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haranguing for this war; with a most rhetorical transition, he turned to the tapestry in the House of Lords, and said, with a sigh, he feared there were no historical looms at work now! Indeed, we have reason to bless the good patriots, who have been for employing our manufacturers so historically. The countess of that wise earl, with whose two expressive words I began this letter, says, she is very bappy now that my lord had never a place upon the coalition, for then all this bad situation of our affairs would have been laid
Now I have been talking of remarkable periods in our annals, I must tell you what my lord Bal. timore thinks one. He said to the prince t'other day, “Sir, your royal highness's marriage will be an area in English history.”
If it were not for the life that is put into the town now and then by very bad news from abroad, one should be quite stupified. There is nobody left but two or three solitary regents, and they are always whisking backwards and forwards to their villas ; and about a dozen antediluvian dowagers, whose carcasses have miraculously resisted the wet, and who every Saturday compose a very reverend catacomb at my old lady Stafford's. She does not take money at the door for showing them, but you pay twelve pence a piece under the denomination of card money. Wit and beauty indeed remain in the persons of Lady Townshend and Lady Caroline Fitzroy; but such is the want of taste of this age, that the former is very often forced to wrap up her wit in plain English before it can be understood; and the latter is almost as often obliged to have recourse to the same artifices to make her charms be taken notice of.
Of beauty I can tell you an admirable story : one Mrs. Comyns, an elderly gentlewoman, has lately taken a house in St. James's Street; some young gentlemen went there t'other night.• Well, Mrs. Comyns, I hope there won't be the same disturbances here that there were at your other house in Air Street.' — Lord, sir, I never had any disturbances there; mine was as quiet a house as any in the neighbourhood, and a great deal of good company came to me: it was only the ladies of quality that envied me.'-- Envied you! why, your house was pulled down about your ears.'-'0 dear, sir! don't you know how that happened !'~No; pray how? —Why, dear sir, it was my lady who gave ten guineas to the mob to demolish my house, because her ladyship fancied I got women for Colonel C- -y.'
My dear George, don't you delight in this story? If poor Harry comes back from Flanders, I intend to have infinite fun with his prudery about this añecdote, which is full as good as if it was true. I beg you will visit Mrs. Comyns when you come to town; she has infinite humour. Adieu, dear George, yours ever,
THE HON. HORACE WALPOLE TO THE RIGHT
HON. W. PITT. SIR,
Nov. 19, 1759. On my coming to town I did myself the honour of waiting on you and Lady Hester Pitt, and though I think myself extremely distinguished by your obliging note, I should be sorry to have given you the trouble of writing it, if it did not lend me a very pardonable opportunity of saying what I much wished to express, but thought my. self too private a person, and of too little consequence, to take the liberty to say. In short, sir, I was eager to congratulate you on the lustre you have thrown on this country; I wished to thank you for the security you have fixed to me of enjoying the happiness I do enjoy. You have placed England in a situation in which it never saw itself,
-a task the more difficult, as you had not to improve but to recover. In a trifling book, written two or three years ago, I said (speaking of the name in the world the most venerable to me), “ sixteen unfortunate and inglorious years, since his removal, have already written his eulogium.” It is but justice to you, sir, to add, that that period ended when your administration began. Sir, don't take this for flattery; there is nothing in your power to give that I would accept,-pay, there is nothing I
but what I believe you would scarce offer me-your glory. This may sound very vain and insolent, but consider, sir, what a monarch is a man who wants nothing; consider how he looks down on one who is only the most illustri.
ous man in Britain. But, sir, freedoms apart, insignificant as I am, probably it must be some satisfaction to a great mind like yours, to receive incense when you are sure there is no flattery blended with it: and what must any Englishman be that could give you a minute's satisfaction, and would hesitate!
Adieu, sir,-I am unambitious, I am disinterested—but I am vain. You have by your notice, uncanvassed, unexpected, and at the period when you certainly could have the least temptation to stoop down to me, flattered me in the most agreeable manner. If there could arrive a moment, when you could be nobody, and I any body, you cannot imagine how grateful I would be. In the mean time permit me to be, as I have been ever since I had the honour of knowing you, sir, your obedient humble servant,
THE HON. HORACE WALPOLE TO GEORGE
Arlington Street, November 13, 1760. Even the honeymoon of a new reign don't produce events every day. There is nothing but the common saying of addresses and kissing hands. The chief difficulty is settled; Lord George yields the mastership of the horse to Lord Huntingdon, and removes to the great wardrobe, from whence Sir Thomas Robinson was to have gone into Ellis's place, but he is saved. The city, however, have a mind to be out of humour; a paper has been fixed on the Royal Exchange, with these words, “ No petticoat government, no Scotch minister, no Lord George Sackville :” two hints totally unfounded, and the other scarce true.No petticoat ever governed less,--it is left at Leicester House ; Lord George's breeches are as little concerned ; and except Lady Susan Stuart, and Sir Harry Erskine, nothing has yet been done for any Scots. For the king himself, he seems all good nature, and wishing to satisfy every body; all his speeches are obliging. I saw him again yesterday, and was surprised to find the levee-room had lost so entirely the air of the lion's den. This sovereign don't stand in one spot, with his eyes fixed royally on the ground, and dropping bits of German news; he walks about and speaks to every body. I saw him afterwards on the throne, where he is graceful and genteel, sits with dignity, and reads his answers to addresses well: it was the Cambridge address, carried by the Duke of Newcastle in his doctor's gown, and looking like the medecin malgré lui. He had been vehemently solicitous for attendance, for fear my lord Westmoreland, who vouchsafes himself to bring the address from Oxford, should outnumber him. Lord Litchfield and several other jacobites have kissed hands : George Selwyn says, " they go to St. James's, because now there are so many Stuarts there."