, said to be written, on very slender authority, by Henry VI. with notes by Mr. Locke: a very odd conjunction! It says that Arts were brought from the East by Peter Gower. As I am sure you will not find an account of this singular person in all your collections, be it known to you, that Peter Gower was commonly called Pythagoras. I remember our newspapers insisting that Thomas Kouli Khan was an Irishman, and that his true name was Thomas Callaghan.

On reading over my letter, I find I am no sceptic, having affirmed no less than four times, that I am sure. Though this is extremely awkward, I am sure I will not write my letter over again; so pray excuse or burn my tautology.

P. S. I had like to have forgotten the most obliging, and to me the most interesting part of your letter-your kind offer of coming hither. I accept it most gladly; but, for reasons I will tell you, wish it may be deferred a little. I am going to Park-place (General Conway's), then to Ampthill (Lord Ossory's), and then to Goodwood (Duke of Richmond's); and the beginning of August to Wentworth Castle (Marquis of Rockingham's); so that I shall not be at all settled here till the end of the latter month. But I have a stronger reason. By that time will be finished a delightful chapel I am building in my garden, to contain the shrine of Capoccio, and the Window with Henry III. and his Queen. My new bedchamber will be finished too, which is now all in litter: and, besides, September is a quiet month; visits to make or receive are over, and the troublesome go to shoot partridges. If that time suits you, pray assure me I shall see you on the first of September.

(71) "Copies of seven original Letters from King Edward VI. to Barnaby Fitzpatrick." Strawberry Hill, 1772.-E.

(72) He was the contemporary and friend of Surrey, and was accused by Henry VIII. of being the paramour of Anne Boleyn; but the King's suspicion dying away, he was appointed, in 1537, Henry's ambassador to the Emperor. His poems have recently been published in the Aldine edition of the Poets; and in the Biographical Preface to them are included some of his admirable letters.-E.

(73) Sir Thomas Wyatt "the younger," son of the preceding, who is presumed to have received that designation from having been knighted in the lifetime of his father. Having joined in the effort to place Lady Jane Grey on the throne, he was condemned and executed for high treason, on the 11th of April 1554.-E.

(74) The editor was W. Huddersford, fellow of Trinity College.-E.

(74) Browne Willis, the antiquary, and author of "A Survey of the Cathedrals of England;" "Notitia Parliamentaria," etc. He was born at Blandford in 1682, and died in February 1760. Dr. Ducarel printed privately, immediately after his death, a small quarto pamphlet, entitled " Some Account Of Browne Willis, Esq. LL. D." One of Willis's peculiarities was his fondness for visiting cathedrals on the saints, days to which they were dedicated.-E.

Letter 43 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Strawberry Hill, Monday, June 22, 1772. (page 68)

It is lucky that I have had no dealings with Mr. Fordyce;(75) for, if he had ruined me, as he has half the world, I could not have run away. I tired myself with walking on Friday: the gout came on Saturday in my foot; yesterday I kept my bed till four o'clock, and my room all day-but, with wrapping myself all over with bootikins, have scarce had any pain-my foot swelled immediately, and today I am descended into the blueth and greenth:(76) and though you expect to find that I am paving the way to an excuse, I think I shall be able to be with you on Saturday. All I intend to excuse myself from, is walking. I should certainly never have the gout, if I had lost the use of my feet. Cherubims that have no legs, and do nothing but stick their chins in a cloud and sing, are never out of order. Exercise is the worst thing in the world, and as bad an invention as gunpowder.

Apropos to Mr. Fordyce, here is a passage ridiculously applicable to him, that I met with yesterday in the letters of Guy Patin: "Il n'y a pas long-temps qu'un auditeur des comptes nomm`e Mons. Nivelle fit banqueroute; et tout fra`ichement, c'est-`a-dire depuis trois jours, un tr`esorier des parties casuelles, nomm`e SanSon, en a fait autant; et pour vous montrer qu'il est vrai que res humanae faciunt circulum, comme il a `et`e autrefois dit par Plato et par Aristote, celui-l`a s'en retourne d'o`u il vient. Il est fils d'un paysan; il a `et`e laquais de son premier m`etier, et aujourd'hui il n'est plus rien, si non qu'il lui reste une assez belle femme."—I do not think I can find in Patin or Plato, nay, nor in Aristotle, though he wrote about every thing, a parallel case to Charles Fox:(77) there are advertised to be sold more annuities of his and his society, to the amount of five hundred thousand pounds a-year! I wonder what he will do next, when he has sold the estates of all his friends!

I have been reading the most delightful book in the world, the Lives of Leland, Tom earne, and Antony Wood. The last's diary makes a thick volume in octavo. One entry is, "This day Old Joan began to make my bed." In the story of Leland is an examination of a freemason, written by the hand of King Henry VI., with notes by Mr. Locke. Freemasonry, Henry VI., and Locke, make a strange heterogeneous olio; but that is not all. The respondent, who defends the mystery of masonry, says it was brought into Europe by the Venetians—he means the Phoenicians. And who do you think propagated it? Why, one Peter Gore—And who do you think that was?—One Pythagoras, Pythagore. I do not know whether it is not still More extraordinary, that this and the rest of the nonsense in that account made Mr. Locke determine to be a freemason: so would I too, if I could expect to hear of more Peter Gores.

