(^
MISS BERRY'S
JOURNALS AND CORRESPONDENCE,
VOL. I.
JLONDON
FEINTED BY SPOTTISWOODE AND CO.
NEW-STREET SQUAKB
I AH D" MISS
EXTRACTS
JOURNALS AND CORRESPONDENCE
OF
MISS BERRY
FROM THE YEAR 1783 TO 1852.
EDITED BY
LADY THEEESA LEWIS.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
LONDON :
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO
1865.
MICROFORM
PRESET ->N
s~;.
DP(
536
v.l
TO
THOSE SUEVIVING FEIENDS
WHO FORMED THE SOCIETY
AND CHEERED THE LATTER YEARS
OF
MISS BERRY'S LIFE
THIS WORK IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED
BY
THE EDITOR.
PREFACE.
THERE being no obvious reason why the editor-
ship of Miss Berry's Journals, Letters, and Papers
should have devolved on a person unconnected
with her by the ties of blood, or of long and
early intimacy, it may be satisfactory to the
reader to know that the task was undertaken
at Miss Berry's own request.
Miss Berry had bequeathed all her papers to
the late Sir Frankland Lewis. Not long before
the close of her life, she informed Lady Theresa
Lewis that she had done so, adding that, in case of
his death, and of his not having had time to deal
with these MSS., she wished her to promise to
take charge of them, and not let them pass into
any other hands. After the death of her father-
in-law, the contents of two large trunks were put
into Lady Theresa Lewis's hands.
The late Mr. Charles Greville had been named
in some testamentary paper many years before,
X PREFACE.
as one of those to whom Miss Berry wished to
have her papers transferred ; but Mr. Greville at
once declared his wish to abide by Miss Berry's
later request to the Editor. Miss Berry had
taken a very kind and flattering interest in the
'Lives from the Clarendon Gallery' (published
1852), and the Editor had reason to believe that
it was owing to her approbation of that work
(which had been read to her in MS.) that she
was thus selected.
The task of reading, of selection, and of
arrangement from such a mass of MSS. has been
somewhat laborious ; nor has it been easy, or even
possible in all cases, to identify the various persons
alluded to in so long a life. The want of any
books of reference on the Continent corresponding
to Peerages &c. cuts off the means afforded in
England of tracing out families or individuals,
when not sufficiently distinguished in public life
to claim their place in a Biographical Dictionary ;
and where no note of explanation is appended
to names mentioned throughout the work, it is
owing to the difficulty of obtaining accurate
information respecting the persons in question.
The completion of the work has been inter-
rupted and delayed by trials too painful to be
PREFACE.
obtruded on the reader, and by circumstances
over which the Editor had no control : she can
only hope that the diligence with which she has
worked through difficulties, and the pains she
has bestowed on her task, will be accepted as
evidence of her desire to do justice to the request
of her loved and respected old friend.
KENT HOUSE: May 1865.
INTRODUCTION.
Miss BEERY has more than ordinary claims to live in the
memory of those to whom she was personally known. For
an unusually lengthened period of years she formed a cen-
tre round which beauty, rank, wealth, power, fashion,
learning, and science were gathered ; merit and distinction
of every degree were blended by her hospitality in social
ease and familiar intercourse, encouraged by her kindness,
and enlivened by her presence. She was not only the
friend of literature and of literary people, but she assidu-
ously cultivated the acquaintance of intellectual excellence
in whatever form it might appear, and to the close of her
existence she maintained her interest in aU the important
affairs in life, whether social, literary, or political. Without
any remarkable talent for conversation herself, she pro-
moted conversation amongst others, and shed an air of
home-like ease over the society which met under her roof,
that will long be remembered by those who had the op-
portunity of witnessing it, and who saw the consequent
readiness and frequency with which the guests of her
unpremeditated parties availed themselves of her general
invitation.
From the age of seventeen or eighteen to that of nearly
ninety, Miss Berry and her sister Agnes (one year younger
XIV INTRODUCTION.
than herself) lived constantly in society both at home and
abroad : they had seen Marie Antoinette in all her pride
and beauty, and they lived to regret the fall of Louis-
Philippe, for whose prudence and abilities Miss Berry had
for many years conceived a high respect, and with whom
she was personally acquainted. Born in the third year after
the accession of George III., she lived to be privately pre-
sented to Queen Victoria a few months before her death.
In her early youth she gained the respect of her elders,
and was well known to have engaged the devoted
affection of one already far in the decline of life ; in her
own old age the loved and admired of the fastidious
Horace Walpole won the hearts of the grandchildren
and great-grandchildren of the friends of her youth, and
will be affectionately remembered by some who still
lingered in childhood at the time of her death.
When her own part in the active cares and duties of
life was over, she could look back upon it as on a drama
that had been played out in her sight; and from the
eventful period in which she had lived, she had seen all
the vicissitudes of war and revolution, the overthrow of
nations, the fall of ancient dynasties, the rapid rise of
new ones to supply their place, the bloodless revolutions
and great social changes in her own country, the glorious
achievements of heroes of undying fame, the bitter strifes
of political combatants hushed one after another by the
solemn call of death ; and she had seen all this with the
eyes of a most intelligent spectator. She had seen the
dawn of genius leading to lasting renown, and the wane
of power, health, and beauty generation after generation.
She had seen the Seven Ages played o'er and o'er again,
INTRODUCTION. xv
but in her own end happily escaped the dreary inanition
allotted to the last sad stage. She retained her senses, her
vigour of intellect, and even the traces of her personal
beauty, to a remarkable degree ; and on looking back
through the long vista of the life she was quitting, if she
remembered its disappointments with regret approaching
to bitterness, she also looked back upon its pleasures
with satisfaction, its affections with tenderness, its follies
with toleration, and its sufferings with sympathy. Such
were the latter days of one, who owed not the position
she occupied either to the distinction of birth or of wealth,
but to the result of personal character, of peculiar social
habits, of literary tastes and pursuits, and of a modest but
generous hospitality.
Yet, notwithstanding the pleasing impression of social
cheerfulness which Miss Berry has left, even to the very
close of her life, upon all who knew her, it is clear from
the perusal of her letters and journals that her character
was strongly tinged, from her youth upwards, with melan-
choly. In her journals she seemed to take a pleasure in
confiding, as it were to herself, all that wounded her
sensibility, oppressed her heart, or depressed her spirits ;
and in this minute analysis of her own character and
sentiments, it is easy to see that her judgment always
dealt far more severely with every failing in herself than
in others. Endowed with the strong good sense and
power of thought, more often attributed to man, she pos-
sessed a most feminine susceptibility of feeling and ner-
vous organisation of body ; her warmest affections had
been disappointed, and physical ailments were a frequent
check upon mental exertions. Her mind constantly soared
above the sphere in which it could act ; she longed to
XVI INTEODUCTION.
be useful, she longed to influence the welfare of her fellow-
creatures, she longed to be great ; she was fired with
ambition in the best sense of that term ; but there was
no career. To the merely vain woman there is in every
country a large arena for display, with its rich harvest of
triumphs chequered by mortification ; but to the ambi-
tious woman, in this country at least, there is rarely the
power of earning distinction but as a reflection of the
stronger, greater light of man. Miss Berry was amongst
the few who would have received that light, and would
have shone by it : she was fitted to be the partner of
greatness, and she missed a participation in the serious
realities of life.
The yielding, indolent character of her father inspired
neither deference, nor admiration. She was brotherless
and unmarried ; tiers was the master mind at home, but
without corresponding influence abroad. She estimated
very highly the intellectual powers of women. She felt
within herself the capability of understanding the philo-
sophy of life on which depends the conduct of human
affairs ; but, unassociated fey the ties of relationship or
marriage with men of superior mind and cultivation, she
saw, with pain, that as an isolated being, the highest posi-
tion she could attain in society was that of being consi-
dered an ' agreeable woman of the world/
But, if this consciousness of a somewhat wasted exist-
ence fostered the morbid tendency to melancholy, with
which adverse circumstances had early clouded her dis-
position, it never rendered her insensible to the value of
friendship, and her heart glowed with affection and grati-
tude towards the friends who surrounded her and who,
INTRODUCTION.
to the last, tendered her all the respect and attention
which her character and hospitality had so well earned.
The path of literary fame was still open to Miss Berry,
and that she pursued with such diligence as the claims of
society and the too frequent interruptions of ill-health
would permit. It is as an authoress that she must be
judged by the Public ; and it is as having been an autho-
ress that must rest the right of those entrusted with her
papers, to give to the Public such an insight into her feel-
ings and opinions as may tend to develope her character
and abilities without venturing too much to invade the
privacy of domestic life.
The great age to which Miss Berry lived has given
almost an historical interest to many trifling incidents in
her journals ; and changes and improvements, that steal
imperceptibly on, in manners, in morals, in refinement, in
general convenience, and in opinions, become more defined
and more interesting, when brought before the rising gene-
ration by the notes and journals of one who, born above
one hundred years ago, was so lately moving amongst the
living in the full enjoyment of every faculty. They are as
the stepping-stones that help us to remount the stream of
Time, down which we often drift too fast to mark the
ever-varying scenes which accompany our passage, or the
objects which unconsciously determine its course. Miss
Berry's own estimation of the value of the details of
private life, and of individual opinion, to those who would
study the past, is thus expressed, when comparing the
superior wealth of the French over the English in works
of that order :
So entirely (says she) do time and distance hallow and
VOL. i. a
XV111 INTRODUCTION.
render interesting minute details, that after a certain period,
history becomes more or less valuable as it presents more or
less lively pictures, not only of events, but of their effects on
the minds and manners of contemporaries.
Miss Berry's first literary effort was in assisting, or
rather in executing for her father, the work of editor to
the various MSS. left jointly to him and to his daughters by
Lord Orford. But, to the Public, she was, on that occasion,
known only by her father's allusion to the assistance she
had afforded him. The account of these MSS. and of
their editorship is thus given in the Preface to Lord
Orford's works published in five vols. 4to, in the year
1798 :
Lord Orford, so early as the year 1768, had formed the inten-
tion of printing a quarto edition of his works, to which he
purposed to add several pieces, both in prose and verse, which
he had either not before published, or never acknowledged as
his own. A first and part of a second volume, printed under
his own eye at Strawberry-hill, were already in a state of great
forwardness. . . . The friend to whom he has entrusted
the care of his posthumous works has thought proper im-
plicitly to follow the track which he found prescribed for
him. ... In the arrangement of the two last volumes,
in the notes of the letters, and in the elucidation of many
passages contained in them, the Editor has been materially
assisted by a daughter to whose retentive memory most of the
names, dates, and circumstances alluded to in the correspon-
dence were consigned by the author himself, during the course
of that intimate friendship and almost parental regard, with
which, for several years before his death, he had honoured both
her and her sister.
The reader, it is hoped, will pardon from the heart of a
father, overflowing with affection for a child, who from her
infancy to the present moment has rendered his retired life a
scene of domestic comfort, this public acknowledgment of the
assistance he has received from her on the present occasion.
INTRODUCTION.
Mr. Berry's affectionate tribute to his daughter's merits,
in this little appeal to the reader, might be very gratifying
to her filial feelings, but his acknowledgment of the
assistance she had rendered in preparing these works for
publication by no means represents the part she really
bore in the task of editorship. In a letter to an intimate
friend written in 1797, she speaks of devoting all her time
and thoughts to doing justice to the wishes and to the
literary reputation of their deceased friend Lord Orford,
but ' without/ as she says of herself, the necessary publi-
city attached to the name of editor.
In May, 1802, a comedy, in five acts, entitled 'Fash-
ionable Friends,' by Miss Berry, was brought out at Drury
Lane ; it was performed only three nights, and proved
unsuccessful. It was afterwards published by Miss Berry
in the complete edition of her works, with her own ex-
planation of the cause of its failure on the stage.
Miss Berry's next work appeared in the year 1810, and
was that of editor to the letters bequeathed to Mr. Walpole
by Madame du Deffand at her death in 1740. Marie de
Vichy Chamrond, Marquise du Deffand, was born in the
year 1697, of a noble family in the province of Burgundy.
She was married in 1718 to the Marquis du Deffand,
from whom she was afterwards separated ; in 1754 she
became totally blind, and it was, Miss Berry writes,
eleven years after this misfortune when Mr. Walpole, then near
fifty, and Madame du Deffand about seventy years of age, first
became acquainted. She had (continues Miss Berry) long passed
the first epoch in the life of a French woman, that of gallantry, and
had as long been established as a bel esprit ; and it is to be
remembered that in the anti-revolutionary world of Paris these
epochs in life were as determined, and as strictly observed, as
a2
XX INTRODUCTION.
the changes of dress on a particular day of the different seasons ;
and that a woman endeavouring to attract lovers after she had
ceased to be galante, would have been not less ridiculous than
her wearing velvet when all the rest of the world were in
demi-saison. Madame du Deffand, therefore, old and blind,
had no more idea of attracting Mr. Walpole to her as a lover,
than she had of the possibility of anyone suspecting her of
such an intention ; and indulged her lively feelings, and the
violent fancy she had taken for his conversation and character,
in every expression of admiration and attachment which she
really felt, and which she never supposed capable of misinter-
pretation. By himself, they were not misinterpreted ; but he
seems to have had ever before his eyes, a very unnecessary
dread of their being so by others : this accounts for the un-
gracious language in which he often replied to the importunities
of her anxious affection ; a language so foreign to his heart, and
so contrary to his own habits in friendship.' . . . e ln a MS.
note upon her character drawn by herself and published in this
collection, Mr. Walpole says : " Her severity to herself was not
occasional or affected modesty; . . . never having taken any studied
pains to improve herself, she imagined she was more ignorant
than many others. But the vivacity and strength of her mind,
her prodigious quickness, her conception, as just as it was clear,
her natural power of reasoning, her wit, her knowledge of the
world, her intercourse with the brightest geniuses of the age,
raised her to a level with them." Her natural quickness, indeed,
(continues Miss Berry) seems sometimes to have hit upon truths
which she had no power of detecting by thought, or of applying
by inference. She often feelingly regrets to Mr. Walpole that
she is not devout, seeing only in the practices of devotion an
occupation of time, and a defence against her dreaded enemy,
ennui, without seeming aware that nothing but fixed principles
on the subject of religion, an unshaken belief in the wisdom
and benevolence of the dispensations of a Creator, can reconcile
us in advancing years to the increased evils, and diminished
comforts, of existence. Nothing, indeed, but a perfect and
devout reliance on that Being, incapable of the changes we feel
in ourselves, and see in all around us, can produce resignation
INTKODUCT10N. xx j
to the present and hopes for the future ; the only real supports
of a protracted life.'
The task of selecting, illustrating with notes, and editing
a collection of miscellaneous letters, must always demand
much patient industry ; and the difficulty of supplying in-
formation respecting persons named was much increased
by the fact of their being mostly foreigners to whom allu-
sions are made or the letters addressed.*
Miss Berry guards herself emphatically against any
approbation of, or participation in,, the opinions and views
of Madame du Deffand ; and thus concludes her modest
Preface to this work :
The Editor "begs leave to protest against being associated
either in the principles, the opinions, the taste, the merits or the
demerits of the author of the following letters. Having exe-
cuted an humble task with care, and having obtruded as little as
possible the opinions, the principles, or the taste of an individual
unconnected with the writer, or the subject of the letters, it will
not perhaps be presumptuous in the Editor to hope, that the
public will give to them such a reception as every work seems
to obtain, which in any degree augments our insight into the
human heart, and adds some little to the mass of human know-
ledge.
* In a private letter addressed to Miss Berry, many years later, is the
following account of the Deffand collection of MSS. :
' The Deffand collection of manuscripts, consisting of : 1 folio of (Euvres
de Boufflers ; 1 do. letters from different persons j 2 do. letters from Voltaire
to Madame du Deffand ; 1 do. Journal of do. j 1 do. " divers ouvrages " of
do.; 5 large bundles of manuscript papers; 1 packet, containing several
hundred original letters from Voltaire, Kousseau, Delille, Montesquieu, De
Steel, Walpole, Renault, &c. j 7 large packets, containing 800 letters from
Madame du Deffand to Horace Walpole was sold in one lot to Dyce
Sombre for 157/.
' As Dyce is in Paris, and considered by the French Doctors as the least
insane Englishman they ever saw, you may refer Monsieur d' for
further particulars to that gentleman.'
XX11 INTRODUCTION.
Miss Berry had no reason to be disappointed in her
hopes of a favourable reception of her work, or of her
labours as editor.
In February 1811, a few months after their publication,
an article appeared in the ' Edinburgh Eeview,' containing
a very favourable notice of the manner in which she had
executed her task; and in May of the same year an
article appeared in the ' Quarterly Journal ' on the same
subject, and with no less favourable a tribute to the merit
of the then anonymous editor.
In the year 1815 Miss Berry gave to the public the
results of a work that must have been peculiarly congenial
to her taste and feelings. The original letters of Eachael
Lady Kussell, in the possession of the Duke of Devonshire,
had been placed in her hands for selection and publica-
tion. To these she added copious biographical notes, and
prefixed * Some Account of the Life of Eachael Lady
Eussell.' Of her difficulty in dealing with a subject when
there was much to feel and little to narrate, she thus
writes, with great truth :
The biographers of those who have been distinguished in the
active paths of life, who have directed the councils or fought the
battles of nations, have, perhaps, an easier task than those who
engage to satisfy the curiosity sometimes excited by persons
whose situation, circumstances, or sex, have confined them to
private life. To the biographers of public characters, the
pages of history, and the archives of the state, furnish many of
the documents required ; while those of private individuals
have to collect every particular from accidental materials, from
combining and comparing letters, and otherwise insignificant
papers, never intended to convey any part of the information
sought in them.
INTRODUCTION. Xxiii
It is impossible not to be struck, on reading Miss Berry's
account of the life of this admirable woman, how worthy
was the writer to deal with a character she could so well
appreciate.
The vein of well-grounded enthusiasm that pervades
her description of Lady Bussell's excellence of conduct and
principles of action tends to raise at once the biographer
and her subject. She makes no bombastic eulogy of
dazzling qualities, or assumption of manly virtues for her
heroine, but she is proud of her as a Christian, proud of
her as a woman, proud of her as a fellow-countrywoman,
proud of her because her fortitude was piety, her courage
the strength of her love, and her dignity her never-failing
simplicity.
In the year 1828 Miss Berry brought out the first
volume of her most considerable work, entitled ' A Com-
parative View of Social Life in England and France, from
the Eestoration of Charles II. to the Present Time.' The
second volume followed three years later, and both
volumes were republished in the complete edition of her
printed works, which appeared in the year 1844. Miss
Berry thus describes in her Preface the objects proposed
in her c Comparative View ':
Some considerations (says she) are here offered, on the changes
which have taken place, and the fluctuations observable in the
two countries, which, for above a century, may be said to have
divided between them the social world of Europe.'
And again, she tells her readers
That individual characters are sometimes brought forward, as
the best authority for the sentiments and conduct of the period
to which they belong ; and sketches are sometimes given of the
XXIV INTRODUCTION.
biography of such as have been distinguished in social life,
although little noticed in history.
She disclaims ' great political speculations ' and ' finan-
cial details/ and says ' that nothing is attempted but a re-
view of " Social Life " and manners, from materials open
to every one as well as to the Author.'
The Introduction consists of an outline sketch of the
influence of public events on the manners in both countries
from the time of James I. to the Eestoration of Charles II. ;
she reviews the circumstances which had tended to pro-
duce ' an entire alienation ' between France and England
during the twenty years preceding the Eestoration ; the
narrowing influence in our insular position of foreign
travel being abandoned; the ignorance and prejudices that
followed from this want of communication with other
states ; and the evils that resulted from the sudden reaction
of an unusually close connection, on the return of Charles
II., between the courts of France and England.
The Eestoration (as Miss Berry observes) sent home num-
bers, of whom some had been educated and others spent the
youngest and gayest years of their life in France. They had
necessarily adopted much of her manners, and habits and
amusements. Those they found established in their own country
were certainly not likely to have superseded them, even if the
enthusiasm of the moment had not been thrown into the scale
in their favour. But such was the spring which the public mind
had received from the removal of the forced and unnatural
pressure of the sectaries upon every unaffected feeling and in-
nocent amusement, that the nation started at once from prim-
ness into profligacy, and from sobriety to excess. The serious
manners and moral habits of England were derided at Court
as fanatical, and stigmatised in the country as disloyal.' *
* Vol. i. p. 34.
INTRODUCTION. xxv
The work itself of the ' Comparative View' begins with
the Eestoration of Charles II. in 1660, and ends with the
elevation of the Duke of Orleans to the throne of France
in 1830.
Writers on historical subjects are often in danger of
running into one of two very opposite extremes in their
style of narration : they may be influenced, on one hand,
by the dread of not being understood, from the ignorance
of their readers ; and, on the other, by the fear of
becoming tedious, in relating at too great length what is
generally known. In the desire to explain every thing,
the important facts are liable to be so overlaid with
details, as to lose their just and fitting prominence, whilst
the wish to avoid prolixity and an undue reliance on the
knowledge of their readers, may tend to deprive an
historical composition of such accessories as are necessary
to give substance and life to the events and characters of
which they treat. Neither history nor biography can be
recorded with the fulness of the daily press or the
minuteness of a diary, but it will fail to be effective if
written with a succinctness better suited to the index of a
book or to the headings of chapters.
It is to be regretted that Miss Berry fell into the
error of too great condensation in a work which would
have been more impressive and more instructive by
greater amplification. Her ' Comparative View ' is marked
by the sound judgment and good sense which are the
growth of attentive reading, keen observation, and social
experience. There is neither picture-writing, nor party-
writing; no hero-worship, no degraded life held up
to admiration ; no character drawn with striking and
XXVI INTRODUCTION.
impossible combinations, making a sort of living antithesis ;
but, throughout her work, may be traced a calm and
philosophic anatomy of cause and effect in human affairs,
accompanied with great toleration for the influence of
external circumstances, on- the conduct and character of
those she describes, together with the highest appreciation
of those principles of truth, virtue, and justice, without
which government serves only as a means to secure the
personal indulgence of those in power, and to become an
instrument of oppression to those who must submit. But
the length of time, the variety of subjects, the number of
distinguished persons and remarkable events included, are
crowded into too small a space to give sufficient weight
and interest to the various parts which make up this
moving panorama of the past. The mind requires more
time to become acquainted with the foreground figures
of the landscape, more familiarity with the scenes in which
they are placed. Miss Berry wrote so well what she did
write, that one cannot but wish she had written more.
She has, however, exhibited a gallery of portraits, not all
strictly historical, but all illustrative of the times in which
the originals lived. They are painted with more or less
of finish and detail, and even the slighter sketches are
made with a careful adherence to truth, and thus help to
people the periods described with those who breathed a
social atmosphere very different to our own, and whose
manners and conduct were moulded by habits and
opinions of which the living generations have no personal
experience.
Nor is it only by the introduction of remarkable persons
that Miss Berry endeavours to bring before her readers the
INTRODUCTION.
comparative view of social life in England and France ;
the standard of public and domestic morals, the style of
education, the progress of literature, the cultivation of the
arts, the taste for the Drama and dramatic writings in both
countries, with many other subjects, are passed in review.
The Drama in all its varied forms was a subject on which
Miss Berry took a lively interest ; and after glancing at
the days of Masques and Pageants, Eclogues, Pastoral
Cantatas, &c., she gives in some detail the rise and pro-
gress of the ' Opera, or drama entirely in music/
In 1660, on the occasion of the fetes for the marriage
of Louis XIV., the ' Ercole amanti ' was given, with a
French translation of the Italian poetry ; and in the year
1652 an Abbe Perrin obtained letters patent for the estab-
lishment of an ' academie des operas en langue frangoise.'
Other operas followed, to which French words were
adapted, and it became an established amusement at Paris.*
It was in the reign of William and Mary (says Miss Berry),
that the Italian Opera was introduced into England.
' Several distinguished singers having visited this country
during the reigns of Charles and James, a taste had been
acquired for Italian music ; it was now to be established
in a theatre exclusively dedicated to it, and patronised by
the nobility and the good company of London, as a less
exceptional entertainment than the National Theatre.'
Miss Berry then quotes a passage from 'Chetwoode's
General History of the Stage,' descriptive of the mode in
which the performance was carried on.
Mrs. Tofts, a mere Englishwoman, in the part of Camilla,
courted hy Nicolini, an Italian, without understanding a
* Vol. i. p. 141. t Ibid- PP 208-9.
XXV111 INTRODUCTION.
syllable each other said ; Mrs. Tofts chanting her recitative
in English in answer to his Italian ; and on the other hand,
Valentini courting amorously in the same language a Dutch-
woman, who could neither speak English nor Italian, and com-
mitting murder on our good old English, with as little under-
standing as a parrot.
Miss Berry gives an excellent dissertation on Tragedy
and Comedy, too long for extraction, but showing how
much and how well she had thought on the two great
branches of dramatic composition.
As Miss Berry approaches the time when her own re-
collections give additional life to her ' Comparative View,'
the interest is increased in her observations and opinions ;
and a passage on the emigration of the best blood of
France at the beginning of the French Eevolution, is
written with the vividness and warmth of having seen
and felt, as well as reasoned on, the events that took place
in the days of her youth.
How (says she) can all the illustrious names boasting of twelve
centuries of uncontaminated blood and of distinguished actions,
how can they excuse their dispersion at the beginning of the
Eevolution ? . . . They fled leaving their King in the midst
of an enraged capital and a discontented country ; they fled to
strangers for that assistance which they felt they could not hope
for from their own dependants. Had not the great territorial
proprietors known that many of them were as obnoxious (and
much more justly so) to their own vassals than their poor deserted
King was to the populace of Paris, they would have gone down to
their estates, and spread themselves over the provinces. . . .
