To GEORGE MONTAGU, Esq.

Arlington-street, Dec. 16, 1766.

I WROTE to you last post on the very day I ought to have received yours, but being at Strawberry, did not get it in time. Thank you for your offer of a doe; you know, when I dine at home here, it is quite alone, and venison frightens my little meal; yet, as half of it is designed for dimidium animæ meæ Mrs. Clive (a pretty round half), I must not refuse it; venison will make such a figure at her Christmas gambols! only let me know when and how I am to receive it, that she may prepare the rest of her banquet; I will convey it to her.

I don't like your wintering so late in the country. Adieu!

Yours ever.

To GEORGE MONTAGU, Esq.

Tuesday, Jan. 13, 1767.

it

I AM going to eat some of your venison, and dare to say is very good; I am sure you are, and thank you for it. Catherine, I do not doubt, is up to the elbows in currant jelly and gratitude.

I have lost poor Louis, who died last week at Strawberry. He had no fault but what has fallen upon himself, poor soul ! drinking; his honesty and good-nature were complete; and I am heartily concerned for him, which I shall seldom say so sincerely.

There has been printed a duil complimentary letter to me on the quarrel of Hume and Rousseau. In one of the reviews they are so obliging as to say I wrote it myself; it is so dull, that I should think they wrote it themselves—a kind of abuse I should dislike much more than their criticism.

Are not you frozen, perished? How do you keep yourself alive on your mountain? I scarce stir from my fire-side. I have scarce been at Strawberry for a day this whole Christmas, and there is less appearance of a thaw to-day than ever. There has been dreadful havoc at Margate and Aldborough, and along

the coast. At Calais, the sea rose above sixty feet perpendicular, which makes people conclude there has been an earthquake somewhere or other. I shall not think of my journey to France yet; I suffered too much with the cold last year at Paris, where they have not the least idea of comfortable, but sup in stone halls, with all the doors open,

Adieu! I must go dress for the drawing-room of the princess of Wales.

To DR. DUCAREL.

Yours ever.

April 25, 1767.

MR. WALPOLE has been out of town, or should have thanked Dr. Ducarel sooner for the obliging favour of his most curious and valuable work,' which Mr. Walpole has read with the greatest pleasure and satisfaction. He will be very much obliged to Dr. Ducarel if he will favour him with a set of the prints separate; which Mr. Walpole would be glad to put into his volumes of English Heads; and shall be happy to have an opportunity of returning these obligations.

TO THE EARL OF STRAFFORD.

MY DEAR LORd,

Strawberry-hill, July 29, 1767.

I am very sorry that I must speak of a loss that will give you and lady Strafford concern; an essential loss to me, who am deprived of a most agreeable friend, with whom I passed here many hours. I need not say I mean poor lady Suffolk.' I was with her two hours on Saturday night; and, indeed, found her much changed, though I did not apprehend her in danger. I was going to say she complained-but you know she never

1 Anglo-Norman Antiquities. [Or.]

1 Henrietta Hobart countess of Suffolk. For a further account of her see the Reminiscences. [Or.]

did complain-of the gout and rheumatism all over her, particularly in her face. It was a cold night, and she sat below stairs when she should have been in bed; and I doubt this want of care was prejudicial. I sent next morning. She had a bad night; but grew much better in the evening. Lady Dalkeith came to her; and, when she was gone, lady Suffolk said to lord Chetwynd, She would eat her supper in her bed-chamber." He went up with her, and thought the appearances promised a good night: but she was scarce sat down in her chair, before she pressed her hand to her side, and died in half an hour.

I believe both your lordship and lady Strafford will be surprised to hear that she was by no means in the situation that most people thought. Lord Chetwynd2 and myself were the only persons at all acquainted with her affairs, and they were far from being even easy to her. It is due to her memory to say, that I never saw more strict honour and justice. She bore knowingly the imputation of being covetous, at a time that the strictest economy could by no means prevent her exceeding her income considerably. The anguish of the last years of her life, though concealed, flowed from the apprehension of not satisfying her few wishes, which were, not to be in debt, and to make a provision for miss H * * * *3 I can give your lordship strong instances of the sacrifices she tried to make to her principles. I have not yet heard if her will is opened; but it will surprise those who thought her rich. Lord Chetwynd's friendship to her has been unalterably kind and zealous, and is not ceased. He stays in the house with miss H * * * * till some of her family come to take her away. I have perhaps dwelt too long on this subject; but, as it was not permitted me to do her justice when alive, I own I cannot help wishing that those who had a regard for her, may now at least know how much more she deserved it than even they suspected. In truth, I never knew a woman more respectable for her honour and principles, and have lost few persons in my life whom I shall miss so much. I am, my dear lord, yours most sincerely.

