per

of him on madame du Deffand's account! but you may be fectly easy on that head. Though I like such an advantage over him, and should be glad he saw this letter, and knew how little formidable I think him, I shall certainly not make an ill use of a private letter, and had much rather wave any triumph, than give a friend a moment's pain. I love to laugh at an impertinent savant, but respect learning when joined to such goodness as yours, and never confound ostentation and modesty.

I wrote to you last Thursday; and, by lady Hertford's advice, directed my letter to Nine-Wells: I hope you will receive it.

To GEORGE MONTAGU, Esq.

Strawberry-hill Dec. 12, 1766.

PRAY what are you doing?

Or reading or feeding?

Or drinking or thinking?

Or praying or playing?

Or walking or talking?

Or riding about to your neighbours?

I AM sure you are not writing, for I have not had a word from you this century; nay, nor you from me. In truth, we have had a busy month, and many grumbles of a state-quake; but the session has however ended very triumphantly for the great earl. I mean, we are adjourned for the holidays for above a month, after two divisions of one hundred and sixty-six to forty-eight, and one hundred and forty to fifty-six. The earl chaffered for the Bedfords, and who so willing as they? However, the bargain went off, and they are forced to return to George Grenville. Lord Rockingham and the Cavendishes have made a jaunt to the same quarter, but could carry only eight along with them, which swelled that little minority to fiftysix. I trust and I hope it will not rise higher in haste. Your cousin, I hear, has been two hours with the earl, but to what purpose I know not. Nugent is made lord Clare, I think to no purpose at all.

I came hither to-day for two or three days, and to empty my head. The weather is very warm and comfortable. When do

you move your tents southward? I left little news in town, except politics. That pretty young woman, lady Fortrose,' lady Harrington's eldest daughter, is at the point of death, killed, like Coventry and others, by white lead, of which nothing could break her. Lord Beauchamp3 is going to marry the second Miss Windsor. It is odd that those two ugly girls, though such great fortunes, should get the two best figures in England, him and lord Mount-Stuart.

The duke of York is erecting a theatre at his own palace, and is to play Lothario in the Fair Penitent himself. A-propos, have you seen that delightful paper composed out of scraps in the newspapers? I laughed till I cried, and literally burst out so loud, that I thought Favre, who was waiting in the next room, would conclude I was in a fit; I mean the paper' that

says,

This day his majesty will go in state

To fifteen notorious

&c. &c.

It is the newest piece of humour, except the Bath Guide, that I have seen of many years. Adieu! Do let me hear from you soon. How does brother John?

Yours ever.

Caroline, eldest daughter of William second earl of Harrington, married 7th October 1765, to Kenneth McKenzie, (grandson of William, fifth earl of Seaforth in the peerage of Scotland, who was attainted in 1715) created baron of Andeloe, viscount Fortrose and earl of Seaforth in the peerage of Ireland: honours which expired at his lordship's decease without male issue in 1781. Her ladyship died 9th February 1767, leaving an only daughter, Caroline, who married count Melford. [Ed.]

2 Caroline, eldest daughter of Charles second duke of Grafton, and wife of William second earl of Harrington. [Ed.]

3 Francis, lord Beauchamp, son of the first marquis of Hertford. His first wife, by whom he had no issue, was Alice Elizabeth, youngest daughter and co-heiress of Herbert, second viscount Windsor. This lady died in 1772, when his lordship married secondly in 1776, Isabella Anne, daughter and heiress of Charles Ingram, viscount Irvine of Scotland, by whom he had an only son, the present marquis of Hertford. [Ed.]

1 Cross-readings from the Public Advertiser, by Caleb Whitefoord. [Or.]

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.

I AM going to eat some of your venison, and dare to say it 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 Chetwynd 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.]