Instead of abandoning at such a moment their irritated and mis-
guided country, had they possessed either energy or conduct,
they would have reclaimed or perished with her.* . . . The
* Vol. i. pp. 266, 267,
,
INTRODUCTION. xx i x
wiser democratical leaders, aware of the consequences of emi-
gration, secretly encouraged it, and whilst they declaimed from
the Tribune of the National Assembly against evaders, took
care to leave all doors open to facilitate escape. . . . Kegi-
ments were encouraged to revolt that their commanding officers
might fancy it necessary to leave them ; and by this means the
ruling party got rid of persons ill-disposed towards them, and
found in the subaltern and non-commissioned officers zealous
friends to the new arrangements. . . . While the King was
thus abandoned, the country was left to be torn in pieces durino-
ten years, by the most bloody and despicable demagogues that
were ever let loose on a people, deprived of all their natural
counsellors and defenders, and forced to struggle out of anarchy
through all the horrors of popular convulsions. The inevitable
consequences, the natural death entailed by such convulsions,
were the military despotism which so long extended its iron
arm over that rich and highly favoured country, which her
nobles deserted, instead of defending, and irritated instead of
guiding.
The author is here speaking (Miss Berry continues) of emigra-
tion as a political measure of the day, and ventures to attribute
it to what it is believed all thinking minds will allow to have
been at once its cause and its excuse to the general degraded
state of moral feeling under institutions which the natural
quickness of the nation had long outrun. To which must be
added the administration of a series of weak ministers acting
under, or rather /or, the two dissipated and profligate princes
(the Regent and Louis XV ) who, in succeeding to Louis XIV.,
succeeded to all the unpopularity which the disorder of the
finances, entailed by the passing glory of his reign, necessarily
devolved on his successors. The spectacle of a great nation
shaking off chains it had so long worn, and reclaiming rights of
which it had been so long deprived, soon attracted the eyes, and
interested the feelings, of all Europe in its success : that
success it was itself entirely unprepared either to bear, or to
profit by. Its wits and its philosophers had undermined every
prop, both of its throne and its altars, without having conde-
scended to form any plan for a new construction, or even to
have any foresight of what was likely to arise from the ruins
XXX INTRODUCTION.
they had made. Few of their number had had opportunities
of occupying themselves in any practical details of reform, and
the whole bulk of the nation, educated for centuries in the
habits of despotism, had no standard to recur to, by which
to measure either their rights, their expectations, or their
demands.
In our great dispute with our monarch, a century before, we
reclaimed rights acknowledged by repeated charters, confirmed
by successive sovereigns, never infringed without remonstrance,
and seldom without a further security for their future observance.
But the intoxication of France, on her first successes, in a cause
so new, was immediately followed by a general fever of mind,
a mental epidemic, accompanied by symptoms of delirium at
once horrible and ridiculous. From a centre of infection so
potent the disease soon spread itself nationally and individually
over the greater part of Europe, marking its progress by schemes
of impossible reform, complaints of irremediable evils, visions
of perfection incompatible with human nature, a dereliction of
real and experienced benefits for untried and impossible im-
provements; a general discontent with the existing order of
things, and violent aspirations after an imagined and visionary
future.' *
Miss Berry's speculations as to the possible consequences
to the state of France had other countries abstained from
interfering, and her account of the effects she saw wrought
by the excesses in France on the opinions of political
parties in England, have to the present generation the
value of a direct tradition from an eye-witness. Many
a treatise may be found more elaborately worked on the
causes of the frightful tragedy which disgraced the close
of the eighteenth century ; there may be ingenious pallia-
tions of its wanton cruelties set 'forth, or eloquent denun-
ciations hurled at its unprovoked atrocities, and many
* Vol. i. pp. 269-72.
INTRODUCTION.
profound and philosophic reflections may be founded on
the consideration of the various written histories of that
period ; but there is always a peculiar interest attached
to the opinions expressed and facts related by a contem-
porary witness. What Miss Berry thinks and says is from
what she heard and saw, and what she knew or believed
she knew, at the time ; and it always adds life and fresh-
ness to a narrative, when the narrator can say of the
past, ' 1 remember?
It is curious to observe how little the institutions, the
social habits, and political views of England were under-
stood in France, even when most admired, at the beginning
of the French Eevolution.
They looked up to the English (says Miss Berry) as their
preceptors in politics, treated their prejudices and their pecu-
liarities with indulgence, and seemed only desirous of proving to
them that they had outstripped their masters both in the theory
and practice of civil liberty.*
It would have been difficult for England to trace the
lessons drawn from her instructions in the wild alter-
nations of terrorism and license displayed during the
successive governments of the French Eevolution. It
was the policy of Napoleon ' to put the English name and
nation out of fashion ; ' f but his ignorance respecting
everything relating to England would seem incredible, had
it not been fully shared by those whose opportunities of
better information had been so much greater than his own.
The intellect of Buonaparte (says Miss Berry) on commercial
subjects, and on all great views of political economy, was
remarkably deficient. And she was assured by one of the most
* Vol. ii. p. 36.
XXX11 INTRODUCTION.
enlightened persons employed by him in these matters, and his
devoted admirer (M. Rederer), that he had great difficulty to
make him comprehend even the axioms which lay on the
surface of these subjects.*
He thought to depreciate a commercial nation by calling
it a ' nation boutiquiere ; ' and,
provoked (says Miss Berry) at the unbending spirit of
England against the continued aggression of his all-devouring
ambition, .... he succeeded in representing the English
Government as a vile despotic oligarchy, uniting all the pride and
all the prejudices of the old system of legitimacy and heredi-
tary honours, with all the meanness and all the self-interest
ascribed to commercial habits. Writers f were sent to England
to misstate our institutions, and to misconstrue our laws ; and
the daily publications were full of sanctioned falsehoods, some-
times emanating from the pen of the master himself, whose
style was always recognisable. J
The vanity that sprang from his successes made Napo-
leon believe that, in case of his invasion of England, he
would be met with powerful and enthusiastic support,
and his total misapprehension of our institutions led him,
when gathering information as to the spirit in which he
might hope to be received, to attach the highest impor-
tance to obtaining some knowledge as to the feelings with
which such an enterprise would be regarded by different
classes in England, and above all by the Lord Mayor and
the aldermen ! ! He could little have appreciated the
unity of sentiment inspired in England by his threatening
and aggressive policy, which is thus described by Miss
Berry :
* Vol. ii. p. 15. f Fiev<?e, and many others. } Vol. ii. pp. 40-1.
The Editor was told this fact from undoubted authority.
INTRODUCTION. XXxiii
In spite of public and private catastrophes in spite of
severe privations, severely felt by every order of the state,
a dejected or despairing spirit was unknown. The measures of
ministers were severely canvassed, and often warmly opposed,
in the councils of Parliament ; but whenever the submission of
other nations, or any circumstances connected with it, seemed
to threaten our own national independence, one mind and one
will, rose against the yoke that had been imposed on continental
Europe ; all difference of party disappeared.*
But if in Napoleon this somewhat laughable ignorance
of his neighbours might have resulted . from that active
military career to which, from his earliest youth, he had
devoted his whole time with such brilliant success, and
from his having never visited the country he wished to
undervalue, and affected to despise, what can be said of
the noblesse of the old regime who took refuge on our
shores, who lived amongst us from the time of their emi-
gration till the Eestoration in 1814 who abstained from
learning our language, or endeavouring to comprehend
our government and institutions, or to understand our
national character, but who lived in the atmosphere of
their prejudices, their resentments, and their recollections
of past privileges ; of whom it was said with respect to
their own country qu'ils n'avaient rien appris et rien
oublie,' and of whom it might have been equally assumed
that they had allowed no new ideas derived from a new
country, and new circumstances, to disturb the state of
mind in which they arrived in England and again de-
parted for France ?
In alluding to the difficulties of the restored Bourbons
in amalgamating the discordant elements out of which
* Vol. ii. p. 34.
VOL. I. b
XXXIV INTRODUCTION.
was to be formed a representative government to ad-
minister their new chartered rights, Miss Berry thus
describes
the old inveterate upholders of all the prejudices and pre-
tensions of their own age, martyrs to ideas which found no
longer any sympathy, and sufferers from causes known by
none but themselves ; resting the whole pretensions of a great
body of insignificant but of inveterately obstinate people on the
faithful and devoted attachment of a part of their order to
the fallen and desperate fortunes of their sovereign and his
family claiming remuneration for losses which (for the most
part) their own errors had incurred, and which the country
regarded with a jealous eye.*
No sooner was peace established (says Miss Berry) than
England poured forth her islanders, impatient of their con-
finement. . . . Many arrived (at Paris) with ideas of
intimate friendship contracted with French individuals in emi-
gration, by whom they conceived they were to be received
with such grateful remembrance of the past, as would lead to
a renewal of former intimacy, and to much enjoyment in
their society. . . . All those who remembered France in
the moment of Anglo-mania which immediately preceded the
Revolution, fancied that they should still find some remains of
good- will to the country which she had then looked to as her
model, and some respect for those who had so long preceded
her in the enjoyment of civil liberty. All our men of science
were eager to make acquaintance and seek the society of those
distinguished by similar pursuits in France. ... In these
expectations every one was more or less disappointed.
The remembrances of emigration could not be agreeable, and
consequently the debts of friendship were in general paid as
succinctly and with as little trouble as possible, without any
renewal of great intimacy. Those old enough to remember the
opinions in France of England before the Revolution, heard
with astonishment all the vulgar prejudices against the consti-
tution of her laws, and her public principles, which had been
* Vol. ii. p. 88.
IXTKODUCTION. xxxv
propagated by Bonaparte, repeated not only by those of his
fallen party, but by the returned Koyalists and the professed
Constitutionalists *
Notwithstanding these discouraging facts, Miss Berry
never abandoned her cherished hope of an intimate
alliance between France and England: she felt, to use
her own words,
that the combined will of two such countries, the immense
influence of such a mass of intellectual superiority, joined to
such imposing political force, must and ought to dictate to
Europe ; to constitute the intellectual soul of an enlightened
world ; to be improved by their science^ to be enriched by their
discoveries, and to be advanced by their example in all the
great principles of civil liberty and social happiness, f
Miss Berry concluded the second volume of her work
in June 1830; but the events of the following month at
Paris gave rise to another most interesting chapter :
Having been present (says she) at the marvellous events
which lately took place in the political existence of France,
the author feels it impossible not to notice so remarkable a
passage in the civil history of mankind, and so striking a
change in the character and conduct of the nation where it
&
took place.
A king of France reigning in undisturbed splendour and
unquestioned authority on Sunday, July 25, and on Sunday,
August 1, in one little week, the same being having become a
fugitive, without power and without rights, hardly allowed to
remain two days longer in the disturbed and uncertain occupa-
tion of the most distant of his palaces ; these events seem
more like the necromantic catastrophe of an Eastern tale, than
facts actually taking place in the most regularly organised
European government.!
Miss Berry had been familiar in her youth with accounts
of the passing horrors of the first Eevolution ; and she was
* Vol. ii. pp. 93-5. f Vol. ii. p. 119. t Vol. ii. chap. vii. p. 121.
b2
XXX VI INTRODUCTION.
forcibly struck by the comparative moderation and hu-
manity that was exhibited in that of the year 1830. The
more liberal institutions, of fifteen years' duration, had
done much to improve and humanise the people. The
fierce spirit of vengeance and retaliation which, in the
first Eevolution, had pervaded the feelings and prompted
the movements of the lower against the upper classes, did
not disgrace on this occasion the struggle for more assured
liberty ; and from this improvement in the national dispo-
sition, together with the personal character of the sagacious
prince then called upon to fill the vacant throne, Miss
Berry's constant hope was strengthened that the intimate
relations between the two countries might be the more
and more confirmed.
A world of events have passed in the thirty-four years
succeeding that in which Miss Berry closed her ' Com-
parative View of Social Life in England and France,' and
much advance has been made towards that better under-
standing that better appreciation of the characteristics
and attainments of each other. Time and space have
been changed by the scientific application of steam and
of electricity to the purposes of communication : the two
countries are brought nearer together, the intercourse is
constant and rapid, the combinations in commercial enter-
prise and financial speculations numerous, and a close
approximation of the middle class of both nations has
naturally followed. Twice in London, and once in Paris,
have all the products of nature, art, and industry been
exhibited in friendly rivalry ; and commercial restrictions
which, under the name of protection, fettered and impeded
trade, have been removed. Our armies have fought side
INTRODUCTION. XXXvii
by side ; our diplomatists have negotiated with similar
objects in view ; the sovereigns of each country have
exchanged visits not only of state, but of private friendship.
We have welcomed in the chosen Emperor of the French,
the exile who sought a refuge in England, who has never
forgotten on the throne those with whom he here asso-
ciated on friendly terms, and who, on a memorable occa-
sion, bore his part as one who was ready to give his aid
in defending those laws of peace and order which every
English gentleman showed a determination to maintain.
We are proud to possess as residents those illustrious
members of the late reigning family in France who,
excluded from a return to their native country, have
chosen England for their sojourn; and more especially of
that Prince of the House of Orleans who, suddenly cut
short in the double career of military glory and civil
government,* in which he served the country that still
retains his unfading loyalty and affection, now turns with
frank cordiality to associate himself on every fitting
occasion, whether charitable, literary, agricultural, or
social, to promote the comfort, the improvement, or the
amusement of those with whom he has cast his lot.
Yet neither the courtesies of the highest, nor the good-
will that arises between nations when the laws of ' demand
and supply ' are permitted to effect a friendly dependence
on each other, nor even the results of rapid means of
communication, will prove of sufficient force to remove
the barriers of old prejudices long raised between the two
* M. de Tocqueville, no mean judge in such matters, conceived from per-
sonal observation the highest opinion of the Due d'Aumale's abilities in
the administration of his government in Algeria.
XXXVlli INTKODUCTIOK
countries. Much has been done in thirty-four years, but
more remains to do. The once-received axiom, that
England and France were ' natural enemies/ has passed
away; but neither country has yet reached the more
Christian-like doctrine of love between neighbours. There
are differences in forms of government, differences in re-
ligion, differences in habits and character, which will
always dispose each nation to view from a somewhat dif-
ferent point the passing events of the world : but that
which keeps us most asunder that which prevents a just
appreciation of the motives, the feelings, the thoughts of
each other that which most causes misjudgment, wounded
susceptibility, and resentments, and denies to each the
softening influence of personal communication, is the
reciprocal ignorance of each other's language. It is a very
limited number in England who really speak French with
tolerable ease. Amongst the upper and best-educated
classes there is generally some effort made 'fey parents to
give that advantage to their daughters, but rarely to their
sons ; the system of our public schools giving no facility to
the acquirement of even that one modern language which is
more or less a passport throughout Europe. Some few for-
tunate youths may occasionally profit by the opportunities
given to their sisters, and acquire in their infancy a little
knowledge of French, and may afterwards have the energy
to improve that advantage ; but these are only rare and
exceptional cases as compared with the mass of educated
persons. The acquirement of French forms no part of the
instruction which an English gentleman necessarily re-
ceives at our public schools or universities. In France,
the knowledge of the English language and of English
INTRODUCTION. XXXIX
literature is still more rarely cultivated. There is not
much social intercourse between even the highest and most
educated classes of France and England ; and this difficulty
as to the medium of communication is a constant check to
acquaintance or intimacy. Literary and scientific men, even
when accustomed to reading French, are often withheld
from attempting conversation by conscious defects of pro-
nunciation or want of fluency in expression : and so much
practical inconvenience arises from this ignorance of each
other's language when joint action is to be carried on in
the services of war, that the choice of persons employed
is narrowed by the question, not of the fittest man, but of
the man who can make himself understood by those with
whom he has to act. Some improvement in this great
defect on English education may follow, it is believed, the
long and patient enquiries, and subsequent report, of a
Commission which concluded its labours last spring, and
that the teaching of French will become compulsory in
all our great seminaries of learning : nor is it unreasonable
to hope that the dawning knowledge of English will be
cultivated in return throughout France. It is impossible
to overrate the value and importance of increased facility
in direct verbal communication, in effecting those better
relations between the two leading countries of Europe, so
much to be desired, and so warmly advocated by the
author of the ' Comparative View of Social Life in Eng-
land and France.'
Miss Berry's ' Advertisement to the Letters addressed
by Lord Orford to the Miss Berrys ' (first published in
Bentley's Chronological Edition of Lord Orford's Letters)
xl INTRODUCTION.
is included in this last edition of her works, and is dated
October 1840. It is a defence of Lord Orford, whose
character had been roughly handled in an article in the
' Edinburgh Eeview,' reviewing Lord Dover's edition of
the first part of Horace Walpole's Correspondence with
Sir Horace Mann. Miss Berry considered, to use her own
words, ' that an unjust impression had been given, not
only of the genius and talents, but of the heart and
character, of Lord Orford.' She was quite aware that
in endeavouring to rescue the memory of an old and
beloved friend from the ' giant grasp ' of his critic, it
was with no other than Lord Macaulay that she had to
contend : but, though she unflinchingly combated his
estimate of Lord Orford's character and feelings with the
knowledge of facts 6 acquired in long intimacy,' it was not
without a graceful expression of regret at differing from,
or calling in question, the opinions of a person for whom,
as she says, she felt ' all the admiration and respect due to
supereminent abilities, and all the grateful pride and
affectionate regard inspired by personal friendship.'
In January 1831, a nominal review of Miss Berry's
work on Social Life appeared in the ' Edinburgh Eeview.'
The substance of the article was taken from her book
without acknowledgment or marks of quotation, and given
to the public without any allusion to the work itself as an
original essay on the subject.
In the ' Quarterly Eeview ' of March 1845, there is a
careful analysis and very favourable notice of Miss Berry's
complete works as published in 1844. It contains so just
a tribute to the characteristic merits of both the author
and her works, that a few passages from this article will,
INTRODUCTION. X H
it is hoped, be considered a fitting conclusion to these
prefatory pages.
We rejoice in the publication of this excellent and useful
essay, as the avowed production of Miss Berry, because the
value of its original remarks upon the society of both countries,
in which she has so long moved as a member at once admired
and beloved, is greatly increased by the value of her name
a name never to be pronounced without the respect due to
talents, learning, and virtue. We place in the front of our
criticism that which all rightly-constituted minds must regard as
the highest panegyric that she who has experienced and enjoyed
the pleasures of fashionable as well as literary intercourse more
and longer than any living author, has passed through both the
frivolities and the corruptions of times in Paris as well as in
London without a shadow of a taint either to her heart, her
feelings, or her principles. The historian of society in her own
as well as in former periods, the fond admirer of genius
whatever form it assumed, and the partaker with a keen relish
of all the enjoyments which the intercourse of polished life
affords, she has never shut her eyes for a moment to either the
follies that degraded or the vices that disfigured the scene, nor
has ever feared to let her pen, while it described for our admi-
ration the fair side of things, hold up also the reverse to our
reprobation or our contempt.
a
JOURNAL
CORRESPONDENCE OF MISS BERRY.
NOTES OF EARLY LIFE.
MY FATHER was the maternal nephew of an old Scotch
merchant of the name of Ferguson, who had been sent
for up from Scotland by a near relation of his, long
established in ' London, on a promise to provide for him :
this he did so completely, that before the middle of my
uncle's life he found himself in possession of something
near 300, GOO/., a great fortune for those days, for the
said uncle had come up to London in the year of the
Union, 1709. He might now have left the City for ever ;
but so attached was he to the habits and habitations
of the counting-house, that not even his marriage, and
his having purchased a considerable estate in Fifeshire,
could persuade him to remove to the West-end of the
town, or to abandon Austin Friars,* where he lived for
more than half a century, and till his death. He had
married a Miss Townshend, the sister of the wife of
Mr. Oswald,-}- a neighbour of his in Scotland, who was
* Broad Street. The House of the Augustine Friars was founded by
Humphrey Bohun, Earl of Hereford and Essex, in the year 1243.
t Mr. Oswald married Elizabeth, daughter of Townshend, of Hon-
ington Hall, Warwickshire, 1747. Mr. Oswald was for many years in Par-
liament, and filled the offices of Commissioner of Navy, Lord of Trade and
Plantations, Lord of the Treasury, and Treasurer of Ireland. He died in
1766.
VOL. I. *B
2 MISS BERRY'S NOTES. [1762
in Parliament, and employed in several public offices
during the Administrations of 1753 and 1754.
There being no children from Mr. Ferguson's marriage,
his sister's sons became his natural heirs. Of these, my
father being the eldest, was, like all elder brothers of
those days, bred to the law, with or without any intention
of following the profession. After my father had left
college, and gone through the routine of this education,
he obtained his uncle's leave to travel ; but he had only
spent seven months in the Netherlands before he was
recalled by his uncle, who, I conclude, ensured obedience
to his orders by stopping the supplies. The law he seems
never to have thought of more, nor was it thought
necessary he should. But in all other respects I can
easily suppose his careless disposition, even to his own
situation, his turn towards literature and literary society,
little suited the hard narrow mind of the man on whom
his fortunes depended.
My father's marriage, in 1762, with a distant relation
of his own, of the ancient name of Seton, the daughter
of a widow then living in Yorkshire, with a family of four
daughters, did not serve his interests with his uncle. My
mother is said to have had every qualification, beside
beauty, that could charm, captivate, or attach, and excuse
a want of fortune. At first she succeeded in captivating
the good graces of the old man, but not to induce him to
augment the allowance he made to his nephew. On this
allowance they retired to live in Yorkshire, in the same
house with her mother at Kirkbridge, where she gave
birth in two succeeding years to two daughters, myself
and Agnes. But however well pleased the old uncle
might have been with his niece, his expectations were
disappointed at her not producing a male heir, and were
finally crushed by her death in childbirth. I have been
told that his uncle was very importunate with my father
to marry again directly. If so, I am sure my father must
17C9] HER FATHER. 3
have finally destroyed his prospects from him, by the
manner in which he would have received such a proposal
immediately after the untimely death of a beloved wife of
twenty-three, after four years' marriage.
In the meantime, his younger brother William, a sharp
lad, who had obtained a good report from the mercantile
house in which he had been placed to qualify him for
business, was employed by his uncle in looking into his
accounts in Scotland during his absence in London. He
soon perceived the carelessness of his elder brother's
character, and how little it fell in, in any respect, with
that of the old man, and how easily he could assimilate
himself to all his views. He thus continued to gain every
day on his confidence, and secured his goodwill by marry-
ing a daughter of the house of Crawford, with 5,000/., a
handsome female fortune in those days, especially in
Scotland : Fortune too favoured him in the birth of two
sons in the first two years of their marriage.
1769. Prom this time his uncle seems to have con-
sidered him decidedly as his heir, established him in the
house in Fifeshire, and made him direct everything about
his estate and affairs in Scotland ; while quietly letting my
poor father continue to starve on an allowance of 30 O/.
a-year, he made him understand that his intentions as to
his heir were entirely altered, and that he had been sup-
planted by his younger brother. That my father should
have allowed himself to be thus choused out of a great
inheritance, by a brother who had not a sentiment or feel-
ing in common with himself, and by an uncle whom he
had never offended, and in whose society he continued to
spend three days of every week, while his brother was
living in ease, indulgence, and luxury at Kaith, and only
making a yearly visit of a couple of months to the
melancholy residence of Austin Friars, that the easy
temper of my father should have silently acquiesced in
all this ; that he should not have seen the character, and
B 2
4 MISS BERRY'S NOTES. [1764
obviated the conduct, of his brother before it was too
late, during all the youth and middle of my life sorely
afflicted me. Every expense of education in the acquire-
ment of talents was denied us, and much of the gaiety
and all the thoughtlessness of youth were lost in the
continual complaints I heard, and the difficulties I saw in
getting through the year on the wretched pittance allowed
us, and which my father's disinheritance (now known to
everybody) prevented his attempting any scheme to mend :
thus, seeming not to feel for himself, he was allowed to
sink into the state of a disinherited man, without any of
the pity such a state generally inspires. When I grew
to an age to look about me on the affairs of the world, and
the situation of my own family, I saw the lamentable one
in which my father's easy inefficient character had placed
himself and his children. While yet a mere child, I had
already suffered in spirits and gaiety from the melan-
choly difficulties and little privations -of every sort, which
his very narrow income entailed on us, and which so en-
gaged his mind as to make him inattentive to its effects
upon us.
1763. I was born on the 16th of March, at Kirk-
bridge, a lone house situated immediately without the pre-
cincts of the Park of Stanwick, then inhabited by Hugh
Earl Percy, son of the first Smithson, Duke of Northum-
berland, and his first wife, the daughter of Lord Bute
(the Minister), from whom he was afterwards divorced.*
1764. My sister Agnes was born on the 29th of May
this year, at the same place, which was the residence of
my grandmother Seton and her three unmarried daughters,
Isabella, Jane, and Mary, with whom my father and
mother resided during the first two years of their mar-
* Earl Percy first married, in July 1664, Lady Anne Stuart, third
daughter of John, Earl of Bute, by whom he had no issue j they separated
in 1769 ; and in 1779 he obtained a divorce, on account of her intimacy
with Mr. William Bird. Lord Percy afterwards married Miss Frances
Julia Burrell, sister to Lord Gwydyr, by whom he had a numerous family.
1767 ] HER MOTHER. 5
riage. I have no further recollection of Kirkbridge,
except that sixty years afterwards, when going to see
Stanwick, I had a recollection of the ornaments of the
room in which I had sat in somebody's lap at breakfast,
and of the disposition of the staircase which led to it. I
have no further recollection of anything till when my
mother died of a milk fever (1767), giving birth to another
girl, who died at the same time. Of my mother I have
only the idea of having seen a tall, thin young woman in
a pea-green gown, seated in a chair, seeming unwell, from
whom I was sent away to play elsewhere. Of the exces-
sive grief of my father and grandmother at her death I
have no recollection ; I think I must have been kept away
from them. Of my own irreparable loss I had certainly
then no idea, and never acquired a just one till some
years after, when my father told us that my mother, on
hearing some one say to her that I was a fine child, and
that they hoped I should be handsome, said, that all she
prayed to Heaven for her child was, that it might receive
a vigorous understanding. This prayer of a mother of
eighteen, for her first-born, a daughter, struck me when I
first heard it, and has impressed on my mind ever since
all I must have lost in such a parent.