2 William Richard, third viscount Chetwynd, youngest brother of Walter first viscount, succeeded to the title 21st June 1767, upon the death of his second brother, John, second viscount; and died 3d April 1770. [Ed.] 3 Her great niece. [Or.]

To GEORGE MONTAGU, Esq.

Arlington-street, July 31, 1767.

I FIND one must cast you into debt, if one has a mind to hear of you. You would drop one with all your heart, if one would let you alone. Did not you talk of passing by Strawberry in June, on a visit to the bishop? I did not summon you, because I have not been sure of my own motions for two days together for these three months. At last all is subsided; the administration will go on pretty much as it was, with Mr. Conway for part of it. The fools and the rogues, or, if you like proper names, the Rockinghams and the Grenvilles, have bungled their own game, quarrelled, and thrown it away.

Where are you? What are you doing? Where are you going or staying? I shall trip to Paris in about a fortnight, for a month or six weeks. Indeed, I have had such a loss in poor lady Suffolk, that my autumns at Strawberry will suffer exceedingly, and will not be repaired by my lord Buckingham. I have been in pain, too, and am not yet quite easy about my brother, who is in a bad state of health. Have you waded through or into lord Lyttelton? How dull one may be, if one will but take pains for six or seven-and-twenty years together! Except one day's gout, which I cured with the bootikins, I have been quite well since I saw you: nay, with a microscope you would perceive I am fatter. Mr. Hawkins saw it with his naked eye, and told me it was common for lean people to grow fat when they grow old. I am afraid the latter is more certain than the former, and I submit to it with a good grace. There is no keeping off age by sticking roses and sweet peas in one's hair, as miss Chudleigh does still.

If you are not totally abandoned, you will send me a line before I go. The Clive has been desperately nervous, but I

1 "The History of the Life of King Henry the Second, and of the Age in which he lived," by George lord Lyttelton, 4to., London, 1767, &c. 4 vols. 4to. It was of this nobleman and his work that Dr. Johnson remarked, “that he was thirty years in preparing his History, and that he employed another man to point it for him, as if another man could point it better than himself.” [Ed.]

have convinced her it did not become her, and she has recovered her rubicundity. Adieu!

Yours ever.

To GEORGE MONTAGU, Esq.

Friday, Aug. 7, 1767.

As I am turned knight-errant, and going again in search of my old fairy, I will certainly transport your enchanted casket, and will endeavour to procure some talisman, that may secrete it from the eyes of those unheroic harpies, the officers of the custom-house. You must take care to let me have it before to-morrow se'nnight.

The house at Twickenham, with which you fell in love, is still unmarried; but they ask a hundred and thirty pounds a-year for it. If they asked one hundred and thirty thousand pounds for it, perhaps my lord Clive might snap it up; but that not being the case, I don't doubt but it will fall, and I flatter myself that you and it may meet at last upon reasonable terms. That of general Trapaud is to be had at fifty pounds a-year, but with a fine on entrance of five hundred pounds. As I propose to return by the beginning of October, perhaps I may see you, and then you may review both. Since the loss of poor lady Suffolk, I am more desirous than ever of having you in my neighbourhood, as I have not a rational acquaintance left. Adieu !

Yours ever.

DEAR SIR,

TO THE REV. MR. COLE.

Arlington-street, October 24, 1767.

It is an age since we have had any correspondence. My long and dangerous illness last year, with my journey to Bath; my long attendance in parliament all winter, spring, and to the beginning of summer; and my journey to France since, from whence I returned but last week, prevented my asking the pleasure of seeing you at Strawberry-hill.