Pray tell Lady Lyttelton that I say she will certainly kill herself if she lets Lady Ailesbury drag her twice a-day to feed the pheasants, and you make her climb cliffs and clamber over mountains. She has a tractability that alarms me for her; and if she does not pluck up a spirit, and determine never to be put out of her own way, I do not know what may be the Consequence. I will come and set her an example of immovability. Take notice, I do not say one civil syllable to Lady Ailesbury. She has not passed a whole day here these two years. She is always very gracious, says she will come when you will fix a time, as if you governed, and then puts it off whenever it is proposed, nor will spare one Single day from Park-place-as if other people were not as partial to their own Park-places, Adieu! Yours ever.

Tuesday noon.

I wrote my letter last night; this morning I received yours, and shall wait till Sunday, as you bid me, which will be more convenient for my gout, though not for other engagements, but I shall obey the superior, as nullum tempus occurrit regi et podagrae.

(75) The greatest consternation prevailed at this time in the metropolis, in consequence of the banking-house of Neale, James, Fordyce, and Down having stopped payment. Fordyce was bred a hosier in Aberdeen. For a memoir of him, see Gent. Mag. vol. x1ii. p. 310.-E.

(76) Cant words of Walpole for blue and green. He means, that he came out of his room to the blue sky and green fields.

(77) Gibbon, in a letter to Mr. Holroyd, of the 8th of February, in reference to the recent debate in the House of Commons, on the clerical petition for relief from subscription to the Thirty-nine Articles, says—"I congratulate you on the late victory of our dear Mamma, the Church of England. She had, last Thursday, seventy-one rebellious sons, Who pretended to set aside her will, on a account of insanity; but two hundred and seventeen worthy champions, headed by Lord North, Burke, Charles Fox, etc., though they allowed the thirty-nine clauses of her testament were absurd and unreasonable, supported the validity of it with infinite honour. By the bye, Charles Fox prepared himself for that holy work by passing twenty-one hours in the pious exercise of hazard; his devotions cost him only about five hundred pounds an hour, in all, eleven thousand pounds."-E.

Letter 44 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.
Strawberry Hill, July 7, 1772. (page 70)

Dear Sir, I sent you last week by the Cambridge Fly, that puts up in Gray's-inn-lane, six copies of King Edward's Letters, but fear I forgot to direct their being left at Mr. Bentham's, by which neglect perhaps you have not yet got them; so that I have been very blamable, while I thought I was very expeditious; and it was not till reading your letter again just now that I discovered my carelessness.

I have not heard of Dr. Glynn, etc., but the housekeeper has
orders to receive them. I thank you a thousand times for the
Maltese notes, which I have given to the gentleman, and for the
Wyattiana: I am going to work on the latter.

I have not yet seen Mr. 's print, but am glad it is so like. I expected Mr. Mason would have sent me one early; but I suppose he keeps it for me, as I shall call on him in my way to Lord Strafford's.

Mr. West,(78) one of our brother antiquaries, is dead. He had a very curious collection of old pictures, English coins, English prints, and manuscripts. But he was so rich, that I take for granted nothing will be sold. I could wish for his family pictures of Henry V. and Henry VIII.

Foote, in his new comedy of The Nabob, has lashed Master Doctor Miles and our Society very deservedly for the nonsensical discussion they had this winter about Whittington and his Cat. Few of them are fit for any thing better than such researches. Poor Mr. Granger has been very ill, but is almost recovered. I intend to invite him to meet you in September. It is a party I shall be very impatient for: you know how sincerely I am, dear Sir, your obliged and Obedient humble servant.

(78) James West, Esq. He was for some time one of the secretaries of the treasury, vice president of the Society of Antiquaries, and president of the Royal Society. His curious collection of manuscripts were purchased by the Earl of Shelburne, and are now deposited in the British Museum.-E.

Letter 45 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.
Strawberry Hill, July 28, 1772. (page 70)

Dear Sir, I am anew obliged to you, as I am perpetually, for the notice you give me of another intended publication against me in the Archaeologia, or Old Woman's Logic. By Your account, the author will add much credit to their Society! For my part, I shall take no notice of any of his handycrafts. However, as there seems to be a willingness to carp at me, and as gnats may on a sudden provoke one to give a slap, I choose to be at liberty to say what I think Of the learned Society; and therefore I have taken leave of them, having so good an occasion presented as their council on Whittington and his Cat, and the ridicule that Foote has thrown on them. They are welcome to say any thing on my writings, but that they are the works of a fellow of so foolish a Society.

I am at work on the Life of Sir Thomas Wyat, but it does not please me; nor will it be entertaining, though you have contributed so many materials towards it. You must take one trouble more it is to inquire and search for a book that I want to see. It is the Pilgrim; was written by William Thomas, who was executed in Queen Mary's time; but the book was printed under, and dedicated to, Edward VI. I have only an imperfect memorandum of it, and cannot possibly recall to mind from whence I made it. All I think I remember is, that the book was in the King's library. I have sent to the Museum to inquire after it; but I cannot find it mentioned in Ames's History of English Printers. Be so good as to ask all your antiquarian friends if they know such a work.

Amidst all your kindness, you have added one very disagreeable paragraph:—I mean, you doubt about coming here in September. Fear of a sore throat would be a reason for your never coming. It is one of the distempers in the world the least to be foreseen, and September, a dry month, one of the least likely months to bring it. I do not like your recurring to so very ill-founded an excuse, and positively will not accept it, unless you wish I should not be so much as I an, dear Sir, Your most faithful humble servant, H. W.

Letter 46 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.
Strawberry Hill, Aug. 25, 1772. (page 71)

Dear sir,
I thank YOU for your notices, dear Sir, and will deliver you
from the trouble of any further pursuit of the Peleryne of
Thomas. I have discovered him among the Cottonian MSS. in the
Museum, and am to see him.