From her death, however, dates the first feeling of un-
kindness and neglect which entered into my young mind,
accustomed to nothing but the fondness of everybody
about me. The first wife of that Lord Percy who lived
at Stanwick had become, from her near neighbourhood
to Kirkbridge, very intimate and very much attached to
my mother. Lady Percy was in London at the time of my
mother's death, but, on her return to the North, had stopped
in York to see and to weep with my grandmother, who from
my mother's death had taken the care of her two children.
I have even now the clear and distinct idea of a ^ lady in
a riding habit, sitting leaning on a chair drowned in tears,
and on my running up to her and calling her by her
6 MISS BERRY'S NOTES. [1768-70
name, pushing me away from her, and avoiding looking
at me, instead of taking me on her lap as I expected.
The feelings of sorrow, of surprise, and mortification
were the very first of that long series of wounds to a
very affectionate heart, which everybody has to undergo
in life, and which nothing subsequent has blotted from
my memory.
1768, 1769. Of the years '68 and '69 I remember
nothing, but that there we remained living at Askham,
and that we had a sort of Bonne, governess, Miss Porter,
who walked with us, and taught me to read I sup-
pose ; but as I have no remembrance at all of the pro-
cess nor of existence without the power of reading, I can
say nothing of the talents of my teacher. Agnes was
slower than myself at her book, and I have some faint
idea of tribulation over the spelling-book with her. Our
only playfellow was Mary Garforth, the youngest sister of
Mr. Garforth, the Squire of the parish, whose mother,
during her son's minority, lived at the Mansion House,
which was within a stone's throw of the house in which
we resided.
1770. In the spring of this year we removed from
Askham to Chiswick. My father, I fancy, had begun to
think (too late) that he ought to pay more attention and
to court the favour of the uncle to whom, during his
education as an advocate and before his marriage, he was
considered as the certain heir. At Chiswick we inhabited
the College House on the river-side, so called from belong-
ing to the Dean and Chapter of Westminster as a retreat
for boys on the foundation, whenever the plague was in
London. In the intervals it was let unfurnished at a
small rent, with two large enclosed gardens belonging to
it.* It was this, I conclude, principally recommended it
* It is not known that the school was ever removed to Chiswick since
Busby's time. It is on record that he resided here, with some of his
scholars, in 1657. A few years ago, when this house was in the tenure of
1770J HER EARLY LIFE AXD EDUCATION. 7
to my father, who was then living on the wretched 300/
a-year allowed him by his uncle. Here, we had I
believe, soon after our arrival, a new governess inste-
of Miss Porter-a Miss Bourchier, a lively ol^
young woman, with little more information than the
former one, but having been a little more in some sort of
world She was intelligent and lively in society, and
made herself agreeable, without any bad intention (for
she was engaged to marry a stock-broker as soon as ever
their funds aUowed them), to all the few men, old or
young, coming to the house ; and I remember the anguish
we both felt, when, in 1775, my father first announced
that she was going to leave us and to be married.
I was then only twelve years old, my sister only eleven.
My extreme precocity, both mental and physical, helped
to lead him to suppose that the expense of another
governess might be spared, and we were thus left, almost
children, to our own devices to be as idle, and to read
what books, and choose what other employments we
pleased : with me it led to much serious evil ; with Agnes,
to obliging her much later in life to acquire such know-
ledge as she should have had given her without pains in
early youth. To neither of us had the least religious
education been at all thought of. It was in the middle of
the age of Voltaire, and his doctrines and his wit had
been adopted by all the soi-disant Scotch wits. My dear
grandmother, indeed, aware of this neglect, made me
read the Psalms and chapters to her every morning ; but,
as neither explanation nor comment was made upon
them, nor was their history followed up in any way, I
hated the duty and escaped it when I could. The same
consequence took place by the same dear parent making
me read every Sunday to her a Saturday paper in the
Bobert Berry, Esq., the names of the celebrated Earl of Halifax, John
Dryden, and many others, were to be seen upon the walls. History and
Antiquities of Chiswick, fyc., by Thos. Faulkner.
8 MISS BEERY'S NOTES. [1774
6 Spectator/ which, till the middle of life, prevented my
ever looking at those exquisite essays, or being aware of
the beauties of the volumes they were in.
The year after we came to settle at Chiswick, my aunts
Cayley* and Lynnot returned to England from Italy,
where they had passed two or three years in search of
health for Mr. Cayley, and the means of living during the
lifetime of his father Sir George Cayley. f The accounts
my young ears heard from them of the beauties and
charms of Italy, first impressed on my mind the strong
desire of seeing what they described, and which certainly,
in after-life, fell not short of my youthful expectations,
and figure as the greenest spots in my long monotonous
and insignificant existence.
In 1773, while our governess was yet with us, my
grandmother, who had lived with us ever since my
mother's death, went to Ireland for six months to visit
her daughter Lynnot, who, had been married to an Irish
squire while with her sister in Italy.
In 1774, my grandmother took us to visit at Mr.
Loveday's, at Caversham near Eeading, an old Tory
country gentleman, who had married a cousin of hers,
and had two daughters much about our age : with them
we formed an intimacy which lasted till their death thirty
or forty years afterwards. The intimacy gave me occasion
to learn in several visits to them afterwards, and when I
was able to observe it, the character of Tory country
gentlemen of those days, or rather of days before, and the
sample I saw was certainly a rare and most respectable
* Isabella, daughter of John Seton, Esq., married, 1763, to Thomas Cay-
ley, Esq. ; died 1828, leaving one son [afterwards Sir George] Cayley, and
four daughters :
Elizabeth, married to Benjamin Blackden, Esq., of West Wycomb, Phila-
delphia ; Sarah, married to Barry Slater, M.D. ; Isabella, to Launcelot
Shadwell, Esq. ; Anne, married to the Eev. George Wordey.
t Sir George Cayley, Bart., died at the age of eighty-four, in 1791 j and
was succeeded by his eldest son, Sir Thomas, born 1732, died 1792.
1775-81] LEGACY LEFT TO HER FATHER. 9
one. He saw much of all the clergymen in his nei^hbour-
hood. At dinner, the first toast was always Church and
King ; the second, To the flourishing of the two Univer-
sities ; ^ the third, To Magdalen, or as he called it,
Maudlin College, where he had been educated. But he
was, with all this, an elegant and accomplished scholar,
and was delighted at finding me apt at recalling to his
mind passages of the Eoman poets.
Of the few succeeding years the entries in Miss Berry's notes
of her early life are unfortunately very meagre.
In 1775, she states, as the only event, the loss of their
governess.
1776. We went in the summer with my father to
Lyrnington.
1777. My grandmother, Agnes, and I went to York-
shire to Lady Cayley, and did not return till the middle
of winter.
1778. We went to visit Mr. Michellin Berkshire, and
the Lovedays.
1779. I became acquainted with Mr. Bowman. Suf-
fered as people do at sixteen from a passion which, wisely
disapproved of, I resisted and dropped.
1780. The Catholic riots in London.
1781. I went into Yorkshire with Miss Drury, an old
friend of my mother's on a visit to her ; when at last, at
the age of ninety-three, our old uncle died, before my
return in November. This absence I have ever regretted, as
I should certainly have endeavoured to back up my father
in these difficult and mortifying circumstances. The brother
William was left all; was residuary legatee, inherited
above 300,00(M. in, the funds, together with an estate of
some 4,OOOJ. or 5,000/. a-year in Scotland. To my father
a bare legacy of 10,000/., with no mention at all of his two
children ; so that if my father's had been a lapse legacy by
his death before the uncle, we must have been left to the
parish, or to the tender mercies of his brother. There
10 MISS BERRY'S NOTES. [l781
was another will written before the death of niy mother,
which was never produced ; and I own that I have never
been able to conquer my suspicions that ah 1 was not fairly
arranged by the lawyers towards my poor father, who
stood before them at the reading of the will, to receive
what they pleased to give him, and to be asked by the
principal executor (of whom he knew nothing), when
he announced to him the 10,000^, if he thought it too
much /
For many years afterwards I never could figure to my-
self this scene without my blood boiling in my veins, and
lamenting that I had not been present to support and
reply for my father. To this 10,000/. was added no per-
sonals of any kind, nor plate, nor linen, nor china, nor
anything left in the old man's house in London, to help to
set him up in greater comfort he, that had so long been
starving on 300/. a-year ! My uncle knew that his bro-
ther would not complain, and he treated him accordingly.
But he was aware that he could not treat the opinion of
the world of that world whose opinion he valued as
he had the feelings of his brother, and therefore he im-
mediately announced that he meant to settle on him an
annuity of 1,0 00. a-year, with no mention made of his
two daughters, who, he concluded, would marry, and
be thus got rid of.
This arranged, he immediately returned to Scotland to
take legal possession of a residence which he had already
long enjoyed, and to get rid of the society of a brother in
whose presence he could not but feel awkward, in whose
tastes he did not at all participate, and to whom he there-
fore never proposed a visit to Scotland. This we, from our
ignorance of the world, had supposed he certainly would ;
but I must do his conscience the justice to say he always
avoided as much as he could his brother's society, and
felt embarrassed in his company. But from my father's
carelessness of disposition he had nothing to fear, while
1781 ~ 3 1 TOUR OF HOLLAND.
11
on the other side, his children had nothing to hope or de-
pend on, for he was quite as little careful about our future
prospects and success as he could ever have been about
his own.
1781. I was now eighteen, and began to long to see
that world of which I had been picking up all sorts of ac-
counts from much desultory and often improper reading.
1782. The first fruit of our enlarged income was spent
in a tour to the West of England as far as Plymouth, and
we went in July for some weeks' residence at Weymouth.
1783. I persuaded my father to give up the house at
Chiswick, which we had hitherto inhabited ; and after a
month or two spent in a lodging in Charles Street, Gros-
venor Square (now an hotel), to go abroad. This had long
been the first object of my wishes; and it was therefore
settled that my grandmother, who had hitherto always
lived with us since my mother's death, should be received
by her daughter, Lady Cayley, now a widow, during our
tour abroad.
In May 1783, we went from Harwich to Eotterdam,
where a branch of the Crauford family, into which my
uncle had married, had been always established, and
where two unmarried sisters, but little older than our-
selves, were now spending the summer with their brother.
They received and lodged us on our arrival at Eotterdam
in their house on the beautiful terrace shaded with great
trees, which forms the principal street in that town. With
them we remained about three weeks, and made with
them an almost complete tour of Holland ; and certainly
during my very long after-life I have always looked back
to those three weeks as the most enjoyable and most
enjoyed of my existence, in which I received the greatest
number of new ideas, and felt my mind, rny understand-
ing, and my judgment increasing every day, while at the
same time my imagination was delighted with the charm
of novelty in everything I saw or heard.
12 MISS BERRY'S NOTES. [1733
From Holland we went by the banks of the Ehine to
Switzerland, to Lausanne, where a family of Cerjats, Swiss
by birth and English by marriage and connection, to
whom we had been particularly recommended, took a
sort of protecting care of us. In the month of October
we took the Geneva road to Italy. At Florence was our
first stop ; and here for the first time I began to feel my
situation, and how entirely dependent I was on my own
resources for my conduct, respectability, and success. My
father, with the odd inherent easiness of his character,
had since my mother's death entirely abandoned the
world and all his early acquaintance in it, entirely for-
getting that on him now depended the success and the
happiness of his two motherless daughters. I soon found
that I had to lead those who ought to have led me ; that I
must be a protecting mother, instead of a gay companion,
to my sister ; and to my father a guide and monitor,
instead of finding in him a tutor and protector. Strongly
impressed as I was that honour, truth, and virtue were
the only roads to happiness, and that the love and consi-
deration of my fellow-creatures, and the society in which
I was about to live, depended entirely on my own con-
duct and exertions, the whole powers of my mind were
devoted to doing always what I thought right and knew
would be safe, without a consideration of what I knew
would be agreeable, while I had at the same time the
most lively sense of everything that was brilliant and
distinguished, and the greatest desire to distinguish my-
self. Add to this the most painfully quick feelings, and a
necessity for the support of some kind sympathising mind,
and it is easy to imagine not only how little I could profit
by all the advantages nature had given me, but how little
I could have enjoyed of the thoughtless gaiety and light-
heartedness of youth.
Here end Miss Berry's Notes of her early life, written when
far advanced in years, but to which no date is affixed. In the
1848-9] AT FLOEEXCE. 13
two successive years of 1848-9, she added the following melan-
choly entries. It is much to be regretted that her intentions
were not fulfilled of continuing the precis of her life she had
begun.
1848. I had intended and hoped to carry on this sort
of short-hand account of my life and the few enjoyments
and severe sufferings of my middle age, which hung about
me longer than anybody, for I was past sixty before I was
allowed by anybody but myself to consider myself as old.
But within this last twelvemonth I have found all the
weaknesses of age so fast increasing that I have little
hope of being able to fulfil my intention.
1849. Yet, as here I am still, and in spite of the
regular progress of old age on all my senses, still possess-
ing my intellect, understanding, and memory, as far as
regards long-passed events, I will still endeavour, in such
hours as are yet left me of capacity for writing, to recall,
in a very succinct manner, the many years I have left far
behind. I must for this return to the date of 1783 no
less than sixty-six years ago. In the autumn of 1783, then,
we found ourselves at Florence, where Sir Horace Mann*
was still our Minister, and where LordCowper,f the grand-
father of the present lord,J had taken up his abode for
several years, had there married a very handsome English
woman of the name of Gore, had in every respect a very
* Horace Mann was the second son of Kobert Mann, Esq., of Linton,
Co. Kent. In 1740 he was appointed Minister Plenipotentiary from his
own court to that of Tuscany. In 1775 he was made a baronet, and after-
wards a KB. It was in 1740 that Horace Walpole visited Florence; and
between him and Horace Mann there commenced a friendship which was
maintained, by frequent correspondence only, during a period of
. Memoirs of Horace Walpole and his Contemporaries, by Eliot \\ ar-
eorw Nassau, third Earl Cowper, born 26th of August, 1738 ; mar-
ried 31st of May 1778, Anne, daughter of Francis Gore, Esq., of
ampton. He was created a Count of the Holy Roman Empire, January 1778;
ob. 1789.
' J Great-grandfather of the present Earl Cowper.
She died 1826.
14 MISS BERRY'S NOTES. [1349
handsome establishment, by which all the good company
travelling in Italy were anxious to be admitted. We were
received most graciously by a letter I brought to Miss
Gore, Lady Cowper's sister, who was then living with her.
Thus ends the last entry of these Notes.
Miss Berry's earliest Journal was that, written during her first
tour on the Continent, to which she alludes in the preceding
Notes with so much pleasure. This Journal, begun at the age of
twenty, shows how early the tastes of her after-life were exhibited.
It is impossible not to be struck with the choice of subjects to
which she turned her attention, and with the intelligence and
tone of decision that marks her observations on all she saw;
and though the total absence of all apparent consciousness
of personal admiration shown towards herself and her sister, and
the scrupulous omission of light gossip and frivolous remarks on
the characters and circumstances of those with whom she asso-
ciated, may make the journal of a young lady in the year '83
less amusing to read eighty-two years later, it cannot fail to raise
the respect of the reader for one who, with not even the average
advantage in the training and cultivation of her mind and
tastes, felt such pure enjoyment in the beauties of nature and
such absorbing interest in the works of art. In estimating the
value of her opinions on all she viewed in architecture, sculp-
ture, and painting, it must be remembered that Miss Berry
wrote without the help of those invaluable works, the modern
handbooks, to form her judgment or to guide her taste. She
was travelling with those from whom she did not derive instruc-
tion, but whom she was more accustomed to lead ; and that her
opinions, whether agreeing or not with the popular criticisms of
the present day, have the merit of being the genuine impression
which such works produced on a young fresh mind of superior
intelligence and of genuine enthusiasm.
The Editor is aware that Miss Berry's Journal in full, of her
first visit to Italy, would be liable to the objection of savouring
too much of the guide-book, or catalogue of sights and pictures,
to be interesting to the general reader : but, considering the
many changes that revolutions, wars, and treaties make in the
destination of treasures in art, it seemed on the whole desira-
ble to preserve extracts at least of this authentic record of the
1849] MISS BERRY'S LOVE OF NATURE AND ART. 15
locality and condition of different works eighty years ago, for the
benefit of those who take an interest in such subjects.
For works of art, and for the beauties of nature, Miss Berry
had a keen perception, but for that which we term picturesque-
ness in buildings she was evidently without any appreciation.
So unobservant was she, indeed, of the picturesque effects that
arise from those irregular outlines of varied and grotesque forms
that would fill the modern artist's portfolio with the richest sub-
jects for his art, that the doubt naturally arises whether, at this
time, the sense of the picturesque, as now understood, was yet
developed. The particular disposition or combination of objects
in nature, or the appearance of grandeur, of unity of design, or
of architectural decorations in works of construction, were re-
cognised subjects of admiration, but that sense of picturesque
beauty which springs from certain combinations of form and
colour, and which imparts a charm and gives a value to the
poorest tenement, was probably unknown and unacknowledged
till a more recent period. Miss Berry could see no beauty in a
town in which neatness, cleanliness, and regularity were not the
prevailing features, or that could not boast the still higher
merits of well-built houses and well-paved spacious streets, run-
ning at right angles to each other ; characteristics so seldom to
be found, that it was not surprising Miss Berry should often
have been most unfavourably impressed with the appearance of
continental towns.
16 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [irss
JOUKNAL.
1783.
Tuesday, May 26th. Set out from Charles Street at
four o'clock ; slept at the Blue Posts at Witham.
Wednesday, 27th. Arrived at Harwich at four o'clock ;
sailed on board the Prince of Wales packet-boat, Capt.
JSTasson, at eight at night.
Thursday, 28th. All day at sea with a very brisk gale ;
monstrously sick ; came to an anchor at the mouth of
the harbour at Helveot at ten o'clock at night.
Friday, 29th. Came on shore to the Golden Lion at
Helveot between three and four in the morning ; break-
fasted at six with some of our fellow-travellers ; at eight,
went on board a yacht sent by Mr. Crauford to convey
us to Eotterdam. These yachts are elegantly fitted up
with every convenience for eating, drinking, and sleeping,
and are often hired by Dutch families for several weeks
together on parties of pleasure. The passage from Helveot
to Eotterdam is commonly made in four or five hours,
but there being little or no wind, and the tide being
against us, we were from eight in the morning till nine at
night in the yacht, and were at last obliged to get into a
little rowing boat, in which we arrived at Mr. Crauford's
house at Eotterdam between ten and eleven o'clock, not a
little delighted to find ourselves again on terra firrna and
in company of our friends.
Saturday, 30th. Spent the day in visiting the principal
buildings and streets of Eotterdam, which must strike all
strangers with its appearance of great bustle, cheerfulness,
and most remarkable cleanliness. The canals are broad
with rows of trees on each side, and generally full of
1783] PROM ROTTERDAM TO ANTWERP. 1?
vessels of all sizes, which are enabled to come up to the
very doors of the merchants' and traders' houses The
canals are crossed by drawbridges, of which there are
commonly more than one in every street, and which gives
them such a look of similarity that it was with difficulty I
could distinguish one street from another.
Sunday, 31rf. Went to the English Episcopal Church
It is a neat but perfectly plain building, and is in general
very ill attended in the forenoon.
Monday, June Is*. Dined at the Orangie Eoom, a
house of entertainment about a mile and a half from
Eotterdam ; the dinner (given by Mr. Crauford), a most
elegant French and Dutch one of eight courses and a
dessert, as a specimen of Dutch cookery.
Thursday, 19$. Left Eotterdam and our friends, with
much regret, at seven o'clock in the evening ; sent our
carriage to meet us at Meer Dyck ; crossed the Maese
ourselves from the new works to the Toll Huys in a
sailing boat in about ten minutes; slept at the Toll
Huys.
Friday, 20$. Left the Toll Huys at about five o'clock
in the morning in a phaeton ; arrived at the passage of
Meer Dyck about eight ; crossed in a sailing boat in half
an hour ; breakfasted at a little ale-house, from whence
we took six horses to convey our coach to Antwerp, and
were notwithstanding eleven hours in coming thirty-nine
miles, on account of the very deep sandy roads, most part
of the way over a great black dreary heath, till within about
a league and a half of Antwerp, where we came upon a
broad pavee, with a row of trees on each side and througli
a rich enclosed corn country. Our equipage at leaving
Meer Dyck (being the first of the kind I had ever seen)
amused me not a little. Our six long-tailed black horses
were fastened together with very long rope traces, the
leading pair mounted by one of the tallest men I ever
saw, in a long blue coat, trowsers, and a pipe in his
VOL. i.
18 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [l783
mouth, with much more of the respectable air of a
skipper than of a postilion. The other four were driven
in hand by a man sitting upon the fore trunk, accoutred
exactly in the same manner not excepting the pipe, which
they never failed stopping to light every two or three
miles. Arrived at the Hotel de Bruxelles at Antwerp at
eight o'clock at night.
Saturday, 21st. Saw the Church and Abbey of St.
Michel, or rather the abbot's apartments, for no other
part of it are ladies permitted to see. In the cabi-
net is a Dead Christ by Vandyck, which struck me more
forcibly than any picture I had ever seen. The squalid
and cadaverous appearance of the body is wonderful and
affecting. It is three quarters, supported in the arms of
his mother, with another head (I suppose of St. John)
weeping over it. The collection of M. le Chanoine
Knyff consists of three large rooms, entirely covered from
the floor to the ceiling with valuable pictures of the Dutch
and Flemish schools.
Sunday, 22nd. Spent the whole day in visiting various
churches enriched with the noble works of Eubens and
Yandyck, and the collection of Mr. Van Lanckwex, in
which were several pleasing pictures, but I believe more
copies than originals. Almost every gentleman's house in
Antwerp and its neighbourhood has a collection of pictures ;
nay, almost every little auberge has its walls covered with
vile imitations and copies of the Flemish school, which
shows how general the profession and love of painting has
been, nay, even still is. Our valet de louage was by no
means a bad judge of the beauties and merits of pictures,
so much is the taste improved by having constantly
before one's eyes the works of great masters.
Monday, 23rd. Breakfasted at Malines. Arrived at
the Hotel de Belle Vue, at Bruxelles. The road between
Bruxelles and Antwerp is a fine pavee, planted with rows
of trees, and through the richest and most uniformly cul
1783] FROM ANTWERP TO BRUXELLES. 19
tivated country I ever saw ; the villages and farm-hous,
had all a great air of comfort, and the country in ~
has nothing to distinguish it from any of the rich! con
countries in England. Within three miles of KnC
by the side of the canal, the road becomes parSS
beautiful; fine rising ground on all sides, well wooded
and adorned with several fine country-houses. Indeed, all
the environs of Bruxelles on every side deserve this cha-
racter The lower part of the town itself is up and down hill,
built, and irregular ; but the new buildings on the upper
part are at once gay and magnificent, especially the Place
Eoyale the street that leads to it, and the buildings round
But I must observe, from all I saw, the new
houses are not very judiciously disposed of within,nor is the
finishing by any means equal to their outward appearance.
Went in the evening to the Theatre des Enfants, a new-
built circular theatre in that part of the Park called
YauxhaU. The performers are children under fourteen
or fifteen years of age, and some of them not more
than six or seven. We saw a very droll petite piece, and
afterwards a tragedy in pantomime, both admirably well
acted.
Tuesday ^th. At shops all the morning, of which
there are excellent ones of all sorts at Bruxelles. In the
evening at the Grand Theatre. Much like our Opera
House in London, but the painting and decorations very
dirty and shabby, and the house very dark, as the lights
are almost all within the boxes, and never lighted but
when the box is occupied.
Wednesday, 2bth. Went to see the country-house
now building for the Archduke Albert,* the Governor of
* The Prince Albert of Saxe-Teschen and the Archduchess Maria Christina
were at this time joint Governors- general of the Austrian Netherlands. At
the early outburst of rebellion they attempted to temporise : the Emperor
disapproved their measures, and recalled them to Vienna. Lardners
Cyclopcedia.
c 2
20 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1733
Bruxelles, about a mile and a half out of the town. It is
a large handsome building commanding fine views. The
lawn and grounds are all laid out entirely in the English
taste.
Thursday, 26th. Went to the play, the ' Femmes Sa-
vantes' of Moliere. Very well acted, particularly the parts
of Trissotin and the Grecian. Indeed, if I may be allowed to
judge from the little I have yet seen of foreign theatres,
one is never shocked with either a very awkward or a
very absurd representation of any part. The very confi-
dantes and gentlemen-ushers perform their offices decently,
and the chief parts have always been supported in a style
of mediocrity, which, if it did not captivate, would never
disgrace or shock.
Friday, 2 7 th. Left Bruxelles. Breakfasted at Louvain ;
from thence by Tirlemont and St. Thron to Liege, where
we did not arrive till ten o'clock at night, owing to an
accident happening to our wheel.
Saturday, 28th. Walked about the streets of Liege,
which is one of the dirtiest, ugliest, worst-built towns I
ever saw. The very palace of the Prince Bishop * has not
the least air of cleanliness or propriety about it ; the
streets are crowded with beggars, exhibiting every pos-
sible form of wretchedness, and everything bears the
appearance of poverty, vice, and misery. Indeed, the
many instances of profligacy observable in the city under
the government and the residence of a bishop, shocks and
surprises one. Every priest openly keeps a mistress, and
the principal bookseller's shop was filled with nothing
but libertine and profligate tales and novels. Left Liege
at two o'clock. The road to Aix very romantic,
but the worst I ever travelled, so narrow as only
just to admit the coach, and always very high on one
* Liege remained under the dominion of its bishops down to the time of
the French invasion, 1794. Vide Murray's Handbook.
17S3J FROM DUSSELDORF TO COLOGNE. 21
side and low on the other, so that we seemed every
moment oversetting. Arrived at Aix about eleven at
Sunday 29&-Left Aix ; came by Juliers (a wretched
old walled town, guarded by some as wretched-looking
troops) to Dusseldorf, the residence of the Elector-Palatine
crossed the Ehine about two miles before Dusseldorf, not
less (I think) than half a mile over.
Monday, 3(M. The town of Dusseldorf is ill built,
poor, and without manufactures, but is distinguished and
much visited for its magnificent cabinet of pictures in the
Electoral Palace.* They fill five large rooms, one of
which, called the Salle de Eubens, is entirely occupied by
the works of that great master : the largest canvass he
ever drew (The Last Judgment) is among them. The
Elector, who began this collection, got it from a church
of the Jesuits. The other four rooms are filled with
noble examples of the Dutch, Flemish, and Eoman
schools. To see a collection of this sort as it deserves,
one should not attempt to comprehend it all at once, but
return day after day to its various beauties. To see it, as
we did, in two or three hours, surprises and fatigues the
mind more than it can be properly said either to entertain
or improve it. The rest of the apartments of the palace
have, I fancy, nothing to boast of, for they are not shown,
and their outward appearance is not very prepossessing ;
they are, however, undergoing a considerable repair.
Left Dusseldorf at two o'clock ; crossed the Ehine again
three miles from the town (as broad as the Thames at
Greenwich) in a large vessel, or rather raft fixed upon
two boats, and swung over by the rapidity of the
stream. Arrived at Cologne at 8 P.M. Cologne is a
* One wing alone remains of the palace built by the Elector John
William. The main edifice was destroyed by the bombardment of the
French in 1794. It formerly contained a famous collection of pictures.
Murray's Handbook.
22 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL.
remarkably ill-paved town, but seems to have some
business going on in it.* Vessels of some burthen are
drawn up thus far on the Ehine by horses ; further the
rapidity of the stream renders it impossible, for it may be
truly said of this noble river
Facilis descensus . . .
Sed revocare gradum, . . .
Hoc opus, hie labor est.
Tuesday, July 1st. Arrived at Bonn ; the road the
whole way along the banks of the Ehine, which here
begin to lose the flat appearance they had about Dussel-
dorf. Went to see the palace of the Elector of Cologne,
who resides here.f It is almost the greatest extent of
building, and assuredly the very largest palace I ever
saw, and is just as unfit for the Elector of Cologne as
the small house 'of Windsor is for the King of Great
Britain ; it is divided into long suites of apartments, one
of which, together with a tennis court, were entirely dis-
mantled by a fire about seven years ago, and are now
repairing ; but of the other suites, some apartments are
furnished with much clumsy old-fashioned magnificence,
and some hardly furnished at all. There is a picture gallery,
200 feet long, filled with vile daubings of a number of
reigning princes ; a music room, 100 feet long, and a
complete theatre, in which German plays are acted three
times a week, at the Elector's expense.
Left Bonn at three o'clock ; arrived at Andernach, a
little village on the banks of the Ehine, about ten. Bonn
is surrounded by vineyards, and the road from thence to
* It is evident, from Miss Berry's making no mention of the Cathedral at
Cologne, that it was not in those days regarded as one of the most indis-
pensable, as well as one of the most beautiful sights in a tour on the
Khine. ED.
f The Electors of Cologne removed their court from Cologne to Bonn as
early as 1268. The palace now contains the university (established by the
King of Prussia in 1818), lecture-room, library, academical hall, and museum
of Rhenish antiquities. Murray's Handbook.
1783 1 COBLEXTZ. 23
Eemagen, and from Eemagen to Andernach, is most
beautiful and romantic ; the whole way entirely upon the
banks of the Ehine, which rise into mountains on each
side covered almost to the top with vineyards, diversified
every here and there with wood, and very often crowned
with the ruins of an old castle, or rather beacon, for one
should hardly think castles could have been at any time
of use in such situations. For some miles before Ander-
nach the road seemed to have been cut out of the rock,
which rose almost perpendicularly on our right hand, and
every here and there adorned with little crucifixes' and
Jesu-Marias placed in hollows in the rock, some painted
and curiously dressed up for their reception. Between
Bonn and Eemagen, a convent of nuns, beautifully situated
on an island in the Ehine.
Wednesday, 2nd. Breakfasted at Coblentz, the road
hilly and bad. Coblentz is large, but ill built ; it is the
residence of the Elector of Treves, whose palace is most
romantically situated opposite the town, on the other side
of the Ehine, and immediately under a very high hill, or
rather rock, the top of which is covered by a large for-
tress or castle, and barracks for soldiers. Nothing can
be more romantic than the palace when viewed from Cob-
lentz, the rock covered mostly by shrub-wood and crowned
by the castle,* with its batteries jutting out one beneath
another. Left Coblentz, crossed the Ehine : the road from
thence to Montabaur is through a most beautiful wood
and corn country, but the road so bad that we were five
hours going eleven miles.
From Montabaur to Limbourg the same pretty country,
and the same tedious travelling.
Limbourg is a large wretched village, enclosed within
walls : it contains eight or ten thousand inhabitants, has
no sort of manufacture, and every appearance of poverty
* The original castle of the Elector of Treves, built 1558, is now con-
verted into a manufactory. Murray's Handbook.
24 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [irss
and idleness ; the people, too, had the most untidy appear-
ance of any I have yet seen in Germany.
Thursday r , 3 re?. Breakfasted at Wiergis ; between
Limbourg and Wiergis passed the famous spring of Selt-
zer ; it belongs to the Elector of Treves, and is guarded by
some of his troops, for the country people are only allowed
to take the water away in broken cruches, that they may
not sell or export it. The Elector has a paltry house and
garden close by the spring. The dexterity of the people
in filling, waxing, and corking the cruches amused me.
From Limbourg to Koningstein and Frankfort, the road
throughout the worst imaginable ; but, let me add,
through the most beautiful country.
Frankfort is a large populous, busy town, but not in
general well built, though there are some good houses in
it ; they are mostly painted on the outside some of the
older ones very whimsically with festoons, pots of flowers,
and various devices. The Maison Eouge, the inn we
were at, is I believe the largest in Europe ; the present
landlord pulled down the old house and built this, round
the three sides of a long square ; it contains ninety-two
apartments, besides accommodation for servants, and great
cellars under the whole building, in which the landlord,
who is likewise a wine merchant, has 200 tonneaux of
hock, each tonneau contains eight ohens.
Friday, kill. I saw the church in which the emperor
is crowned King of the Eomans. It is the plainest and
the worst-paved Eoman Catholic church I have yet been
in : in one of the altars the glory round our Saviour was
expressed by yellow glass in the window behind, which I
thought had an excellent effect. Left Frankfort ; slept at
Gerau, a small neat village belonging to the Prince of
Hesse ; the road from Frankfort very sandy ; half the way
through a fine enclosed forest, or deer park, of the Prince
of Hesse. Saw a very large wild boar, which, walking
1783] MAXHEIM. 25
peaceably in his native woods, is by no means the fierce-
looking animal he is represented by Snyders.
Saturday, 5^. Crossed the Ehine ; breakfasted at
Worms ; dined at Manheim, the capital of the Elector-
Palatine's dominions. It is by far the prettiest town I
have seen in Germany ; all the streets are broad and at
right angles, and all the houses white. When I said the
palace at Bonn was the largest I had ever seen, I had not
been at Manheim.* The palace here is I think little less
than Greenwich Hospital ; it has an air of grandeur from its
immense extent of front and the large court before it ; but
no architectural beauty, nor is it built according to any of
the Grecian orders, but is merely a body and wings, con-
taining long ranges of windows, adorned with fancy stone
ornaments. It contains, besides the apartments for accom-
modation, a suite of nine rooms filled with pictures ; a
tenth with drawings and the collection of prints ; three
with a cabinet of natural history ; an opera house ; a
gallery of antiquities ; a tennis court ; a noble library ;
and a chapel.
The cabinet of natural history is prettily arranged : it
seemed to contain fine specimens of ores, crystals, and
spars, and some very good shells. The library is a mag-
nificent and gay-looking room, 100 feet long, 50 broad,
and 36 high, with three rows of galleries around it, and
contains 80,000 volumes, and a very pretty painted ceil-
ing by a young German who had studied at Dusseldorf.
Having seen the cabinet at Dusseldorf, I confess I expected
little from that at Manheim, supposing that the master c
the former could not have much more to boast of in the
way of pictures ; but I was mistaken : for though the
finest pieces of Eubens and of the Italian school are at
* The palace was erected by the Elector Palatine, Karl Philip, when he
L court from Heidelber, and made
26 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [irss
Dusseldorf, there are in every one of the nine rooms at
Manheim several very interesting pictures, and a fine col-
lection of the Dutch school. Two heads in particular of
an old man and an old woman, as large as life, by Denner,
of Hamburgh, so minutely and so accurately finished, that
the nearer one applied a magnifying glass to them the
more one was tempted to believe them alive. The Elec-
toral troops at Manheirn, the best-looking and best-dressed
I have seen in Germany. In spite of all the magnificence
of Manheim and the pictures of Dusseldorf, the Elector
slights them both, and lives almost entirely at Munich,
another Electoral town, where the librarian told us he had
still a larger collection of books than at Manheim. The
Electress spends the winter at Manheim and the summer
at a country-house about a league from thence. The ap-
proach on every side is by beautiful avenues of Italian
poplars, and the road from Gerau excellent. Slept at
Spires : the aisle of the church there one of the loftiest
I have seen.
Sunday r , 6th. Arrived at Strasbourg, a large, populous,
busy, ill-built town. The front of the cathedral church is
one of the most highly finished and beautiful, in the Gothic
style. The spire too is beautiful, but loses some of its effect
by the church or rather belfry coming up too high against
it, and making it appear not high enough for the rest of
the building. Saw the monument to the memory of
Marechal Saxe in the Lutheran church of St. Thomas.
The design is interesting and the effect excellent. The
expression in the figure of France is particularly happy ;
but the sculpture and execution, though done at the ex-
pense of the king and by one of the first artists in France,
struck me as by no means equal to that of many of our
capital ones in Westminster Abbey. I could not help ob-
serving with pleasure, that among the emblems of the
different nations with whom he fought and conquered,
while the German Eagle is overthrown and the Eussian
1783] FROM STRASBOURG TO GENEVA. 27
Bear sprawling on the ground, the British Lion is only
turning sulkily away. The road from Spires to Stras-
bourg like the finest turnpike in England, the third stage
entirely through one great and beautiful forest of oak,
beech, birch, and irs ; observed strawberries, raspberries,
gooseberries, and barberries, all growing in it.
Monday, 7th. Slept at Neuve Brisac, built by Louis
XIV. At the Peace of Eyswick the possession of Alsace
was confirmed to him ; he destroyed the fortifications of
old Brisac, a German town exactly opposite on the other
side of the Ehine, and built this. It is a fortification of
Vauban's, is surrounded by four fosses, and has every
appearance of great strength. The streets are neat, all
tire a cordeau, and there is a large square in the middle
of the town, which consists entirely of such houses as one
can suppose brought together to supply the want of a
number of soldiers. The garrison at present consists of
1,200 men, including a regiment of cavalry.
Tuesday, 8th. Arrived at Basle ; the streets much up
and down hill, but most romantically situated on the
banks of the Khine.
Wednesday, $th. Left Basle with a voiturier, who
agreed to cany us to Lausanne in three days and a half,
with four horses for the coach and one for the servant, for
ten louis.
Saturday, 12th. Arrived between nine and ten at
night at Lausanne. The country the whole way most
romantically beautiful, and the weather most intolerably
hot.
Sunday, August IQth. Left Lausanne; passed through
Merges, EoUe, and Nyon, and arrived at Geneva. The
road from Lausanne to Geneva great part of the way
upon the very edge of the lake. Morges is a fine open
broad street, the prettiest town I have seen in the Pays de
Yaud. The streets of Geneva are narrow and not well
built, but the whole town has the greatest appearance of
28 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1733
business and population, and being Sunday evening, we
saw crowds of people of all sorts both in the streets and
upon the ramparts, which are one of their public walks,
bordered with a row of trees.
Monday, l~Lth. Left Geneva; baited the horses at
Bonneville, a poor town upon the banks of the Arve, sur-
rounded by Alps. Dined upon plums and bread and
butter, not liking to attempt anything else at such an inn,
the dirtiest and only bad one I have yet seen. The stair-
case was of rough and broken stones, perfectly dark, with
a door half-way up it into the stable, where, indeed, the
horses seemed to be better lodged than then: masters ;
the bare walls of the room where we sat were covered
with splashes of dirt of all sorts and colours ; the floor had
surely never felt water since the time of its being laid,
and had the accumulated dirt of years upon it ; and the
beds, ' where dingy yellow strove with dirty red,' were
quite of a piece with the room : it was, indeed, only a
comfortable habitation for vermin, which abounded in
numbers. The road from Bonneville to Sallenches beau-
tifully wild, winding along the valley of the Arve, in some
places so narrow as only to admit the river and a narrow
road for a carriage, walled in on each side by immense
mountains, cultivated almost higher up than one could
suppose them accessible, and their craggy tops fringed with
firs ; from the winding of the valley the mountains seem
in many places entirely to shut up the end. Baited the
horses at Cluse, a larger town than one could expect to
find in the midst of mountains, and apparently swarming
with inhabitants. The appearance of a postchaise and two
ladies in strange dresses drew all the people to their
doors, a train of children after us walking the street, and
a crowd of all ages round the carriage, who kept their
eyes fixed upon us and examined us with a stare of as
much admiration as if we had been the inhabitants of
another planet. The other villages through which we
1733] FROM GENEVA TO CHAMOUXI. 29
passed were only a few scattered rude cottages built of
and covered with planks of fir, and ill calculated to keep
out either heat or cold, but they are covered in summer
by the shade of fruit trees, and warmed in winter by the
cattle, which are all brought under the same roof. Every
cottage, and in general the sides of the road, are sur-
rounded with plum, pear, and apple trees; the fruit
being dried, in the winter forms a part of the food of the
inhabitants. The plum- trees were so loaded with fruit that
the leaves were hardly distinguishable ; they were of two
kinds, a small purple and a small yellow. Crossed the
Arve at Sallenches, where we arrived about eight o'clock.
The inn decent, and the fleas less troublesome than at
Bonneville. Much amused all the evening by the patois
songs of a voiturier in the next room to us. Eained all
night.
Tuesday ', 12th. As it still continued raining we could
not mount our char-a-banc till near nine o'clock to
proceed to Chamouni. These cars have little resemblance
to the carriages we generally call by that name, and in
which we represent gods and heroes, being nothing more
than three or four planks fastened between four low
wheels, and on which you sit sideways about two foot and
a half from the ground ; from these planks is suspended
another bit of board by two chains to put the feet on by
way of stirrup or foot-board. It being wet weather, we
had a canvass roof, supported upon four sticks ; and how-
ever mean it may appear in description, it is an excellent
carriage for the roads it is intended to go on, as it cannot
be overturned (the shafts forming part of the carriage),
and is much less jolting than one would suspect.
The whole road from Geneva to Sallenches is perfectly
good for any carriage. Beyond Sallenches nobody takes
their carriage, as the road becomes impassable except for
a char-a-banc or horses. One here leaves the Arve. the
current of which is confined to very narrow limits by
30 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL.
mountains rising perpendicularly from its edge. The
scenes presented to the eye are the most sublime that
imagination can form. They fill the mind with great
ideas, and leave it impressed with a degree of admiration
which attempts not to express itself by words. I ex-
perienced this so forcibly that when I arrived at Cha-
mouni, after being for nearly six hours surrounded by
these new and astonishing views of nature, I sat down
perfectly absorbed in a confusion of ideas, every one
of which seemed too great for my mind, and could
neither speak myself nor wish to hear others on the
subject.
Baited the horses at a little wooden village, where there
are lead and silver mines, which a company of German
and French have undertaken to work. The house that
was building for the superintendent of the mines, from
having plastered walls and glass windows, had the appear-
ance of comfort in a place where the house of the cure
consisted of nothing but deal planks rudely enough put to
together. After passing through about two leagues of the
valley of Chamouni arrived at our inn, the interior of which
had a semblance of decent accommodation, at once pleasing
and unexpected in so remote a place. The village of
Ghamouni consists of about twenty or thirty houses, a
very neat church and cure -house, and both the cottages
and inhabitants have a much greater appearance of com-
fort than those of any other village through which we
have passed.
Wednesday 13$. Eained the whole forenoon so vio-
lently that we could not stir out. About four o'clock the
rain abating, went upon mules to see the source of the
Arveron (a small river which joins the Arve at Chamouni),
in the Glacier de Boisson. The river runs from under a
large cave or arch of ice in the lowest part of the glacier,
which rises sloping up between two immense hills.
The ice is for ever falling in large bodies from the mouth
CHAMOUXI.
3l
ie cave from whence the river proceeds ; it is of the
^ st beautiful greenish-blue colour, which it loses after
ving been for some time exposed to the air. Our mules
ctrned us to within a quarter of a mile of the ice We
chen clambered over a number of large pieces of rock
left by former glaciers, to the edge of the water, where we
stood upon large blocks of ice that had fallen at different
times from the great body of the glaciers which rose on
one side like an immense wall above us, while on the other
the river rushed from under its blue cave over masses of
rock and ice.
Thursday, Uth. Still much rain, and fog that entirely
covered three parts of the mountains. Went to the mu-
seum of a peasant in the village. It consisted of some
pretty crystals and two very well-stuffed chamois and a
bouquetin. The man himself had been all his life a guide
to the strangers who visited the valley; and from that and
from the company he had kept, he had acquired ideas and
conversation far above his situation. He remembered the
arrival of Mr. Wyndham and Mr. Pocoeke,* the two first
* Messrs. Wyndham and Pococke's excursion to Chamouni, and their
report of it, led, by its publication in the Mercure de Suisse in the months of
May and June 1741, to the excitement of great interest in those retired
wilds, amidst the most sublime scenery in nature, and at the foot of the
loftiest mountains of Europe. Murray's Handbook.
1 Quelque incroyable que la chose puisse paroitre, cette valle*e si singu-
lierement interessante, dans laquelle on voit la montagne la plus eleve"e de
1'ancien monde, est demeuree entierement inconnue jusqu'en 1741. Ce fut alors
que le celebre voyageur Pocock et un autre Anglais nomine" M. Windhani
le visiterent et donnerent a 1'Europe et au monde entier les premieres notions
d'une contre*e qui n'est qu'a 18 lieues de distance de Geneve. M. Baulacre,
bibliothecaire de Geneve, fut le premier qui fit connoitre la vallee de Cha-
mouny par une relation abrege'e de ce voyage qu'il publia dans le Mercxrc
de Suisse pour les mois de mai et de juin de Fan 1743.' Ebel, Manuel du
Voyageur en Suisse, vol. ii. p. 255.
To this account M. Ebel adds the following note:
'Comme tout le monde croyoit que cette valise e"toit un repaire de
brigands et de peuples barbares et sauvages, on blamait gene"ralement leur
resolution, on leur conseilla si serieusement de bien se tenir sur leur garde,
qu'ils partirent de Geneve armes jusqu'aux dents avec un nombre de do-
mestiques egalement arnie's ; ils n'oserent entrer dans aucune maison, ils
32 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL.
strangers that ever visited the glacier from curiositjv
whom his father had served as guide ; and the conster
tion of the inhabitants of the valley, who, seeing t\
strangers, with several attendants, horses, and firearm^
pitching a tent in their village, were persuaded thej)
came with an hostile intention, till informed by the cure
of the real motive of their journey. Went into the inside
of the church. Much neater than we could expect ;
adorned with a number of pictures not quite of the sign-
post kind, and a profusion of gilt wooden figures about the
altars. About eleven o'clock, the weather clearing up a
little, we mounted our mules, accompanied by two guides
on foot, to ascend Montanvert. The road the mules picked
out upon the almost perpendicular side of the mountain,
over and between immense masses of rock, loose stones,
and roots of trees, astonished me ; but as I had before
heard of their sagacity and steadiness when left to them-
selves, I did not experience the least degree of fear even
in those places where a slip would have been fatal, but
putting the bridle upon the mule's neck, took care only
not to slip off his tail, which the steepness of the ascent
often rendered possible. When we had got about a third
part of the mountain, as high as the mules could carry us,
the rain and fog were so great that, by the advice of our
guides, we submitted to the mortifying necessity of return-
ing. They could give us no hopes of better weather, and
declared if we went to the top of the mountain we should
see nothing from the thickness of the fog. We descended
on foot, and I found myself much more apt to stumble,
and the road much more difficult to pick than my mule
had done. Gathered a number of plants. The side of
camperent sous des tentes, et tinrent des feux et des sentinelles en garde
pendant toute la nuite. Les montagnes des environs Violent alors connues
sous le nom de " Montagnes inedites." '
It was not till 1760 that M. Saussure first visited the Valley of Cha-
moimi, when it was still regarded as a dangerous journey.
1783] ASCEND THE GLACIER DE BOISSON. 33
the mountain abounds in bilberries, cranberries, and straw-
berries. Found our mules waiting for us at the foot of
the mountain. Seized the first fair moment to go to the
Glacier de Boisson, which, about a league from the inn,
descends quite into the valley of Chamouni. The mules
carried us to within what appeared a few steps of the ice,
but these steps were so rugged and upon so perpendicular
an ascent, that we were yet half an hour before we found
ourselves upon the moraine, a sort of wall or mound of
gravel and stones, which runs parallel with the length of
the glacier. From hence we descended to the edge of the
body of ice, in the side of which one of our guides cut two
or three notches with a hatchet by way of steps, to enable
us to get up so slippery a surface. They then gave us
light fir poles, shod with iron, which we could fix into
the ice, and my father a small piece of leather, with iron
spikes fastened in it, to buckle round each foot. These
they call grimpons. Thus equipped, and with the help of
our guides, one of whom took me by the arm, and the
other my sister, we passed the ice with perfect ease,
and without even the fear of tumbling. Our guides were
so accustomed to treading upon ice that, though without
any precaution but a pole, they never made a false step ;
took us over that part of the glacier where the surface
was least unequal, and where we were not stopped by any
of those dreadful chasms so much talked of by travellers.
Monday, 13$. Left Lausanne, reached Geneva.
Wednesday, 15$. Dined at Lord Grandison's,* at the
Chateau de Coppet.
Thursday, 16$. Left Geneva with a voiturier for
* George, Earl of Grandison, son of Lady Elizabeth Villiers, daughter of
James, first Earl of Grandison. In consequence of the death of her two
brothers, she was created Viscountess and Countess of Grandison ; and,
dyino- 1782, was succeeded by her son George, born 1750, married February
1772to Lady Gertrude Conway; ob. 1800, leaving one daughter, Lady
Gertrude Villiers, married to Lord Henry Stuart. The title of Earl of
Grandison ceased, and the Viscounty descended to the Earls of Jersey.
VOL. I. D
34 MISS BEEEY'S JOUENAL. [irss
Turin, who agreed to carry us three, with three ser-
vants, to pay all the bills on the road and all expenses in
crossing Mont Cenis in short, to set us down at Turin
for 24 louis. The bargain was thought a good one. We
were asked 38/. for the same journey from Lausanne.
But this man was at any rate returning to Turin. We
did not arrive at Eemilly till past ten at night, our horses
never going out of a walk nor ever making out a league
in an hour.
Friday, 6th. Breakfasted at Aix les Bains, at the post-
house, a wretched hole.
The baths are in a handsome edifice, begun by the
present King of Sardinia in 1773,* and hardly yet finished ;
they are numerous and well contrived ; the water is much
warmer than that of Bath, and has a sulphureous smell not
much less disagreeable than that of Harrowgate ; the town,
or rather village, is poor.
Dined at Chambery, the capital of Savoy. It is a walled
town, garrisoned with Piedmontese troops ; its situation
beautiful, in a fine valley, surrounded by mountains with a
number of picturesque chateaux and country-houses scat-
tered upon their sides ; the streets are narrow, but it has
more an air of business and population than any of the
other towns in Savoy ; the best auberge very bad. Left
Chambery, arrived at Mont Melian at seven ; the people
very civil ; the room we slept in was tolerably clean.
Saturday, YIth. Dined at Aiguebelle. Arrived at La
Charnbre between eight and nine. The road the whole
way from Mont Melian most romantic and beautiful,
along a narrow but cultivated valley, watered by the
rapid and turbulent Arche, and bounded on every side by
lofty Alps, on the tops of many of which some spots of snow
were already to be seen, while their sides, to an astonish-
ing height, were covered with vines, apparently growing
* Victor Amadeus HI. succeeded his father Charles Emmanuel ELL in
1773. His reign was unfortunate; he lost Savoy; died 1796.
rss
1783] SWISS VILLAGES. 35
upon the bare rock. Mont Melian is surrounded by
vineyards, and its wine much in esteem, but the pleasure
one everywhere receives from the sublime beauties of the
country is much diminished by the appearance of extreme
poverty in the people, and the perfect wretchedness of
their cottages and villages. The cottages are generally a
parcel of loose stones, put together without even mortar,
over which a number of wooden planks or pieces of flat
stone are thrown by way of roof; two or three little
holes with iron bars before them for windows, often with-
out either paper or glass. Their villages consist of about
eighty or a hundred such houses placed together in a
street hardly ever more than nine feet wide, which keeps
it at all times of the year equally dirty, wet, and dark.
The church (with which they are all provided) is the only
building which possesses the luxury of a few panes of glass.
The inhabitants, in every respect, too well correspond
with these wretched dwellings. In one or two villages
between Aiguebelle and La Chambre, almost every crea-
ture we saw had a goitre, and most of them that humi-
liating appearance of stupidity and idiotism which is
observed to accompany that malady. L'Ecu de France,
at La Chambre, dirty. Two French travellers had got
possession of the only decent room before we arrived,
which, however, they gave up to us ; there were three
beds in it, one of which my father was obliged to occupy.
Sunday, 18th. Dined at St. Michel, a wretched vil-
lage, enclosed with a wall ; from hence we had four horses
added to those of the voiturier, to draw us up a very long
and very steep hill about a league from Modane.
The whole road from La Chambre to Modane, still
through the valley of the Arche, was at every step more
and more sublimely beautiful. The vine cultivated about
all the houses and high up upon the sunny sides of the
mountains.
Monday, 19^. Left Modane; arrived at Lanslebourg
D 2
36 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1733
at the foot of Mont Cenis before eleven. The road from
Modane to Lanslebourg a continual ascent and descent
along the side of the mountains, the Arche rolling below
in a very narrow rocky channel. At Lanslebourg one is
surrounded with the porters of the mountain, but we had
agreed with the voiturier for our transport, and had
nothing to do with the bargain which after much cla-
mour was made with them. At half-past twelve three
chairs were prepared for my sister, myself, and our maid,
a mule for my father and another for one of the servants,
while the other was left to come over with the carriage.
Just before we set out, a chair arrived from the other
side of the mountain with a gentleman whom I imme-
diately knew to be Cozens* the painter's son,f and surprised
him by saluting him by his name, as he was stepping out
of his chair. An unexpected meeting in such a place,
even with a person in whom one is little interested or ac-
quainted, is very pleasant.
Left Lanslebourg ; stopped at La Saverne, on the plain
of Mont Cenis, for twenty minutes, to rest the chairmen ;
and arrived at Novaleze, the village on this side the
mountain, before 5 P.M. The pace at which these chair-
men carry one, and the dexterity with which they take
the poles from one another without stopping, is truly
astonishing ; down the steepest and ruggedest part of the
road they went for two leagues without intermission,
much quicker than my father could possibly follow,
though carrying no weight, and taking always a shorter
way than the winding of the road allowed them to do.
* Alexander Cozens, by birth a Russian, was a landscape painter, but
chiefly practised as a drawing-master ; he was also the author of some works
connected with art. Died 1786. Edwards' Anecdotes of Painting.
f John Cozens, son of Alexander Cozens, followed the same profession as
his father. He produced some drawings of great merit, executed by a
process that may be considered as tinted chiaro oscuro, and which has served
as a foundation to the manner since adopted by Mr. Turner. In the year
1794 he became insane, and died 1799. Ibid.
1783] ST. AMBROISE. 37
The road is in no respect dangerous, though in some
parts amazingly steep, but the way is always wide enough
to admit half a dozen chairs or mules abreast, and the
chairs are carried so near the ground, that were the
porters to fall (which they never do) one could hardly be
hurt. The views of the surrounding Alps noble, and
the cascade formed by the torrent of Cenis one of the
finest I ever saw. Though much snow had fallen on the
mountain about ten days before, a few small spots only
remained on the northern side.
The auberge at Novaleze the dirtiest and worst we
have yet been in.
Tuesday, 20$. At St. Antoine began to lose the
mountains and get into the plain of Lombardy. The
mulberry begins here to be cultivated ; the trees are all
pollarded and kept low, to force young shoots for leaves,
and are far from picturesque. Slept at St. Ambroise, a
large village situated under a high rock, on the summit
of which is a beautiful castle, formerly a monastery ; at
present there is but one pretre or monk, who performs
service in the chapel there.
Wednesday, 2Ist. Left St. Ambroise; arrived at
Turin between twelve and one. The road from Eivoli to
Turin (two leagues) through one continued avenue of
elms. The Duke of Savoy's palace at Eivoli a great,
ugly brick building.
Mr. Pitt,* and Mr. Ashetons,f Sir James Graham,J
and Mr. Brand supped with us.
* Mr. Pitt's name, though constantly mentioned in Miss Berry's journal
during this first tour, never occurs again till in the year 1809, when staying
in the neighbourhood of West Moulsey, she finds her old acquaintance, Mr.
Thomas Pitt, residing near there with his grown-up family.
f Of the Mr. Ashetons it is difficult to obtain any account. The Eev.
Thomas Asheton, Rector of St. Botolph, and the friend of Horace Walpole
and Mason, died 1775, leaving two sons. Query, if them.
I Sir James Graham, Bart., of Netherby (father of the late Eight Hon.
Sir James Graham), created a baronet in 1782 ; married, 1785, Catherine,
eldest daughter of John Earl of Galloway ; died 1824.
The Rev. Thomas Brand took a high degree in mathematics at Cam-
38 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. Cms
Thursday, 22nd. Saw the palace and the Great
Theatre. The palace is built of brick and intended to be
stuccoed, which not being yet done gives it a mean,
unfinished appearance ; it is divided into fine suites of
summer and winter apartments. Much gilding and a
great deal of looking-glass, and a number of pleasing
pictures : A Youth caressing a Dog, by Cignani, beautiful ;
and a Group of Cows, by P. Potter, nature itself; the
Femme Hydropique, by Gerard Dow, for which the late
king gave 1,5 GO/, sterling, did not strike me much ; I
think I have seen many of the cabinet pictures in
Flanders much more highly finished ; the same subject,
in the gallery at Dusseldorf, far superior to it.
The Great Theatre joins to the palace by a long
gallery. There are only performances in it at the car-
nival, or on the occasion of some prince visiting the
Court of Turin, when it is illuminated with 2,000 lights
in the boxes, and must make a brilliant appearance ; we
saw it by daylight, and all in rubbish. It is considerably
larger than our Opera House in London, contains 182
boxes, in six rows, exclusive of the king's, which is orna-
mented with glass, and occupies the centre of the second and
third rows. During the carnival they say it is always full.
The buildings and streets of Turin disappointed me ;
they are, to be sure, at right angles, and the buildings
regular, but the finest and newest streets have almost a
ruinous appearance, from being of that rough sort of
brickwork, with the holes of the scaffolding left, intended
to be covered with stucco, but it will be long, if ever,
before it is done. The Strada del Po, the finest street, is
in this condition, and it takes off the beauty which its
regularity, height, arcades on each side, and gate at the
bottom would otherwise give.
bridge ; married, in 1798, the daughter of Dr. Wharton, of Old Park, Co.
Durham ; died Rector of "Wath, near Eipon, and Canon Residentiary of the
Cathedral of Ripon. His wife survived him many years.
1783 3 TURIN.
39
The palace of the Dukes of Savoy is the only building
that has a front much ornamented. The king's palace is
ike the streets, all unstuccoed and unfinished. The town
has a great air of business, bustle, and population ; the
streets are full of men walking about in full dress, for
every creature here above the commonest shopkeepers
wears a bag, a sword, and a suit of clothes. Went in the
evening to the Theatre de Carignan,' where an opera buffa
is performed all the summer. It appears as wide, but not
so deep, as Drury Lane ; the Prince of Carignan's- box-
occupies the place of the king's at the other house. The
king never comes to this. The dancing consists almost
entirely of feats of agility worthy of Sadler's Wells,
continued vaulting into the air, and the higher they
jump the more bravos or bravas they receive from the
delighted pit. The dresses elegant and various, and the
stage well filled.
Friday, 23rd. Day rainy. In the evening paid our
compliments to Mr.* and Mrs. Trevor, to whom we had a
letter from Count Walmoclen.
Saturday, Uth. Saw the museum at the University.
The museum, besides the famous Isiac table,f contains
some pretty Eoman busts, and a number of lamps, small
bronze figures, and earthenware, most of them found at
Industria,^ the remains of the Koman town that was
* Mr. John Trevor, Envoy Extraordinary to the King of Sardinia in
February 1783, and Minister Plenipotentiary to the same court in June 1789.
f A tablet of bronze of about 4 ft. by 3 ft., with figures engraved of Egyp-
tian deities and hieroglyphics. It went to Paris with other stolen goods,
and has been restored to Turin.
% Near Verolongo, but on the opposite side of the Po, is Montea del Po,
occupying the site of the Roman city of Industria. This city, mentioned
by Pliny and other ancient writers, had been in a manner lost. Many anti-
quarians supposed that Casale had risen upon its ruins ; but in 1744 the
discovery of Roman remains on this spot, and some fragments of inscrip-
tions, led to the supposition that this was the site, and further excavations
were made. The result proved that this soil covered a very rich mine of
antiquities, and produced many of the finest articles in the museum at
Turin. Murray's Handbook.
40 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1783
discovered near Turin, some very clear glass cups, and
a glass bottle corked, containing a liquor they take to
have been milk. The chapel of the Saint Sudario joins
the palace to the cathedral. The cathedral is an ugly
old building, hung with bad tapestry ; the chapel of the
S. S. is singular and beautiful, it is lined through with
black marble, and supported on black marble pillars.
The holy cloth is kept in a large crystal case, with a
brass grating before it, upon an altar.
Sunday, 25th. Left Turin ; slept at Casale. The road
through the rich flat of Piedmont very populous, and a
considerable appearance of comfort. Came the first three
or four stages as fast as we could have posted in England.
At Casale a clean auberge.
Monday, 26th. The people broke the carriage in
pushing it out of the inn yard, which delayed our de-
parture till near 10 A.M. Slept at Novi.
Tuesday, 27th. Passed the Bochetta, between Novi
and Ottaggio. The morning was cloudy; when at the
summit of the hill we came into a beam of bright sun-
shine, while rain and thick clouds were below us.
The road makes a thousand turns round the side of the
mountain to avoid different gullies and torrents from the
mountains ; it is all paved, and in some places supported
against the rock by masonry and piles of wood. In one
part it had fallen in, and, though sufficiently repaired for
carriages to pass, was rather frightful and dangerous.
The lower part of the Apennines is covered with chestnut
trees ; higher up and near the top there is neither wood
nor cultivation, but bleak and bare, without either the
beauty or sublimity of the Alps. From Campomarone to
Genoa (eleven miles) a magnificent road, made entirely
at the expense of the Marquis Cambiaso, in consequence
of a vow made when his wife was ill that if ever she
recovered he would make such a road ; it is very broad,
with a row of elm trees on each side and a very low stone
1783] GENOA. 41
wall ; it was finished only in 1776. Nothing can be more
like fairyland than the whole road between Campoma-
rone and Genoa ; the sides of the hills are covered with
country-houses, gardens, and vineyards, forming the
gayest scenes imaginable ; for above three miles before
arriving at Genoa it is one continual row of houses, which
join to the faubourg of San Pietro <T Arena. The view of
the town, the hills behind it, the harbour, and the moles,
from the point of the Lanterna on entering the town,
most striking and beautiful.
Wednesday, 28th. Sent our letter to the consul ; re-
ceived a visit from his partner, Mr. Brame ; walked
through the principal streets. The Strada Nuova a row
of palaces, but so narrow that much of the magnificence
of its effect is lost ; and yet, except the Strada Bolli, it is
the widest street in the town. The rest are no broader
than a court in London, paved almost entirely with flat
stones, and very pleasant for walking. A street of sil-
versmiths, the shops nearly as showy as those in London.
From the narrowness of the streets carriages are hardly
ever used, except when the families are going into the
country. All the people of fashion in town go in chairs,
with two or three footmen ; the gentlemen often walk,
their chair and footmen always following them; the
chairs sometimes very handsome. Mr. Pitt and the
Mr. Ashetons, Sir James Graham, and Mr. Brand arrived
in the evening, and all took up their lodgings in the same
inn.
Thursday, 29th. Went all out in a felucca of eight
oars to view the town from the sea. I think upon the
whole it is not more striking than on entering it by land
from the point of the Lanterna. My father, my sister,
and myself went afterwards to the Albergo dei Poveri, an
immense building which serves both for a hospital and
house of correction. An end to one wing is still wanting
to make it regular. It is built upon rock, which juts out
42 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1733
immediately behind the building. It contains 1,080 per-
sons 780 women, and 300 men and boys. The boys
are put out to trades ; the women, if they do not marry
or find a service, may remain there all their lives. Great
defalcations made from its revenue by those who have
the administration of it. There are six of them, not
places for life, but appointed at pleasure by the reigning
people in power. The revenues of the house are large
enough to admit of ah 1 the people being perfectly well
fed, but they are not, and have a very scanty allowance
both of bread, wine, and meat.
Saw the church of the Annunciata, entirely covered
in the inside with gilding, painting, and marble, in a very
gaudy taste.
Went to the opera. There is a sort of gallery or bal-
cony before the first row of boxes, very convenient for
the gentlemen, and what I never saw before.
Friday ', 30^. Saw the Palazzo Brignole, Chiesa Cari-
gnano, Doge's palace, and the Doge himself, attended by
all the senators, coming from the council-chambers. The
two new council-chambers most magnificent and elegant.
Saturday, 3Ist. Palazzo Durazzo, Palazzo Balbi, and
the Church of St. Filippo JSFeri.
Sunday, November 1st. Gardens of Andrea Doria,
Palazzo Dominico Serra, the new Grande Salle very mag-
nificent in gilding and glass.
Madame Durazzo has 200 livres of Genoa an hour
(29 livres in a louis).
The house of Cambiasi, consisting of three families,
have 1,800,000 livres a year rent among them. No hotel
or auberge allowed to keep wine in then- houses ; the
state are the wine-merchants and bakers of the town.
More monks of every sort in Genoa, and more con-
tinual services going on in their churches, than I have
seen in any other town in Italy. Left Genoa.
Monday, 3rd. Left Campomarone. Between Ottagio
1 *7fi<l
178t5J NOVI. 40
'to
and Novi they gave us six such tired horses that, going
uphill, they refused three or four times to draw, and in
spite of all our efforts, stood still for a quarter of an hour
at a time ; this, together with fording the river, which was
very much swelled with the rain of the night before, pre-
vented our getting to Novi till three o'clock. More than
an hour was taken up in getting our baggage put on, and
we did not leave Novi till past four, in a heavy rain, to go
to Tortona, with the Scrivia to pass. By the time we
arrived at the bank of the river it was dark, and the rain
continued to pour. We called in vain for the boatmen ;
the boat was there, but the men were gone home for the
night. Our postilions were desired to carry us to the
first house that would take us in ; it was about half a mile
off the^Eivalto di Scrivia, a poor village of a dozen
houses. After hard knocking for about five minutes, we
at last got admittance into a sort of auberge. Here we
found a place to sit in, which had acorns spread in one
part of the floor and a wine-trough in another ; it was,
however, decently clean, and the people civil. We got a
fire made felt ourselves thankful to get housed and
were soon very comfortable. Above we found two beds
for ourselves and Hannah, and my father had a mattress
put upon the table in the room below. Eained all night.
Tuesday, 4th. Left Eivalto di Scrivia. When we
arrived at the passage of the river, we had the greatest
reason to be thankful that the absence of boatmen had
prevented our attempting to cross it in the dark. Two
days and a night's rain had swelled a shallow stream into
a broad and rapid river, and the boat, a small and bad one,
was unaccustomed to carry carriages, which, except in cases
like the present, always ford the stream. We passed our-
selves first, then our six horses ; and afterwards our two
servants, with the assistance of half a dozen other men,
were employed for nearly two hours in getting the coach
put in and taken out of the boat, we looking on, and
44 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1783
expecting every moment it was to be broken in pieces.
By good luck, however, it escaped both from the embarka-
tion and afterwards from some of the worst road I ever
saw on this side the ferry. The road was close upon the
edge of the river, and portions of it had been newly
carried away by the rapidity of the water ; it was also
full of great holes, where trees had been dug up, and
large stumps of others which had been cut down. We
got out, and the servants supported the carriage on each
side. I never was better pleased than when I saw it
upon smooth ground, with only the loss of a trifling
screw.
At Novi we left all mountains, and found ourselves in
the rich plain of Lombardy great cornfields, and vine-
yards with mulberry trees planted in rows round them ;
the vines in rows, at a considerable distance from one
another, and corn between them. The roads broad and
good. Arrived at Broni. Clean auberge.
Wednesday, bth. Arrived at Piacenza about midday.
The road still a rich plain of uninterrupted cultivation
of corn and vine ; notwithstanding which the inhabitants
of all the small towns and villages are idle and wretched
to the last degree.
Starve in the midst of Nature's bounty, curs'd,
And midst the loaded vineyard die of thirst,
is a true and poetical description of the effects of the
slavery and idleness in which their religion and govern-
ment keep them.
The moment a carriage stops at the post it is surrounded
by a crowd of idle wretches wrapped up in large cloaks,
which serve to cover the rags beneath, and who, having
apparently no other occupation than that of walking up
one street and down another, seem happy in having some-
thing more than their accustomed walls to gaze at ; every
creature who passes through the street joins this set, so
1783] PIACENZA. 45
that, before the horses are put to and the former postilions
paid (about which there is always a squabble), one has
been as thoroughly stared at, and as closely examined, as
at the entrance of a masquerade in London. Two miles
from Piacenza, the Trebia is crossed in a boat. The water
was considerably swelled by the quantity of rain that
had fallen, and crossing rivers is always troublesome ; the
boats are small and bad, the boatmen awkward, and the
postilions noisy and quarrelsome. Piacenza is a great
half-inhabited-looking town; the streets are tolerably
wide and in general straight, but consisting of mean
irregular houses, interspersed with the long dead walls of
monasteries, and here and there a palace going to decay.
The Strada Grande, which is of a great length, broad, and
tiree a cordon, is overrun with grass, and looks more
like the approach to a great town than a street in the
town itself. The Piazza Grande, where are the statues of
Alexander Farnese and his son,* is the green market,
consequently very dirty, and consists entirely of mean
shops. The equestrian statues are noble, whether they
are done by John of Bologna or his scholar Francesco
Mocchi.f That of Eanuccio Farnese struck me upon the
whole as the finest.
The cathedral is a great building supported on stone
pillars. The pictures by L. Caracci are so black that
one can hardly make out the subject, far less the beauties.
In the cupola, painted in fresco by Guercino, one can
admire the grandeur and grace of some of the heads, but
they are too high to give pleasure upon a cursory view.
* Alexander Farnese, third Duke of Parma and Placentia, was the eldest
son of Octavius Farnese and Margaret of Austria ; born 1555 ; married, at
ten years old, to Mary, niece of the King of Portugal. He was wounded at -
Candebec, 1592, and died from the effects of his wound at the age of
*
Ranuccio Farnese married Margaret Aldobrandini ; died 1622.
t These statues were designed by Francesco Mocchi, a scholar of John of
Bologna. Handbook.
46 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [nss
The church of St. Augustin, built by Vignola,* new and
elegant, has five aisles, supported on Doric pillars which
struck me as being too low.f They took us to the church
of St. John to see a monument of one of the family of
Scoto, J which is not worth the trouble of the walk.
Thursday, 6th. Left Piacenza; arrived at Parma.
The roads good, through the same rich plain, except im-
mediately in the neighbourhood of Parma, all corn land
and vineyards, much less pasture than one would expect
to see in so great a dairy country; the post here well
served. Five miles from Parma crossed the Taro, but
without any trouble; the stream is narrow, the boat large,
and the people used to the business.
Friday, 7th. Saw the church of St. Antoine, built by
the Pope for a convent of nuns ; it is small but very pretty.
It has two arched roofs, the first of stone perforated, and
so light that it is with difficulty one can believe it is not
of wood; through the perforations are seen the paintings
of the second roof, which represent our Saviour, angels,
&c. &c., in the clouds : it has a good effect, though perhaps
more like a coup de theatre than the decorations of a
church. The church of San Sepolcro has a picture of Cor-
reggio the Virgin, our Saviour, and Joseph, with angels
in the air offering palms; Joseph's head beautiful; the Ma-
donna struck me as without any dignity or much grace ;
the Bambino not like an infant, and in a very distorted
attitude. Also a picture of the Holy Family of Parmegiano,
the Bambino beautiful. The church of St. John large,
dark, and dirty ; the cupola painted by Correggio so dark
* Giacomo Barozzi da Vignola, born 1507 at Vignola in Modena j much
patronised by Cardinal Alexander Farnese ; appointed architect of St. Peter's
on the death of Michael Angelo, 1564 ; he died 1573.
f ' Now desecrated and closed, and in danger of demolition.' Murray's
Handbook.
J Church of San Giovanni in Canale, founded by the Knights Templars.
There is a very fine tomb of the Count of Montalbo, Orazio Scotti, by
Algardi. Murray's Handbook.
A magnificent bridge was begun by Marie Louise in 1816 ; and completed
in 1821. Ibid.
PARMA. 47
and small that one could hardly have seen the pictures the
day they were put up, far less now when they are faded
and dirty. The two pictures of Correggio inthesame church
of a dead Christ and the martyrdom of a monk were too
brown and faded for me to discover their beauties ; in
the first the drawing strikingly incorrect, both of the arm
of the Christ and of the Madonna.
The palace is a great unfinished brick building, the
windows small and shabby; a space remains in front where
a new palace was intended to be built.
The Eoyal Academy of Painting and Sculpture is at-
tached to the palace. In the gallery they have models of
all the remains of antiquity for the use of the students,
and some few ancient statues. A female figure in dra-
pery, though without either head or arms, most beautiful,
found at Velleia,* and a bust of Vitellius in white marble,
much smaller than life, which had all the expression of
painting.
The chef d'oeuvre of Correggio is likewise preserved
here (the Madonna and Child, with St. Jerome and Mary
Magdalen) ; it is the first picture of his I have seen that gave
me real pleasure ; it is in excellent preservation, the colours
fresh. The Madonna's head is said to be too dark, but
the longer one looks at it the more beauty and grace is to
be discovered; the head of the angel beautiful; the Child
like a child, though neither a dignified nor lovely child. In
another apartment of the Academy is preserved the patent
or charter of Trajan to the Velleians, found at Velleia; it
is upon a copper plate about 6ft. long with a copper border
like a frame round it; it is broken into a number of pieces,
but is perfectly legible, though the engraving of the cha-
racters is what we should now call very bad. There are
* Velleia though it must have been a city of considerable note, is nowhere
directly mentioned in any existing ancient writers. The ^bterranean trej
sures were first obscurely known in the 17th century^ In 1,60, the I
Don Philip, then Duke of Parma, ordered excavations to be scientifically
be-un. The excavations have not been regularly continued since 1760.
Murray s JLLanuoooK.
48 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [irss
likewise a number of Eoman antiquities, such as lamps, in-
scriptions, &c., &c., &c., all found at Velleia.
The cathedral large and dark ; the cupola by Correggio,
like the other, so high and so much spoilt that I could
neither see nor admire it. A head of Correggio by himself.
The church called La Steccatta, belonging to the King of
Naples, magnificent in the decorations of the altar: the
cupola by Parmegiano, a transfiguration of the Virgin,
God the Father receiving her, surrounded by an infinity
of angels ; the colours were less gone than those of Correg-
gio 's, and the grouping seemed grand, but it is much too
high to be examined with pleasure. The Baptistery, a
very old Gothic building, octagon, with a roof very like,
but not so pretty as, the Chapter House at York.
Being a fast day, we could get nothing but birds in the
town, and not many of them.
The Great Theatre (the largest in Europe) a great ruin;
it is above fifty years since there has been any represen-
tation in it, and in all probability there will never be an-
other, as it would cost more to clean and repair it than
ever the state of Parma will have to bestow. It seems an
attempt to unite an ancient amphitheatre with a modern
theatre ; the space usually occupied by the parterre is flat,
and paved like an arena ; when the theatre was in use, they
told us, water used to be introduced and sea-fights repre-
sented. Eound it are rows of seats, one above another,
for spectators, and above them two rows of arches the
boxes, and above them a gallery. The distance of the
stage from the boxes is great, and yet we could perfectly
well hear a man speaking in an ordinary voice. It could
contain 12,000 or 14,000 people. Mr. Pitt and the Mr.
Ashetons arrived ; Sir James Graham, Mr. Brand, and
Captain Coussmaker in the evening.
Saturday, Sth. Left Parma. The road good through a
continued flat to Modena. The vines were trained up
high trees, generally elm, planted in rows in the fields ;
MODEXA. 49
the vines hanging in festoons from one to another, and
twisting up almost every tree by the roadside. When
the fruit is ripe the effect must be beautiful. On enter-
ing the states of Modena, the population seems to be
greater, and the people more in comfort, than those of
Parma, who bear great marks of poverty and wretched-
ness. Their soldiers are the best-dressed and most com-
fortable-looking people among them ; there are about
2,000 between Parma andPiacenza, by far the best-look-
ing troops we have seen in Italy. Modena is a pretty
town, and clean for Italy. The front of the duke's
palace is handsome. The four orders of architecture sup-
port a sort of clumsy pediment in the middle. Walking
in the garden (a Dutch parterre) behind the palace, we
saw the duke's carriage waiting to take him up at the
garden door; it was one of the very oldest, plainest,
shabbiest chariots I ever saw, and would not have sold
for fifty shillings ; the horses were like old broken-down
hacks, and the harness and coachman exactly of a piece
with them. We saw him and another gentleman get into
the carriage, behind which two servants mounted, whom
for liveries and appearance any country parson in England
would have been ashamed to own ; yet in his stables we
saw above ninety good-looking, well-fed horses. The
duke* is old, rich, and close ; his only legitimate child is
married to the Duke of Milan.f He lives with a mistress
by whom he has a son; his duchess (a Princess Massa
Carrara) has been long parted from him, and lives at
* Ercole Rinaldo, the last Duke of the House of Este. He married Maria
Theresa Cibo, sovereign princess of Massa Carrara. He was deprived of his
dominions by the French invasion. A principality was offered 1
the Briso-au but he would not accept this compensation, and died m r.
ment at Treviso, October 1803.-Jfimiy' Handbook.
t Archduke Ferdinand of Austria, son of the Emperor Francis and the
Emprt Maria Theresa, married Mary Beatrice of Este, daughter and heires.
of Ercole Rinaldo; died 1806. The duchy was secured to her by t
treaty of Versailles. She died at Versailles, 1829.
VOL. I. E
50 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1733
Beggio.* Saw the orphan hospital, a plain handsome
building, clean and proper in the inside, contains 300
boys and 300 girls ; the boys kept till they are sixteen,
the girls twenty ; some of them we saw employed in
gauze and riband weaving, and preparing silk. Opposite
to this orphan house there is another large handsome
building, which contains under the same roof an hospital
for the state in general, and another for the troops. The
troops ill-clothed and shabby. The cathedral a very ugly
Grseco-Gothic building.
Sunday, $th. Intended to have set off early for
Bologna, but all the post-horses were stopped for the
Duchess of Parma and her suite going to Naples ; were
obliged, therefore, to spend another day at Modena.
Monday r , 10th. Left Modena, arrived at Bologna; still
the same rich, flat country, vines all twining up high elm
trees, and hanging in festoons from one to another. Mr.
Pitt and Mr. Ashetons arrived at Bologna with us ; Cap-
tain Coussmaker in the evening.
Tuesday, llth. Walked to the Chiesa di Santa Maria
di Luca ; it is a league from the town, upon the top of a
hill called Monte della Guardia ; the walk is up the steepest
part of the hill by a number of steps, and the whole way
under a colonnade. This great work was begun in 1674,
and carried on at the expense of all orders of people at
Bologna, in days when the belief and confidence in the
wonders worked by this pilgrimage were so great, that
not only all rich individuals contributed according to their
ability in building three or four or more arches, but
societies of artisans and menial servants associated together
to save their souls by building an arch. In every one is
the arms, device, or name of the person or society of
persons who built it. Several of them near the top are
* The Duchess of Parma was buried at Reggio. A fine monumental
bust was erected to her memory in 1820, by her daughter Mary Beatrice.
Murray's Handbook.
1783] BOLOGXA. 5]
inscribed Da vendore that is to say, for so much money
you may have the honour of placing your name and arms
on the wall, and the reputation of having contributed to
the holy work. The price of this was formerly fifty
sequins, but has since fallen to ten.
St. Peter and St. Paul, by Titian ; Abram and Hagar,
by Guercino ; a Group of Children, by Albano ; and a
Man receiving his Sight at the Tomb of a Saint, a large
picture by Cigoli, all in the Palazzo Sampieri,* are the
pictures which pleased me most in Bologna. The palaces
at Bologna are cold, half-furnished, uncomfortable-looking
places ; indeed, they never show but the suites of apart-
ments which contain the pictures, and which, I believe,
are very seldom used by the families who inhabit them ;
many of them, too, have sold all their originals, but have
still the walls of their apartments covered with bad copies
adorned with the names of great masters of whom they
once possessed the originals.
The serious opera is performed in a small theatre. In
the new theatre we saw the tragedy of Tamerlane, but as
the piece was not printed, I could not tell whether it had
any resemblance to ours of the same name ; what most
delighted the people was a battle upon the stage, which
lasted nearly a quarter of an hour with unremitted ardour,
and concluded with the slaughter of eight or ten men
left dead upon the stage. All Italian actors, I am told,
are very bad, because dramatic performances are not the
taste of the upper ranks, who relish and encourage
nothing but the opera. These were called superlatively
bad ; they had much less action than I expected.
Bologna is one of the towns in Italy where there are
the most frequent attempts to murder and stab people
* The famous pictures of its once celebrated gallery have been sold : the
si-eater part have been transferred to the Brera at Milan. Its fine ceilings
and chimney-pieces, by the Caracci and Guercino, are well preserved.-
Murray's Handbook.
2
52 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1783
our books of travel said much above a hundred every
year. Everybody we questioned upon the subject owned
there might be above fifty or sixty. We tried in vain to
buy a stiletto, or what is called from its length a sept and
demi, but their sale is prohibited, and we could not meet
with one.
Bought a piece of crape at the manufacturer's at two
paoli and a half the braccia, about two shillings the
English yard. The peasants in the neighbourhood of
Bologna have an air of poverty in spite of the richness
of the country and the epithet of Bologna la grasse, to
which the Italians add, ma non per chi passa.
Monday r , VI th. Slept at Feligara; the hills quite barren
and having the appearance of old volcanic matter, or of
some effect of fire.
Tuesday, ISth. Passed the mountain on the side of
which is Pietra Mala ; before it was light it seemed from
the road like two broad steady flames joined together,
clear and bright as that of a candle rising from the
ground, and might at a distance in the night-time be
mistaken for a forge or large fire. Broke one of
the springs of our carriage about thirty miles from
Florence, came with it the whole way tied up with
leather straps and cords. Had the happiness of finding
a dozen letters for me, besides those to my father, on the
table in our apartment. The delight of hearing of the
welfare of most of our friends, of receiving letters after
being so long deprived of them, of hearing of the safe
arrival and happiness of my grandmother in Ireland,
joined to the comfort of finding ourselves in an excellent
inn, surrounded by English people, after a long tedious
day's journey in a bad day, with a broken carriage, my
father, myself, and the maid all ill, will make me ever
remember with pleasure the evening of our arrival at
Florence.
Monday, December Ibth. Left Florence at 10 o'clock
SIEXXA. 53
A.M., with a voiturier and four mules, who agreed to
carry us to Borne in five days and a half for thirty
sequins, and arrived at Eaggibonsi. The view of Florence
three or four miles from the hills most beautiful.
Tuesday, 16th. Dined at Sienna ; saw the cathedral,
the hospital, and the library. The front of the cathedral
is Gothic, much ornamented, but in very bad taste ; the
acanthus leaves of the Corinthian capital are placed upon
the top of cluster pillars and a crowd of Gothic ornaments.
The library adjoining the church contains some finely
illuminated missals. The marble group of the three
Graces,* standing upon a pedestal in the middle of it, are
in my opinion clumsy, bad workmanship, and, though
antique, never could have been called good. The walls
are covered with very old fresco paintings, which they
say were designed by Raphael, and painted by Perugino
and Pinturiccio ; they are as fresh as if done yesterday,
and the drawing may be good, but they are stiff. The
hospital we only looked into the wards ; they were mostly
full, but seemed very clean and orderly. Left Sienna,
arrived at the auberge at Buono Convento. Here we were
ushered through the stable (the end of which formed the
kitchen) up some broken brick steps into a room, the only
one in the house which contained a place for fire ; it was
furnished with a long table and benches, at the end of
which three or four women were at work by the light
of a lamp. From hence we ascended some more steps to
see our bed-rooms. The walls were only white enough
to make the dirt upon them more visible, the floors much
worse paved than any stable I ever saw in England, and
to the full as dirty, and the beds with quilts that did not
touch the edge any way. After the view of these com-
fortable chambers we returned to the room below ; with
much difficulty we got a fire made with wet \vood. The
* This group was copied by Canova. Raphael made a sketch of it, still
preserved in the Academy at Venice.
54 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [i?&s
women continued working at the end of the room, and
were joined by several others and by a man, whom at last
they left sleeping upon one of the benches. As this room
was a general passage to all the upper part of the house,
there were men, women, children, dogs, and cats con-
tinually going to and fro ; it was like Noah's ark, on the
side of the unclean animals. We begged the people
would not trouble themselves to bring any other supper
than eggs, and upon which, with the help of some ches-
nuts and apples, we made a very good supper, and had
three hours' sound sleep (in our clothes) upon a bed which
would perhaps have turned our stomachs in England.
Wednesday, Ylth. Left Buono Convento at 2 A.M., in
order to reach Aquapendente, forty-four miles distant, at
night. Dined at Eicorsi in a hayloft, underneath which
was, as usual, the stable and kitchen. Before we came to
Aquapendente, there was a very steep hill to ascend ; it
was slippery with the frost, and the mules, being tired,
were unable either to draw the carriage or to keep their
feet. We all got out to walk. After walking about half
a mile without either seeing or hearing anything of the
carriage, there being hardly light for us to pick our
steps, and nobody to show us the way either to the
town or to the inn, we thought it advisable to turn back,
and found the carriage exactly in the same situation as
when we left it. The mules, assisted by three others,
could not move it ; and after standing nearly half an hour
in the dark and cold, preaching to the people not to break
the carriage (which they seemed in a fair way of doing),
we were obliged to leave it to their mercy, and, taking one
of the servants and a lamp from the carriage, made the
best of our way to the town. We kept ourselves warm
by walking, but when we arrived we knew not which
way to turn, and were obliged to knock at the first door
for information. The people were civil, and offered us a
guide, by whose assistance we at last reached a miserable
1783] ROME. 55
auberge, where, instead of a civil waiter, we were saluted
by the barking of a large hungry mastiff, who would not
suffer us to come up the stairs. At last, however, we
made good our entry into an apartment, which, after a
long walk in a cold night, was welcome if not comfortable,
and thus ended the adventures of a tedious day.
Thursday, I8th. Left Aquapendente ; arrived in twelve
hours at Viterbo, five miles from Aquapendente ; passed
through Nuovo San Lorenzo* a regular village or small
town built by Pope Ganganelli. It is the only new build-
ing of that sort I have yet seen in Italy ; a neat octagon,
traversed by the road, and open to another street, at the
end of which is a church, and opposite to that another
dedicated to St. Lorenzo. In the octagon, the view from
thence of the Lake Bolseno beautiful. The road from
Montefiascone to Viterbo very good.
Friday, I9th. The road from Viterbo to Eonciglione
the whole way through an ugly, wretched country, appa-
rently without either cultivation or inhabitants ; bare hills
covered with fern, except those surrounding a lake. Ob-
served broad-leaved laurel growing in the hedges, and
yesterday a species of jasmine. The auberge very bad as
usual.
Saturday, 20th. Arrived at Kome at twelve o'clock.
The approach to it by no means agreeable. All the
houses in the faubourg without the gates wretched. Found
the lasciar passare lying for us at the gate ; a note from
Mr. Brand directing us to the lodgings he had taken for
us at Madame Trufina's, Strada San Sebastianello. They
consisted of an ante-chamber, dining-room, two bedcham-
bers for ourselves, besides rooms for the servants above,
neatly and elegantly furnished for twenty sequins a month,
including the use of linen and silver.
* Built by Pope Pius VI. at his own cost, as an asylum for the inha-
bitants of the old town, which was afflicted with malar ^.-Murray* Ha
book.
56 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1733
In the evening Mr. Coussmaker, Mr. Pitt, the Mr. Ashe-
tons, Sir J. Graham, and Mr. Brand called upon us.
Sunday, 2lst. Went to St. Peter's. The approach to
it most magnificent and striking, not from the immense
size of the building, which, it has been often and most
justly observed, does not at first strike you as very extra-
ordinary, but from its regularity and the beauty and rich-
ness of its front. The same is observable in the inside ;
the grandeur of the coup d'ceil does not seem to proceed
from its immense length, but the magnificence and sym-
metry of the ornaments. Walked through the great aisles,
merely to get a general idea of the whole. Sent our
letters from Miss Gore to Baroness Dieden. In the even-
ing to the Comtesse Scarowska,* Madame Navasittzoff, and
Mons. Santini ; Sir George and Lady Warren,f Mr. Couss-
maker, Baron and Baroness Dieden, Mr. Hallet, Mr. Pet-
tingal, Mr. Eepington, Sir J. Graham, and Mr. Brand.
Monday, 22nd. Went to the Campidoglio. In the
evening visited Lady Knight,J Madame Scarowska, Lady
Warren.
Tuesday, 23rd In the morning at St. Peter's, and to
see Angelica Kauffman's pictures. In the evening, at the
Princess Santa Croce's conversazione, we were presented by
* It is probable that Miss Berry may have written this name of Scarowska
for that of Skavronsky, well known in the history of Russia ; and in 1791
the Russian minister at Naples was Count Paul Skavronsky.
f Sir George Warren, made KB. 1761 ; married Jane, daughter of
Thomas Revel, Esq., East Mitcham, Surrey. Their only daughter and heir
married, in 1777, Viscount Bulkeley ; died 1826.
J Mother of Miss Cornelia Knight, whose ' Memoirs ' were published in
1861.
Mary Angelica Kauffman, born 1740, at Coire in Switzerland. She
was instructed in painting by her father, who took her for further improve-
ment to Italy. From Venice she accompanied Lady Wentworth to England,
where she received the most liberal patronage, and became a Member of the
Royal Academy. She married, 1781, A. Zucchi, a Venetian artist ; died at
Rome, 1807. During Joseph II.'s visit to Rome, he purchased two pictures
from this celebrated artist. Biographic Univcrselle.
I783 ^ VISIT ST. PETER'S. 57
Lady Warren to Cardinal Bernis.* The emperor f there
he had arrived about midday in Eome without any cou-
rier, entirely unexpected either by the pope or by his
own minister. Half an hour after he arrived he had a
long conference with the pope, and went with him and
prayed in St. Peter's. Two cushions were put down for
them, side by side ; the emperor put his aside, and knelt
upon the bare stones. His countenance is lively and
pleasing, and his manner easy and affable; his whole
deportment, however, is not, I think, without a degree of
pride which would prevent one's ever forgetting the
emperor in Comte Falkenstein. Supped at LadyWar-
ren's with a number of English. Began Italian with Signor
Dalmazzoni, at six sequins a month, to come every day
to one or other of us.
Thursday, 25th. Went to St. Peter's with the Coun-
tess Scarowska to see the pope perform high mass. A
part of the choir was divided from the rest by hangings
* Bernis, Francis Joachim de Pierres, Count of Lyons, and a cardinal and
statesman of France, born at Marcel de 1'Ardeche, 1715, of an ancient family,
patronised by Cardinal de Fleury, then prime minister, but refused promo-
tion on account of his indifferent morals. ' You can have no expectation of
promotion while I live/ said the Cardinal. ' Sir, I can wait,' replied the
young abbe", making a profound bow. He was afterwards introduced by
Madame Pompadour to Louis XV. He was ambassador from France to
Venice ; but, falling out of favour, resigned his mission, and went into
exile; returned to France in 1764, and made archbishop of Alby ; and, five
years afterwards, was sent ambassador to the court of Rome. During his
residence there, his house was the general rendezvous of strangers of dis-
tinction, and many English travellers bore testimony to his hospitality. In
1791 the aunts of Louis XVI., driven from their country by the Revolution,
took up their abode for a time with him. The Revolution robbed him :ils.i
of his possessions, as he refused to take the oaths then required. The court
of Spain settled a pension on him. He died at Rome, November 17! U. in
the 80th year of his age. His poems gave him admission into the French
Academy before he rose in the world. Frederick the Great ridiculed his
poetry in the following line : ' Evitez de Bernis la sterile abondance.' Vol-
taire had a high opinion of Bernis' talents ; their correspondence was pub-
lished in 1799. The cardinal's works, in verse and in prose, have been often
printed. Extracted from Chalmers' Biographical Dictionary.
t The Emperor of Germany, Joseph, second son of Francis and Maria
Theresa.
58 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1783
of crimson velvet, fringed with gold, at the upper end of
which was the pope's throne, under a canopy of the same
materials, and opposite to it the altar under the great
baldequin. On one side was another great chair, up
several steps, under a canopy, in which the pope first
made his appearance and dressed himself before he went
to the throne. The floor was covered with green cloth,
and the steps up to the altar with a very fine carpet,
embellished with the present pope's arms ; and on each
side, from the chair where he was dressed up to the
throne, were three rows of benches for the cardinals,
bishops, and prelates. The cardinals sat in the second,
and under them the prelates, who each held the mitre of
the cardinals under whom they sat.
The emperor and the King of Sweden,* who had
arrived the night before, were both there. There was a
gallery prepared for them, but they did not choose to
make use of it, and stood together against one of the
pillars of the great baldequin facing the pope's throne.
The emperor's deportment was the most serious and
respectful that can be imagined ; he spoke very little,
was attentive to what was going on, knelt when the
rest of the people knelt, crossed himself twice, and had
every external mark of decent devotion. The King of
Sweden talked a great deal, was more eager to see every
part of the show, knelt more awkwardly, and bowed less
low. It is impossible for me to remember in their order,
or attempt to describe, the various manoeuvres of the
grandest and best-acted pantomime that can be imagined.
The pope, after he had had a robe of some sort of
light white silver tissue and several other habiliments
* Gustavus III., born 1746, ascended the throne 1771. A conspiracy
was formed against him by Counts Horn and Ribbing, Colonel Lilienhorn,
and a nobleman named Ankerstroem, who undertook to murder him ; he
chose a masked ball at Stockholm as the best opportunity for carrying out
his intention, and on the 16th of March, 1792, he shot the king through the
body. He expired on March 29th.
HIGH MASS AT ST. PETER'S. 59
put upon him in the chair on one side, and a mitre
(exactly like one of gilt paper) upon his head, went up
to his throne, his train borne by four prelates. Here
he chanted a part of the service in a very audible voice,
one man, upon his knees, supporting the book before
him; another, kneeling (though it is broad daylight),
holding a large lighted taper; a third standing by to
prompt him, in case his infallibility should go wrong ;
and a fourth to turn the leaves of the book, for he is al-
lowed to do no one thing for himself. His mitre is taken
off his head always before he begins to pray or read, and
replaced when he has done. His petticoats are settled
about his feet every time he gets up or sits down ; his
gloves are pulled off and put on for him ; and when he
held out his hands to give a blessing, the sleeve of his
robe was held out of his way. Two priests of the Greek
Church read a part of the service, standing on one side,
and holding their book in their hands, and then, after
kneeling two or three times, kissed the pope's foot (as did
the prelates), and then seated themselves round the lowest
step of his throne. The cardinals, when they approached
him, he crossed and embraced. The only man seated
near him was the cardinal archbishop assistant, who sits
upon a sort of stool with a low back close by the throne.
Three times in the course of the ceremony the pope
washed his hands. Water was brought him in a gold
basin, covered with a white satin mantle, and preceded
by two people with maces in their hands, and followed
by two more with napkins. After chanting and praying
by turns several times, and performing various other cere-
monies, he went to the altar, elevated the host, and took
the sacrament himself. In the meantime the cardinal-
assistant went round with the incense to all the other car-
dinals ; to each separately he made a bow, which was
returned ; then giving him three or four puffs of the
incense, another mutual bow, and then on to the next.
60 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1733
When he had gone round, he gave the incense to some
bishop or prelate, who went through the same ceremony
with him. The pope then returned to his throne, where
the wafer and wine were brought to him, and he admi-
nistered the sacrament first to the cardinals, represented by
so many of them ; then to the Eoman princes, represented
by Prince Colonna, whose duty is always to be by the
throne of the pope ; and then to the populus Romanus,
represented by four people (of what sort I know not) in
yellow and red robes quantum mutatus ab illis ! After
this he read a Latin homily, which lasted about ten
minutes ; he looked very little at his book, and* delivered
himself with great expression and vehemence. He then
went again to the altar and prayed, had the tiara or triple
crown put upon his head, prayed again, and then was
seated in a chair placed upon poles, and carried by ten or
twelve men dressed in crimson, preceded by his guards,
down the middle aisle of the church. By this time he
was so completely tired with the long operations he had
gone through, that he could hardly lift up his hand to
give his benedictions to the crowd which surrounded him.
There are two rows of benches for ladies placed on
one side within the circle of guards ; the gentlemen stand
on each side about the pillars of the baldequin ; every-
body is obliged to have their heads dressed, and the
ladies are all in veils. We saw so ill from the benches,
that we got permission to go up into one of the galleries
over the four great niches of the dome, where we had a
perfect view of everything that was going on.
This gallery, which appeared from the body of the
church as if fifty steps would have conducted us to it,
was at a very considerable height ; the people in the body
of the church looked quite little from it ; but the view of
that noble building, with an immense crowd of people,
though riot a quarter filling the great aisle, was a magnifi-
cent spectacle, and gave one some idea of its enormous
1783 J THE PALAZZO COLOXXA. 61
size. Mass was performed at the same time at almost
every chapel in the church, but they seemed to have no
more to do with the business that was going on at the
great altar than if they had been in another part of the
town.
Went afterwards to Santa Maria Maggiore, where a
piece of the creche in which our Saviour was born is
always exposed for so many days at Christmas on the
great altar, in a fine gilt case, in which through glass you
see the pieces of holy wood ; it is in general kept in a
subterraneous chapel, and is carried with great pomp and
a long function at midnight on Christmas Eve, and placed
on the great altar. The church is beautiful ; the great
aisle put me something in mind of the Assembly Eoom
at York, though it is in much superior taste ; the church
being dressed, the beautiful marble pillars were all
covered with crimson damask.
Went to the church of a convent at the Capitol, where
was a representation of our Saviour in the manger and
the adoration of the shepherds, by very well-dressed
puppets half as large as life ; the church was darkened,
and the scenery behind the show all lighted up in the
exact style of a punchinello theatre. Returned home as
heartily tired with staring and standing as ever I remem-
ber to have been in my life.
Mr. Eepington, Sir James Graham, Mr. Brand, Mr.
Pitt, Mr. Ashetons dined with us an English Christmas
dinner.
Friday, 26th. Went to Moore, the landscape painter,*
to the Palazzo Colonna; the gallery magnificent, orna-
mented with statues and busts alternately, and a vnst
number of pictures, some of the pictures beautiful. In
* Jacob Moore, a native of Edinburgh. He went to Rome about the
year 1773, and there acquired a great reputation. His works were much
overrated when compared to the productions of Claude Lorraine. Edwards's
Anecdotes of Painters.
62 MISS BERRl's JOURNAL. .[17S3
the evening a conversazione and concert at Cardinal de
Bernis'. As the emperor and king were both to be there,
the crowd assembled was immense ; the street was illumi-
nated near his house, and the house completely so on the
outside from top to bottom ; large rooms were crowded.
The king had dined there and came early ; the emperor
not till late, stayed above an hour, and then seized an
opportunity when he was speaking to no one, and darted
off faster than anybody could attempt to follow him. He
was as usual in his green regimentals, undistinguished by
any star, and spoke to everybody he knew most affably,
not much to the king, but a great deal to the cardinal.
There was a supper for the king, some of his suite ; very
few ladies, and no English.
Saturday, 27th. Saw the Pantheon, the Stanze di
Eafaelli in the Vatican, and St. Peter's for the fourth
time. The portico of the Pantheon so surrounded with
beggars and wretched objects of every sort, that it
is with the greatest difficulty one can stand to admire
the size of the columns ; the shape of the Eotunda is
beautiful.
The Stanze, painted by Eaphael, astonished me more
than I expected, perhaps because I had been told they
would not strike me at first. Fresco paintings have
always a lightness and beauty peculiar to themselves ; and
these have such a superiority in grouping, expression, and
grace, as must strike the most ignorant beholder who will
take the trouble to consider them.
The room in which is the School of Athens is that
which has suffered most by time and ill-usage. It is said
to have been used as a guard-room for the Duke of Bour-
bon's soldiers, and that they made a fire in the middle of
the room, there being no chimney. A group of Apollo,
surrounded by all the most eminent poets of antiquity
and those of his own time in Italy, most beautiful ; it is
painted in a space which is cut by the aperture of a large
1783] THE EMPEROR OF GERMANY AT ST. PETER'S.
window. It is wonderful how he managed, on all these
occasions, to group and connect his figures so as to make
them all appear concerned in the action he means to repre-
sent. The Angel delivering St. Paul from Prison, painted
in the same situation, has an astonishing effect of light and
shade ; the glory and supernatural light which surrounds
the angel, seen through the prison bars, has the exact
effect of a transparent painting, and it is with difficulty one
can persuade oneself it is not so. The paintings under
Eaphael's pictures, in chiaro oscuro, all done after his
design, and wonderfully executed.
This suite of rooms have no other furniture whatsoever,
and are dark and dirty ; they are those the pope passes
through every day in going from the chapel to his apart-
ments. He passed while we were there ; we pulled off
our riding-hats, made an inclination towards kneeling, and
received a particular benediction.
Walked in St. Peter's ; the oftener one enters this build-
ing, the more one is struck with the magnificence of the
whole, and the proportion and beauty of the component
parts. Went down to the tomb of St. Peter and St. Paul ;
it is lined with the finest marbles, and there are six lamps
always burning within the cupboard where the silver-gilt
box is kept, in which are the ashes of the two apostles.
The emperor, with one attendant only, was walking
about, staring like ourselves ; having seen us the night
before, he came up and spoke to us for about ten
minutes. The people about soon discovered who he
was, and he had immediately a train of three or four
hundred beggars after him, which speedily drove him out
of the church; he had given sequins to some of them.
which raised the whole community, and he had a crowd
for ever round his lodgings, an indifferent house at the
corner of the Piazza di Spagna. He refused to lodge at
his own minister's, and would neither dine nor sup with
anybody.
64 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [irsa
Sunday ', 28^A. Went to the Colosseum ; it is sur-
rounded by turf, and, though within the walls of Borne,
seems to be quite in the country. Its size, though I had
seen models and views of it, and expected it great, sur-
prised me one can easily conceive it holding ' uncrowded
nations in its womb.' The arena is covered with turf,
and there is a large cross in the middle, and I know not
how many little chapels all round it, to sanctify and make
it holy ground. The Arch of Constantine is close by, the
bassi relievi upon the upper part very little damaged,
and most beautiful ; the ground is so much raised about
it, that half the bases of the columns are buried.
Walked from thence by the Arch of Titus, through the
Campo Vaccino (the Forum of the Romans), to the Arch
of Severus ; the ground here is so much raised, that in
Severus's Arch half the shafts of the columns are buried,
and the three pillars of Jupiter Tonans, just by it, are not
a fourth part out of the ground. In the Campo Vaccino
one more especially feels oneself in ancient Home, sur-
rounded at every turn by monuments of Eoman grandeur.
The three admired columns of Jupiter Stator stand in the
midst of much dirt ; neither their base nor plinth is above
ground. They have put iron round and between them,
that they may as long as possible escape the injuries of
time.
Monday, 29th. Walked through the Vatican library ;
the keeper not being there, we could only look with as-
tonishment at the range of apartments in which it is con-
tained. The rooms are all plain, one excepted, painted in
fresco by - ,* and the books are all in painted wooden
presses.
The Sistine Chapel is where the pope hears mass every
Sunday. The ceiling is painted by Michel Angelo with
stories from the Old Testament, and the whole side
* Scipione Cajetani, Paris Xogari ; Cesare Xebbia.
1783] TRAJAN'S COLUMN. 65
of the chapel is covered with his famous Last Judgment,
it has almost lost its colours ; and though the ideas and
imagination of such a piece are astonishing, and the ana-
tomy of the figures immediately strike one as remarkable,
one wonders, but is not charmed.
In the evening, the Opera Aliberti. Theatre much
ornamented, and cleaner than most Italian theatres ; the
scenery excellent. Had I not before known that no
women are admitted upon the stage in Eome, I should
not perhaps have found it out ; the men who act there
are so well dressed, and made up with red and white,
and are so much less awkward than might be expected ;
the danseuses detestable. King of Sweden sat above half
an hour in our box.
Tuesday, 30*/i. Went to the top of Trajan's Column,
160 steps. They are hewn out of the same block with
the Pillar, and neither dark nor dirty. The base of the
column is above twenty feet below the surface of the
street where it stands. It is enclosed with a modern
brick wall, like a well, round it, the base beautifully
ornamented with military trophies ; and the basso-relievos
upon the pillar, in spite of the injuries of time, won-
derful.
Palazzo Eospigliosi. On the ceiling of a casino in the
garden is Guide's famous Aurora, painted in fresco ; it is
in good preservation, and its grace, gaiety, and appear-
ance of motion exceed either imagination or description.
In another room in the same casino, a large picture
by Domenichino David, Saul, and a group of females
the figure of David dignified and beautiful
palace, Guido's Andromeda chained to the Rock; heads
the Twelve Apostles, and our Saviour by Rubens; and
the Five Senses of Carlo Cignani, expressed by a female
ficnire with five children-one she is suckling a not u
holds a rose to her nose, a third rings a little bell at her
ear, &c. Opera at the Argentina.
VOL. I. F
66 MISS BEEEY'S JOURNAL.
Saw the ancient granite Obelisk, which is taken from
the mausoleum of Augustus, and going to be erected
between the two horses on Monte Cavalli, with a foun-
tain before it ; and for which purpose the horses have
been turned, from standing thus | | , side by side, to
stand / \ .* Workmen were polishing the pillar, and
mending it where it had been broken.
Went through the Colonna Gardens.f There remain
in the gardens two immense blocks of white marble,
pieces of a frieze and cornice belonging to the ancient
building, the size and workmanship of which may serve
to give an idea of its former magnificence.
* Mr. Murray states, in his ( Handbook of Rome/ that this obelisk was
here erected in 1786, by Antinori, in the pontificate of Pius VI. He also
mentions that ' the statues were restored and placed as we now see them by
Antinori, in the time of Pius VI.' It would appear, by Miss Berry's
journal, that both changes were made in 1783.
t The Colonna Palace was begun by Otto Colonna. He was elected pope
on St. Martin's Day, and took the name of Martin V.
1784 3 PRESENTED TO THE POPE.
67
JOURNAL.
1784.
Thursday, January 1, 1784. Presented to the Pope
by the Princess Santa Croce, together with the Marquise
Montefermeil and the Comtesse Stolberg, a Danish cha-
noinesse. We were all full dressed with black gauze veils.
We were to have been in St. Peter's before twelve o'clock,
but one of the ladies not being ready, we did not get
there till near one, and were therefore obliged to wait in
the chapel of the St. Sacramento till the Pope had done
his prayers in the church. He passes through this chapel
every clay to the Vatican : when he came we stood in a
row, Princess Santa Croce made a curtsey, then went
down upon her knees, and made a motion with her hands
as if to touch his foot : he immediately said ' Alza, alza,'
and she rose. We then, one after another, did the same
as she named our names : he then stood and talked to us,
or rather to her, in Italian for seven or eight minutes,
asked if we could speak Italian, supposed we were learn-
ing it, we should find it easy, how long we had been
here, &c. As we were none of us good Italians, most of
these questions were addressed to and answered by
Princess Santa Croce. He then said he would not de-
tain us longer ; we made low curtseys, and he departed
without giving us the blessing which I expected. He was
attended by a number of monsignors, &c., who permitted
nobody to come into the chapel but ourselves.
Dined at the Senator's : a large party. After coffee,
Sante played and sang some of the airs out of his own
Olympiads with wonderful expression and taste.
68 MISS BERRY'S JOURXAL. [l784
Friday, 2nd. In the morning, the Villa Borghese ;
the outside covered with ancient basso-relievos and statues
in niches, the inside so rich in statues, mosaics, marbles,
pictures, and every species both of ancient and modern
magnificence that, at the first cursory view, one is dazzled
and lost in the number of things worthy of observation.
The ornamenting the rooms all done by the present
prince, who though, I am told, not a man of taste, has
now a sort of pride in making it the first thing of the
kind in Europe, and lays by a sum of money to be yearly
expended, during his lifetime, in its embellishment ; and
he is employing all the celebrated modern artists to fit up
rooms for him. Hamilton* is doing one with the story
of Paris, beginning with his birth and finishing with his
death. Moore another, with landscapes. Hackertf another,
in the same way. The painting and fitting up of the
Fighting Gladiators' room cost 36,000 crowns, and that of
the gallery 52,000 crowns. The gardens perfectly adapted
to the climate, fine avenues of evergreen oaks and fountains,
all ornamented with numbers of ancient statues : they aie
much frequented as a public walk : the day we were there,
three or four carriages were waiting at the doors. The
prince never goes there but to look how the workmen are
going on ; lives almost entirely in Eome. In the evening,
Cardinal Bernis' conversazione.
Saturday, 3rd. Went to St. John Lateran the aisles
too narrow. The Borghese Chapel most beautiful. The
* Gavin Hamilton was descended from an ancient Scottish family. He
resided at Rome the greater part of his life. He was distinguished as a
promoter of art, a collector of antiquities, and as an artist. His best pic-
tures are taken from the Iliad. He published an interesting work, entitled
' Schola Italica Pittura,' to show the progress of art from the time of Leo-
nardo da Vinci to that which succeeded the school of the Caracci in 1797.
Bryan's Dictionary of Painters.
t James Philip Hackert, a Prussian painter and engraver, born 1734,
studied landscape under Le Sueur, went to Italy in 1766, resided many years
at Rome, where he painted views of the environs. The King of Naples ap-
pointed him his principal painter. Ibid.
] 784] ST. JOHN LATERAX. 69
Scala Santa, in a separate building near the church, with
a chapel at the top, which no woman ever enters, and
which is generally locked. We saw two poor men, one
like a countryman, the other like a servant out of place,
ascend the stairs with every mark of humiliation, and
great inward contrition and misery; they said a short
prayer at every step, and kissed every place marked by a
cross where they suppose the blood had fallen : but, to
the disgrace of this enlightened age, or rather of the
Eoman Catholic religion, this ceremony is still performed
by people who ought, by their education, to be above
such fooleries or supposing them agreeable to the Creator.
The Princess D. and her daughter (a young girl) were seen
by the King of Sweden ascending these steps upon their
knees, praying, kissing the cross, &c., their footman be-
hind going through the same operation. It must be re-
membered, however, that the Princess D. is a notorious
bigot, and for these some years past has been entirely
governed by a mean and ignorant priest, who has made
himself more master of the palace than the prince him-
self, and amassed a considerable fortune, and yet is such a
perfect blackguard that he does not even make his ap-
pearance when there is company in the house.
Sunday, 4th. Palazzo Justinian! : the suites of apart-
ments shown are not better kept than an auberge ; fine
pictures, all dust, against bare walls, without frames, and
good busts in little niches, in windows where they cannot
be seen, and placed without any order upon the floor
round the room : a Saint fed by Eavens, beautiful, by
Guido ; St. John writing his Gospel, by Domenichino-
the book supported by an angel, the drapery fine-
face of St. John full of enthusiasm ; a small group of the
Murder of the Innocents, by one of the Caracci, ill drawn,
but the expression wonderful one could not look at
without pain. In the wall on the staircase, a tesso-
relievo, Amalthea feeding the infant Jupiter out of her
70 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [i?84
cornucopia : the figure and drapery of Amalthea and the
ease and nature of the infant beautiful.
To the Pantheon a second time : the ancient brass and
other metal, which covered the upper part between the
top of the pillars of the recesses to the arch of the rotunda
remained till Pope Barberini had it stripped off, and was
going to apply it to his own private use ; but the clamour
was so great that he was obliged to put the money
into the public treasury. The following words appeared
upon Pasquin on the Subject : ' Quod non fecerunt Bar-
bari fecerunt BarbariniJ Supped at the Maltese ambas-
sador's.
Monday, 5th. Saw the pictures and drawings of La-
bruzzo*, a young Italian landscape painter; his drawings
seem good, his pictures too green and gaudy. Supped at
Cardinal Bernis'.
Tuesday, 6th. In the evening a conversazione at the
Princess Doria's, at which was present the Duchess of
Parma f (who had arrived in Borne from Naples the
night before), as well as the King of Sweden : the whole
first story was open and lighted up, the company for the
most part in the galleries, which were filled but not
crowded by so great a number of people. We were
presented to the duchess by the Princess Santa Croce.
She is tall, well-made, like the emperor, but not near so
well-looking, ill and oddly dressed, rather masculine in
her voice and manner, mixed with a considerable degree
of hauteur. The king and she played a great pool at
commerce, and afterwards went to a supper at Cardinal
Bernis'.
Wednesday, 7th. Went with Mr. Moore, the painter,
* Pietro Labruzzi, or Labrosse, historical and landscape painter, brother of
Carlo Labruzzi, also an artist.
t Maria Amelia, daughter of the Emperor Francis and the Empress Maria
Theresa, sister to the Emperor Joseph II., here mentioned, and to the Queen
of Naples. Married the Duke of Parma j died 1815. Duke of Parma died
1802.
I784] RAPHAEL'S ASCE.\SIOX. 7]
to Mr. Dernot's, a history-painter, to Mr. Hamilton's, & c
and to a painter of fans. Bought two of the run. ol
, M.-St. Peter in Montorio, where is Raphael's
famous picture of the Ascension. Like all Raphael's
pictures, the longer you consider, the more you admire
In a side altar of the same church is a picture by
Uiamengo (the putting our Saviour into the sepulchre)"-
the light and shade of the body, and the expression of
the two men supporting it, wonderful. The church
belongs to a convent of Franciscans, in which there are
no less than eighty. In a court of the convent is a little
round temple, with a colonnade round it supported on
granite pillars, erected by Philip III, King of Spain, on
the spot where 'tis said St. Paul was crucified.* The
building is pretty much like a temple in a garden in
England.
Saturday, IQth. Saw the pictures in the Capitol;
many seemed to me very bad. Guido's Fortune flying
over the Globe a boy endeavouring in vain to retain
her, a crown in one hand, a sceptre and palm leaves in
the other beautiful ; the Wolf suckling Romulus and
Remus Ri^ns the wolf life itself ; a St. Sebastian,
Guido- one expression of enthusiasm and beauty in
thp .ace, exquisite ; Guido's Bacchus and Ariadne the
figures of Ariadne, Venus, and the head of Bacchu-
quisite. This picture, like many of his, has certainly been
left unfinished; some of the boys in the background stoe
all of one colour, and the ground and rocks are a sort of
grey, instead of their natural colours. It is said the original
of this picture was lose on board a ship, in being trans-
* This is stated in l Murray's Handbook ' to have been built by Ferdinand
of Spain.
72 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1784
ported from some place to another, and that this was a
copy made by Guido assisted by his pupils. The Sibylla
Persica, by Guercino beautiful, but not so charming as
that at Florence.
In the evening, the Teatro della Valle, where there is
an Italian comedy of three acts, and an intermezzo of
music, that is to say, an opera buffa between the acts ;
the music was some of the prettiest of the kind I ever
heard. The comedy, if one might judge from the bursts
of laughing it excited, very droll ; but between the noise
made in the house and my imperfect knowledge of the
language, I lost much of it.
Villa Borghese. Apollo and Daphne in the hall ; Catius,
a basso-relievo, exquisite; Silenus embracing an infant
Bacchus ; Centaur with Cupid ; Fighting Gladiators one
arm broke in two places, the other at the shoulder ; a
Muse leaning upon a pillar of rock ; basso-relievo of
Venus and Cupid rising from the sea, &c. &c. The gal-
lery lined and paved with the finest marbles. Busts of
Juba, Berenice, Cleopatra, Lucius Verus.
The painting the gallery in the Farnese Palace is sup-
posed to have partly caused the death of Caracci. With-
out fixing any price he set about it, and employed both
himself and all his best pupils Domenichino, Albano,
&c. &c. nearly seven years in perfecting the work,
never doubting that the Farnese family, who had em-
ployed him, would settle a pension upon him, or keep
him in their service. When finished, instead of paying
him according to the excellence of the work, some greedy
people without taste advised them, as no prices had been
agreed on, to make a valuation of his labour and time,
and pay him as you would pay a house painter. This ill
usage is said to have so deeply affected him, that he took
to drinking, and never painted anything great afterwards.*
* He was paid only 500 gold crowns, or 12QL, for his labours. Murray's
Handbook.
73
1784] VISIT TO THE FARXESE PALACE.
Sunday, lUi._Sa W the Farnese Palace; the
men s dismantled; nothing remains but a few cen
painted in fresco, which could not be removed; that of
Ae gallery, certainly the most perfect I ever saw by
A. Caracci, assisted by Domenichino, &c. ; not only all the
great compartments, but all the smaller divisions, thermes
ornaments, &c., exquisitely painted. The imitations of
stucco figures wonderful. Of the large pictures, the
Triumph of Bacchus and Ariadne, Hercules and lole
Aurora in her Car with Cephalus, Mercury giving the'
Apple to Paris, those that pleased me most. In the court
this palace are the two famous statues of the Flora and
the Hercules Farnese ; they are both much larger than life.
The Flora, an easy graceful figure, and the drapery which
is beautiful, shows the whole form without affected plaits.*
The Hercules, though appearing overcharged in the
muscles for a man, may justly represent a demi-god im-
mortalised on account of his strength. There is another
Hercules exactly in the same attitude on the other side
the door, called the Nemean Hercules, from having the
mane of the lion on his club. This is said to be a modern
one, made before the other was found from Pliny's de-
scription : if true, 'tis wonderful how exactly the artists
have agreed in their ideas. The ancient Hercules was
found f without legs. Guglielmo della Porta was employed
to restore them ; in which he succeeded so perfectly that,
when the original legs were afterwards found, M. Angelo
declared it was unnecessary to replace them,J and they
still remain. The Toro Farnese is in a shed behind the
palace, much too small to allow it to be seen to advantage ;
* Found in the ruins of the Baths of Caracalla ; now in the Museo
Borbonico at Naples.
t Found in the ruins of the Baths of Caracalla in 1540.
J Delia Porta executed and added the missing limbs, from models in terra
cotta by Michael Angelo. The original legs were discovered twenty years
later in a well ; they are now restored to the statue.
Removed to Naples in 1780.
74 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1734
it was intended to have been put in the gardens, but the
palace being no longer inhabited, it has never been re-
moved. The block of marble most astonishing. Saw the
Farnesina, a lesser palace of the King of Naples, which is
exactly in the same state of ruin as the other ; the ceiling
of the vestibule, painted by Eaphael and his pupils, beau-
tiful as to design and grouping ; but Carlo Maratti,* who
was employed to repair them, put so deep a ground of
blue that it has given the pictures a harshness of outline
not natural to them. In another room is the Venus Cal-
lapyge,f a much-admired statue : the attitude to me is
not a pleasant one, the drapery very pretty. A Head in
chalk by M. Angelo, sketched upon the wall in the same
room.
Tuesday, loth. Dined with the Countess Scarowsky,
and set off all together at 2 o'clock P.M. for Naples, with
a voiturier : we paid sixteen sequins for four mules for
our carriage.
Arrived at Prince Ghigi's palace at Lerici, eighteen miles
from Eome, at 7 o'clock, permission having been obtained
from the prince for us to have beds and everything we
should want there. It is a noble house, delightfully
situated a mile beyond Albano ; the rooms are furnished
almost like an English villa, and surrounded by a large
deer-park full of fine wood.
Wednesday, 14^A. Left the palace, dined in our car-
riages at Torre di Quattro Ponti, where the mules stopped
to rest at a miserable inn. The new road to Terracina
is excellent. Terracina (the Ansur of the ancients) is a
beautiful town, close upon the sea-shore, with fine white
rocks rising behind it.
Thursday, Ibth. Dined at Mola di Gaeta, situated im-
* Carlo Maratti. born 1625, pupil of Andrea Sacchi j died president of the
Academy of St. Luke, at Rome, at the age of eighty-eight, in 1713.
f Now in the Museum at Naples.
1 784 ] CAPUA NAPLES. 7 5
n. lately upon the sea, which here forms a fine bay
-sing behind it, and surrounded by fine oraii-^
gardei. and large olive trees growing almost to the water
edge. i Je auberge wretched: all the poor people in the
town were trooping into a room there, where a man was
showing the representation of a saint in wax : it was the
figure of a poor wretched sickly-looking man, almost in
rags, standing with a book in his hand, most admirably
done in wax ; there was a light burning before him, and
all the poor people were on their knees at a rail round the
figure.
^ Arrived at Sta. Agata before 7. The whole way from
Terracina most beautiful, the mountains all -covered with
myrtle-bushes ; the road, great part of the way, through
hedges .composed of myrtle, laurestinas, arbutus, phyllarea,
a broad-leaved jasmine, and a bush I was not acquainted
with. Picked crocuses and anemones by the road-side, and
observed in a grass-field the polyanthus, narcissus in full
bloom, and in the hedges several eglantine roses in blow.
Friday, 16th. Dined at Capua ; all the rooms in the
auberge having an abominable smell ; we mounted up a
sort of ladder from the upper story to the top of the
house, where we had chairs and a table brought, and
dined en pleine air : the sun shone, and it was so warm,
that the water we were drinking soon became unpleasantly
heated.
Arrived at Naples about 5 P.M. The country .ear it
all in the highest cultivation, fine corn-fields, fuP ;f vines
trained up large elm-trees, and often twisted . festoons
from one to another. The approach to Napleo has every
appearance of that to a populous and great metropolis.
Above two miles from it you enter a string of houses which
join to the suburb; the road is full of carriages, and people
and everything looked gay and bustling. We had written
to have lodgings taken for us, and to have a letter left at
76 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1734
the gate, saying where we were to go ; but gates there
are none, so we entered the town, not knowing where to
go, and were obliged to wait in the Grande Place till
Stuart found some of the English servants : from them
we learnt that our letter had never been received, and no
lodgings taken for us, but that we could have apartments
in the house where Sir G. Warren was lodged. It was by
this time dark ; it was above a mile and a half off, and I
began to think we should never arrive there. Sir G. and
Lady Warren came to see us ; Mr. Brand and Sir J. Graham,
Mr. Pitt, and the Ashetons.
Saturday, Ylth. Out all the morning looking for
lodgings, of which there were few unengaged, and all
very bad : fixed at last in the Hotel de France, St. Lucia,
the rooms dirty and indifferently furnished. In the
evening Mr. Clark and Lady Warren called. Left
our three letters to Marchese Ferrante, Duchessa Castel
Pagano, and Princessa Belmonte. Called on Madame
Scarowsky.
Sunday, 18^. A most violent storm of wind and rain ;
it blew in and broke all the windows in our apartments,
which looked to the sea ; we were obliged to shut the
blinds and dress by candlelight. Dined at Lord Tylney's *
with most of the English who were in Naples, it being
our queen's birthday. Came home after dinner and put
on our bahuts, and went with Lady Warren to Princess
Belmonte's box at the Florentine theatre, where an opera
buffa is represented. The house is small, but gay
and light, almost every box having candles in it. The
opera : most pleasing r^usic of the lively sort. After it
was over, to a masked ' ill at the great theatre. The pit,
boarded over, makes a nagnificent salle, which is illumi-
* Richard Child Tylney, V ount Castlemain, Baron Newtown; succeeded
in 1750, and was the son of iichard, first Earl, and of Dorothy, daughter
of Francis Tylney, of Rotherwick, co. Southampton. The name was
changed from Child to Tylney, 1735; title extinct. Seat, Wanstead
House.
1784 ] CAPO DI MOXTE. 77
nated by a vast number of chandeliers and large wax
candles placed before looking-glass, round the whole six
rows of boxes. As the weather was very bad, there were
not above 300 or 400 people exclusive of those in the
boxes, which were almost all occupied. After taking a
turn below stairs, we went up to Princess Belmonte's box,
and then supped, near thirty people, in a salle behind, of
which Prince Belmonte, as being grand maitre to the
king, has the use.
Monday, l$th. In the morning, went with a num-
ber of English to Capo di Monte. The hill is so steep
that, having only two horses to the carriage, we were
obliged to walk up. No beauty about the architecture ;
within is a labyrinth of quite unfurnished rooms, of
which the bare walls are covered with innumerable pic-
tures, some good, some bad, and many indifferent, all
without frames, placed without order, and most wretchedly
neglected ; a portrait of Parmigiano's Maid, by him-
self, a most pleasing picture; the Deposition in the
Sepulchre, by A. Caracci ; a Magdalen, by Guido ; and a
Saint, by Guercino. In this palace is the collection of
medals, some fine cameos and intaglios, and the famous
Agate Cup, with the Medusa's head on one side and figures
on the other, the workmanship of which, and the natural
beauty of the stone, exceeds description. There is like-
wise a large collection of drawings, and so many pictures,
that before I had got above half through the apartments
I lost all power of observing anything particularly. In
the evening, called on Madame Scarowsky; went to
Princess Belmonte's assembly ; myself the only English
person in the room.
Tuesday, 20^. A violent storm of rain and wind ;
this is the fourth day of the continuance of incessant rain,
accompanied by the highest wind I ever heard.
Wednesday, 21st. The rain and wind continuing as
violent as ever, we did not attempt stirring out ; in the
78 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1784
evening called on Madame Eeventlow, Lady Warren, and
Madame Scarowsky.
Thursday, 22nd. Went to the courts of justice ; heard
pleadings in three civil and one criminal court. The last
very interesting, as the plaintiff spoke very distinctly, and
I understood for the most part what he said. They all
spoke with great vehemence and gesticulation, but ge-
nerally very ungraceful ; all, however, with fluency and
without any hesitation or stammering. There are said
to be 40,000 people belonging to the law in Naples ;
go to the courts of justice, and one can easily believe it.
The crowds of wretched starved faces to be seen there in
bands and black gowns is astonishing : it was with diffi-
culty, though attended by several gentlemen, we could
push our way through them. In the courts that were
sitting the judges were very polite to us : we stood behind
their chairs, between their table and the bar. Women, I
fancy, very rarely make a part of their audience, for
every creature seemed to look round with astonishment
at us.
In the evening, called on Madame Scarowsky ; went to
the Teatro di Fondo with Princess Belmonte ; it was three
boxes laid together ; they can at any time take down the
partitions, which are only hooked on. The Teatro di
Fondo is a comic opera, performed for . the benefit of a
fund pensioning the widows of officers. The music
pretty, but none of the voices remarkable.
Friday, 23rd. In the morning, at the Museum at
Portici. We had time only to take a cursory view of the
rooms. The household utensils, &c., &c., are prettily
arranged. We spent the longest time amongst the pic-
tures, all of them pieces of the wall at Herculaneum and
Pompeii, which have with great care and pains been cut
out and placed in cases with glass before them. They
are to me an incontestable proof that the ancients had
carried the art of painting to almost as high a degree of
17S4] THE MUSEUM AT PORTICI. TO
perfection as that of sculpture. The expression, grace,
and grouping of their figures are astonishing. Their
drawing is for the most part not strictly correct ; but we
must suppose that the first-rate artists were not employed
to paint the walls in a little country town. The two
equestrian statues in stone of Balbus and his son, who
were proconsuls of Herculaneum, and who on account of
their good administration had these statues erected for
them in the town, were found very little damaged. They
are now placed in the open arcade of the palace at
Portici opposite one another. They are, in the ease and
spirit both of the horse and rider, most beautiful eques-
trian statues ; ,both exactly in the same dress and atti-
tude.
In the evening to the Academy. This is a great
meeting, but the company are divided into so many
rooms at play, that the music room is never too crowded ;
it is upon an easy, excellent, plan; nobody sitting in
rows, even in the music room, but in little parties and
circles, as they find it agreeable. Too much noise made
to hear the music,
Saturday, 2th. At shops in the morning.
Evening, at home. Mr. Pitt and Mr. Asheton called,
&c. &c.
Sunday, 26th. In the morning to see the Cathedral, a
very bad sort of Gothic, without any beauty whatsoever.
The Chapel of St. Januarius wonderfully fine, but beinii
Sunday there were so many people there that we could
not well see it: The Church of St. Peter and St. Paul,
in the front of which are two columns ; they formerly
made part of the pediment of the temple of Castor an
Pollux which was overturned by an earthquake in 1
They are white marble fluted, with fine Corinthian capi-
tals In the front of the building are two torsos of
ancient statues, belonging to the same temple and wine
the Neapolitans have stupidly sunk m the wall.
80 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1784
evening, at a small concert given by Count Kosanmofsky,
the Eussian minister. Millico* and La Balducci sang.
Afterwards to the Festino ; supped in Princess Belmonte's
box.
Monday, 26th. In the morning, Portici. Evening, the
Florentine Theatre ; the opera (' Che d' Altrui si veste
presto si spoglia '), the prettiest of comic operas, and La
Cottellina the first comic actress.
Tuesday, 27th. In the morning to the Grotto del Cane,
a small hollow in the side of the mountain, shut up with
a door ; a peasant keeps the key, and has a dog always
ready to undergo the experiment of being put into the
vapour. This poor animal has already had three years
of it, and, at a moderate computation, he has been killed
a hundred times a year. In about three or four minutes'
time, being held down to the steam, he is in violent convul-
sions, and immediately afterwards has every appearance
of being dead : upon being brought again into the air,
his lungs begin to play violently, and in four or five
minutes' time he is perfectly recovered. The steam rises
about seven or eight inches from the ground ; above that,
gunpowder will take fire, a candle burn, and the air is
not pernicious. The steam, and the ground from whence
it rises, is so warm that standing on it is like being over
the steam of warm water, f The Lake Agnano (near
the Grotto del Cane) is indisputably the crater of an old
volcano : it is one of the finest situations imaginable,
surrounded with sloping hills beautifully clothed with
wood. It is full of water-fowl of every kind, kept for
the diversion of the king ; it is the punishment of the
galleys for life if anybody fires a gun in that neighbour-
hood. Walked from thence to Astroni, the crater of
* Giuseppe Millico, well known as a singer and as a composer, born 1750.
In 1774 he sang in London with great success. In 1780 he was attached to
the court of Naples as singer to the king.
f Grotto del Cane, Far. therm. 74.
1784] HOT SPRINGS OF THE PISCIARELLI. 81
another volcano ; it is now walled in, and made a park
for the king's hunting. It is a hollow, four miles round,
covered with fine wood, and the hills rising precipitately
on every side. The inner cone, always observable in
volcanos, still remains in the middle of the hollow, and is
now covered with fine trees.
From thence to what the Neapolitans called the
Pisciarelli. In the side of the mountain, at every cre-
vice, there gushes out a smoking vapour, so hot that
it is impossible to keep the hand near it. At one cavity,
larger than the rest, is heard the water boiling up with
the greatest violence, as if it were close to the ear, and
there runs from it a small stream of boiling hot water.
There are several little puddles in which Fahrenheit's
thermometer rose to the height of boiling spirits. The
edges of all the crevices from whence the vapour issues
are encrusted with nitre, and the boiling water is of a
white milky colour.
In the evening at the Academy. The ball nights are
upon the same easy footing as the concert everyone
making their own little party.
Wednesday, 28th. In the morning with Madame Sca-
rowsky to see two Precipios. These are representations
of the Nativity of our Saviour, the Adoration of the Magi,
&c. &c., by little figures about eight inches high, made
of terra cotta coloured to the life, and dressed more neatly
than I ever saw a milliner's model. These are made
about Christmas time by societies of people, or some-
times by individuals, as a sort of act of devotion ; every-
body has liberty to come and see them. They remain
tiU the next Christmas, when they newly group, add to,
and differently arrange the same figures. It is impossible
to give an idea how much these things please by the
expression thrown into the figures, the neatness of their
dress, and the perfect proportion between them and the
objects about them buildings, ruins, caves, cattle, horses,
VOL. I. G
82 MISS BEEEY'S JOURNAL. [1734
fruit, pots and pans, &c., &c. The perspective, too, is
wonderful, for the scene is generally carried on upon the
flat tops of two or three houses, and you see a distant
view, apparently as far as your eye can reach, of build-
ings, figures, and cattle, ah 1 in nice proportion ; the fore-
ground figures admirably grouped, and much expression
and spirit both in their faces and attitudes. In the even-
ing, Theatre St. Carlo.
Thursday r , 29th. In the evening went with Princess
Belmonte to pay our respects to the grande maitresse of
the ceremony an attention always observed before one
is presented.
Friday r , 3(M. Set out between 8 anr 1 / A.M. for Pom-
peii,* with Sir George and Lady Warrer A. Musgrave, Mr.
Coussmaker, Mr. Brand, and Mr. Cle^.' Spent four hours
and a half in visiting the interesting remains of this town,
which are a good deal dispersed, as they have dug first
at one end and then at another, and left the middle still
covered with its shower of ashes, upon the top of which
are now flourishing vineyards.
This inscription is upon a stone tablet on the lesser
theatre at Pompeii :
C. QUINCTITJS C. F. YADQ.
M. PORCIUS M. F.
DUO TIE. DEC. DECK.
THEATRUM. TECTUM
FAG LOCAR FIDEMQ. PROB.
Inscription upon a funeral monument, close on the
road-side, nearly opposite the entrance into the Casino at
Pompeii. The last line in much smaller letters than the
other two, except the T marked larger in Magister :
M. ARRIUS S. L. DIOMEDES
SIBT. SUIS. MEMORISE
MAGISTER. TAG. ANG. FELIX SUB. URB.
* Pompeii was destroyed A.D. 79. Excavations were first begun in 1755.
17cS4]
TIIE
' TO TIIE Qtfm
Dined under the trees TJ,
it
ame tune, of the fa** ^ and, at the
to re-fertili se
Bel-
to the queen* at f our fiSjWj" to ^presented
a m n 7 S -ere begun to be 5 ^ S OWns or trim-
and milder to work directly n / mantua-maker
for in gown,, which teTeunl T/^ re ^ befo ^
the morning. Went WhP hed at 10 o 'dock in
and took in Madame Ee'en" iwl
of about ten minutes- wfl V ' h had an audience
Aether, and Cd'nlar a ouaT 6 5* ^ Wnt in
queen spoke a 4t de t q f f m hour ' ^e
her manner, and'very &,% *" * * *
iJ- aay. the conversation necessary
and &S*f IV " ^tar of the Emperor Joseph II.
G 2
84 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [i784
upon such an occasion. She was quite alone, the attending
ladies being in an outward room, and stood the whole
time just at the door. After we came out. Lady Eliza-
beth Foster * was presented by Princess Ferrolita, and
Madame Scarowsky and her niece by the Duchesse Castel
Pagano ; but they had much shorter audiences than ours.
Eeturned home ; changed our dress, and went to St.
Carlo.
Sunday, February 1st. In the evening at the Floren-
tine Theatre, afterwards to the Festino ; supped in Prin-
cess Belmonte's box with the King of Sweden ; waited
upon by soldiers, which is likewise the custom at all the
courts, dinners, and entertainments. They were very
shabbily dressed, which one would suppose soldiers often
about the person of a king ought not to be.
Monday, 2nd. Dined at Mr. Morier's, in the evening
St. Carlo, and afterwards to a supper for the King of
Sweden at the Eussian minister's.
Tuesday, 3rd. A ball at court, at which everybody is
obliged to be in domino, most of which were bespoken
in such a hurry that they were not brought home till the
moment before they were wanted. The suite of apart-
ments was magnificent and well lighted ; the queen sat
for about an hour in the dancing-room, and then went
into another room and played vingt-un with the King of
Sweden, foreign ministers, Lady Warren, Princess Bel-
monte, &c., &c. The King of Naples was very little in
the ball-room, but played macao in another room. Lord
Tylney was of his party. Before the queen went to
cards she walked round the room and spoke to us all,
and after cards were over she again walked about the
dancing-room, and spoke much to everybody. The king
* Daughter to Frederick Augustus Hervey, Lord Bishop of Derry, and
fourth Earl of Bristol. Married first to John Thomas Foster, Esq. ; se-
condly, to William, fifth Duke of Devonshire, Oct. 1809. Died 30th March,
1824.
1784]
there.
after
Friday. th _
P era : between forty
at the I mperial
of
f 1 * pl
e '
rope_ t h e architecture J be]ieve '
front the p ed i ment
under the centre of
Angles of which the
^ficent. Not an eighth
the inside ; they are
The furniture of the
?A elegant, all cove
theatre of the pa l ace ,
Wlth
rand staircase is
Umte * e r quad-
is m ^~
mg finished *
degrees.
Deat
carpets. The
finishe d,
The e chape
gay with
notfi ni8 hed;itisal
-g, but, Bto ever^th Lg
of the columns aLst n.
86 MISS BEKRY'S JOURNAL. [17 84
in 1752, by the present King of Spain,* and consists
of three rows of arches, on the top of which the water
runs in a covered channel. Eat our cold dinner in -a
clean apartment in the palace belonging to a civil woman,
who gave us plates, &c., &c.
Eeturned to Naples before 7 P.M. in a continued
deluge of rain. The road from Naples to Caserta excel-
lent, and through a very rich country, producing at the
same time wine and corn the vines growing up and
twisted from tree to tree, and the corn growing beneath.
The trees planted for the vines in the neighbourhood of
Naples are poplars, placed so near one another that in
summer a vineyard must be a complete forest. Went
to a supper at the Marchese Lambucca's, the first minister
of finance ; it was numerous more Italians there than at
any of the other suppers.
Monday r , 9#A. In the morning, Virgil's tomb. The
ground on which it stands is laid out in vineyards ; it is
situated upon the very edge of the rock, and as the
grotto of Pausilippo is supposed to be much deeper now
than it was formerly, it might at one time have been, like
most ancient tombs, by the road-side ; everything about
it is romantic and beautiful. The tomb is of ancient
brickwork, and there are still within, little niches for the
deposition of sepulchral urns, though it is highly pro-
bable much more ignoble ashes than those of Virgil have
reposed there, for there is no satisfactory reason given
for supposing this to be his tomb, and the want of faith
took away much of my enthusiasm in seeing it. Upon
the summit, which is reached by a broken ladder, is a
variety of shrubs and plants, among which the laurel
certainly does not flourish. Whether it disdains by its
evidence to confirm a falsity, or is constantly destroyed
by the too great veneration of the pilgrims to this spot, I
.cannot take upon me to determine.
* Charles IIL r son of Philip V. Died 1788.
1784]
THE CATACOMBS
Wednesday. 17/7, ^^ 1D ~
fr
, but the n lg t e'Tli She then
j suite had bin to p I tir g r Sweden
d - r compliments to her
Saturday, 14$ _ T .,
an immense'buSS Sl* ^ ^Catacombs,
o p o co, to
meda]S) eamsfe &^ ^ ** books,
to be removed Th e ]i' &C " froi f Ca P di Mont
The Catacombs, interest W 7 J "^ finishe4
can remain i n one ', Jjg j cu rious . ^ a
"ecessary excavations madel! h S" 7 W6re at first *
great city, andafterwarlcont"^ ^ ^^ a
Passages ; a custom much ^ ed to form subterraneous
88 ' MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL.
and the matter they had to penetrate was particularly
soft : one of the passages is said to have gone from
Naples to a distance of fifteen miles : they are all now
bricked up, and one entrance only left, as they used to
be a refuge for thieves, &c., &c. The sides of the walls
are full of niches for coffins of all sizes. By the infinite
numbers, one would suppose that a nation had been
buried there. The silence and darkness which reigns in
these souterrains, together with the idea of their being
a place of tombs, make a strong impression upon the
mind. A large cave, used for rope-making, is a great
excavation in solid tufa.
Sunday, 15#A. Puzzuoli, with Baron Amfelt and Mr.
De la Grange. The road from Naples excellent, almost
the whole way, along the edge of the Gulf of Puzzuoli,
the most beautiful view imaginable : upon the right hand
the Cape Misenum, on the left the islands of Nicita and
the Lazzaretto. At Puzzuoli, the Temple of Jupiter Se-
rapis ; an amphitheatre ; an ancient statue in the street,
and the pedestal of another, with some pretty figures in
basso-relievo, much defaced ; three or four marble Corin-
thian columns, the remains of a temple of Juno, which
now form a part of the wall of the principal church ;
the mole, or, as it is vulgarly called, the Ponte di Caligula.
The Temple of Serapis is a curious relic of antiquity;
great pieces of the marble frieze are proofs of its former
magnificence. The three standing pillars which remain
are unequal both in their height and circumferences,
though no part but the capital is wanting to make them
complete. About the middle of the columns there is a
space of five or six feet much corroded, and full of those
holes and perforations which we know are made by a
soft sea- worm, and which gives reason to suppose that at
some period this temple, though now half a quarter of a
mile from the sea, must have been overflowed when the
lower part of the columns were buried in the earth. The
1784] THE SOLFATERRA. 89
rest of the columns of the temple that are thrown down
and lying about have all the same marks of having been
in part exposed to the effects of the sea.
The amphitheatre is as large as the Colosseum at Borne;
nothing now remains but the outer walls and the colon-
nade where the animals were kept, which are a quarter
of a mile round ; the arena is now a vineyard ; ah 1 the
seats, &c., are entirely destroyed.
Went from Puzzuoli to Solfaterra, upon a hill above
it. It is the crater of an ancient volcano, which preserves
its form entire, but has ceased burning : its sides still
smoke through many crevices, and there is one large hole
under which can be heard the water running and boiling ;
the same surely which boils up at the Pisciarelli, upon the
other side of the hills which form the mouth of this
crater. A large stone thrown with violence upon the
ground makes a report exactly like distant artillery,
proving the ground to be hollow. The middle of the
crater is still without cultivation, perfectly flat, and white
like the floor of a room.
Tuesday ', 17 'th. Ball at court. The three eldest prin-
cesses and the eldest prince were present, and, in compli-
ment to the King of Sweden, in the Swedish dress.
Wednesday, ISth. Went to Bai'a with the King of
Sweden. The day turned out too bad to make a tour of
the antiquities that remain there, and what we did see
was in continued rain. The king's good humour, con-
versation, and little attention to the weather, and the
necessary inconveniences attending it, very pleasing.
Supped at the Eussian minister's.
Thursday, I9th. To the Lago d' Agnano and the
Pisciarelli in a phaeton, with my father and sister. In
the evening, the Florentine Theatre ; at the Festino, in
Princess Belmonte's box, to see a ballet by ladies and
gentlemen.
Friday, 20th. In the morning at Cuma, with Sir G.
90 MISS BEREY'S JOUKNAL.' [1734
and Lady Warren, Mr. Musgrave, Mr. Eepington, Mr.
Coussmaker, Mr. Brooke and Parkinson, Mr. Pitt and
Mr. Asheton. Went all in open carriages, and dined upon
the side of the bank overlooking Lake Avernus.
Saturday, 2lst. In the morning at Castel St. Elmo, a
castle upon a rock behind the town ; the view on all sides
superb, particularly that towards Bai'a and the Gulf of
Puzzuoli. In the evening, a ball at court.
Sunday, 22nd. The Corso, which was crowded; the
view up the Toledo of all the balconies and windows,
crowded with heads, striking. Drank tea with Madame
Eeventlow. Florentine Theatre and afterwards Festino, at
which there was a grand ballet of twenty-four cavaliers
and twelve ladies, meant to represent some of the gym-
nastic games of Greece. They were very well dressed,
and performed their parts well. The conqueror pre-
sented his crowns of victory to the queen ; he was very
gracefully raised upon the backs of the others to reach
her box.
Tuesday, 24:th. Went to the Festino, at which there
were two ballets, one before supper and the other after.
In that before supper the queen was dressed as Ceres,
accompanied by Princess Belmonte as Minerva, and the
Duke St. Clemmenti as Mars, and two groups of peasants,
the one supposed to be Neapolitans, the other Swedes :
these, after dancing together, the queen seemed to unite ;
and then Ceres, Minerva, and Mars placed, each of them,
a garland upon the spear of Mars, which Ceres pointed
him to offer to the King of Sweden ; they were accord-
ingly handed up to his box upon the point of the spear.
The garlands were wreaths of artificial flowers with a
motto twisted in with each of them : Au Sauveur de
sa Patrie. Au Protecteur des Beaux Arts. A V Alliance
perpetuelle. There were besides some complimentary
verses printed upon white satin. After supper, both the
kings performed in a ballet, which consisted of eighteen
178 4] VESUVIUS. 91
men and six bears. They were supposed to represent
the hunters of Lapland. Their dresses were very elegant
and at the same time in character, and both kings, men,
and bears performed their parts admirably. It concluded
by handing up to the queen in her box some garlands of
flowers, and a large parcel of Swedish gloves. During
the whole time we were in the King of Sweden's box,
under which, as next to the queen's, they danced. The
crowd below was monstrous, and the whole six rows of
boxes, presenting a front of faces all round that magnifi-
cent house, were striking. After the queen's ballet there
was a shower of verses.*
Wednesday, 25#A. Set out at 8.30 A.M. for Vesuvius,
with Mr. Musgrave, Mr. Coussmaker, and Mr. Clerk.
Went to Eesina in our carriages. Went down into Hercu-
laneum. f Nothing is to be seen but the theatre, as they
have filled up as they went on digging. It is all buried
seventy-five feet in a solid body of tufa : part of the ar-
cades and the orchestra are cleared out, and narrow pas-
sages through the stone, that one can walk the length of
what was the stage, and into some of the dressing-rooms,
where some pretty stucco painting yet remains. Out of
this theatre one of the equestrian statues of the Balby
now at Portici, was taken. There was likewise a statyXr
at each end of the orchestra. The inscription upon '
pedestal still remains ; they show likewise the imprtf
of the head of a bust in the tufa, so sharp it might
serve for a mould. From Eesina we rode for abo
* It is rather strange that these extraordinary exhibitions of
queens, nobles and ladies, dancing on the stage to a public audien(
be mentioned in Miss Berry's journal unaccompanied by any osJ
The ceremonious, formal court of George III. and Queen Chario
could not have familiarised her with the idea of such perform^
must, therefore, be supposed that it was sufficiently the habit at
to draw forth any remarks on the want of dignity and dec(
amusements. Ed.
f Herculaneum was destroyed A.D. 79, and re-discovered in 1713 by t
sinking of a well.
92 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1784
hours upon mules, then one must either walk or be carried
in a chair on the shoulders of four men. My sister and
I were obliged to adopt the last mode. We afterwards
walked, but the excessive steepness of the ascent and the
cinders on which one has to tread, whence one loses more
than half one's steps, is a fatigue which seems to pump the
breath out of the body in five minutes' time. Arrived at
the top, we were most amply repaid for any trouble the
ascent had cost. We were two hours at the edge of the
crater. During the whole of that time it threw up red-
hot stones and scorise, and the wind for the most part
blowing the smoke the other way, we saw continual
volumes of flame, and looked quite down to the mouth of
the crater. The surface of the present cone of Vesuvius
is entirely the production of the last eruption : it is full of
large cracks, out of all of which issue continued smoke.
We crossed several of them in walking round the edge of
the crater to that part where the last eruption broke
through. We dined upon the very edge of the crater,
where we could look down into the fiery gulph and enjoy
the noble fireworks with which it continued to treat us.
The smoke which the wind every now and then brought
over to our side was so full of sand, that it much incom-
moded our eyes, and was so impregnated with sulphur
that it made us all cough. I descended from the crater
to where our mules awaited us on foot, in, I believe, half
an hour's time. The descent is most rapid, but, as the
material on which one treads is soft, with the help of a
stick or taking hold of an arm, one can jump forward
vithout much fatigue. The views of Naples and its
wirons and of the Campagna Felice from the top and
!es of Mount Vesuvius are most beautiful. The dif-
^nt lavas that have run from the mountain we counted
le number of seven or eight, and looking thus down
,on them their course is to be seen like that of rivers
A NEAPOLITAN BATTUE. 93
upon a map. Eeturned to Naples between six and seven.
All the English drank tea with us.
Thursday, 2Qth Went to Astroni, where the King of
Naples himself, without the assistance of any general
officer, reviewed his regiment of Liparoti ; the exercise
was very tolerably performed, the manual exercise per-
formed to music, beautiful. I am told the manoeuvres
were old-fashioned. After the review was over, the men
put off their regimentals, got on short jackets, and, with
hatchets in their hands, went up the sides of the hills, and
enclosing a great space, drove all the boars and deer
down to where the crowd was. As they came down the
hill they were fired at from different stands of hurdles,
where were the King of Sweden, queen, &c. At the
same time they were followed by a number of dogs, and
when fear drove them into the plain below, pursued by
several of the Swedes, &c., on horseback, with spears.
A more barbarous amusement never was practised by the
savages of America. The creatures, who are in great
quantities, are monstrously fat and almost tame, being fed
every day at a particular place by the gamekeepers.
They have no possible means either of escaping or oppo-
sing their numerous enemies, but are driven to
inglorious slaughter, without any sort of risk or dangeiSx_.
upon the part of their barbarous pursuers. They first
enclosed one side of the hill and then the opposite one.
The hunt was not called successful, and they killed forty-
eight boars and three deer. The King of Naples is a
very bad shot. The King of Sweden never either hun
or shoots ; he stood the whole time by the queen, an<
now and then fired a piece without any hopes of killing^
After the hunt was over, everybody was asked
dinner in three large marquees, in one of which were tl
two kings, the queen, the ministers, the English lu<lk
&c., in all about thirty people. After dinner we all
94 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1784
returned to Naples, the queen very politely desiring us to
go up the hill in one of the court caleches, as our own
carriage was left on the outside of the park. The weather
remarkably fine, and the day altogether very pleasant. The
view of a number of people, carriages, and the tents in
that fine plain surrounded by wooded hills, charming.
Friday, 27th. Employed all day in paying farewell
visits and packing. Went to Dr. Cerillo's garden.
Saturday, 2Sth. -Left Naples. Dined at Capua ; lay
at St. Agata, where we met Comte Levis * and his son and
the three Chevaliers de Malthe all going to Eome, and
the Spanish ambassador, Comte Hareha, on his road to
Naples. Supped altogether.
Sunday, March 1st Lay at Terracina.
Monday, 2nd. Dined upon the grass at Torre di
Quattro Ponti. Came by the new road made by the
present pope through the Pontine Marshes, which he is
attempting to drain. The road is excellent, with a canal
for several miles on each side. There are very good
houses built for the post at certain distances, but they are
not yet inhabited. Lay at Velletri.
Tuesday, 3rd. Arrived at Eome. Our lodgings at
the Scuflerina's, the corner of the Piazzo di Spagna. All
our friends in the evening.
Friday, 6th. In the evening, Cardinal Bernis'.
Sunday, Sth. In the evening with the Princess Santa
Croce at Madame Pelluccia's, where there is every Sunday
a dance. Both people of fashion and some of the bour-
geoisie go to it. The dancing is all in the Italian manner,
and most laughable.
Monday, 9th. Dined at Cardinal de Bernis'. Went
in the evening to see the Colosseum by moonlight. It
looks larger by this light than at any other time, and the
strong lights and shades on its broken parts have a
* Marechal de Levis, afterwards Due de Levis.
1784] PUBLIC BUILDINGS AND ANTIQUITIES.
wonderful effect. It is, upon the whole, one of the most
striking and interesting objects one can imagine.
Tuesday, Wth. Began to visit the different parts of
Kome regularly, seeing what is worth notice in the
different rioni one after another. Began by the Eione
de' Monti,* Villa Negroni. The gardens extensive, in the
Italian taste ; entirely gone to ruins. In the house front-
ing the Piazza dei Termini, one pretty draperied statue of
a woman with a diadem ; in the vestibule of the other,
two figures sitting in consular chairs, one called Marius,
the head a little stooping, and a very thoughtful expres-
sion of countenance life itself ; a Neptune striding a
Triton, spirited. In a waste part of the garden they have
dug and are digging for antiquities. The whole soil, at
about ten or twelve feet deep, is a mass of old materials
and buildings. They have got out a number of broken
columns, pieces of marble, and some medals. When we
saw them digging, they had got thirty-five palmi deep,
and had come to partition walls of apartments and
arches. They are to go ten palmi deeper, when, if they
do not find more marble and other valuable materials,
th$y will begin again in some other part. The sale of
the old bricks they find, in all these adventures, pays the
charge of digging.
The Arch of Gallienus, plain and not very interest-
ing; its only ornament are two Corinthian pilasters on
each side, the whole of white marble ; the size of the
blocks astonishing. They say what remains is only the
middle. In the vineyard belonging to the Convent of
Sta. Croce in Gerusalemme are some ruins, which are
called a temple of Venus and Cupid. Nothing remains but
some broken arches, the walls of an immense thickness.
The remains of the Amphitheatre Castrense is likewise
in this garden ; but as we were women, they would not
let us in to see it.
* Borne is divided into fourteen rioni or quarters.
96 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1754
The Temple of Minerva Medica is a picturesque and
beautiful ruin, standing in a vineyard ; more than half of
its cupola remains, but none of its marble ornaments.
The Porta Maggiore, formerly Porta Pnenestina, one of
the ancient gates of Eome, is, like all the others, built of
immense blocks of travertine. The road within not
running straight to it, and a number of shabby buildings
being placed against it, entirely takes off all its effect.
In the same vineyard with the Temple of Minerva
Medica are two ancient sepulchres ; one, from the in-
scriptions,* known to be that of the family of Lucius
Arruntius, the consul. On the arched roof there stiU
remain some stucco ornaments and fresco painting. The
other has been that of the slaves, freedmen, &c., &c., of
the same family. It is without ornament : round the
wall are little niches in rows, in each of which, built into
the wall, is an earthen pot for their ashes, all of which
still remain ; and underneath is a little marble tablet with
the name of the person.
Wednesday ', lith. The Madonna degli Angeli is the
finest church I have seen at Eome after St. Peter's, built in
the ruins of the Thermes of Titus. It is a Greek cross :
four enormous red granite pillars support the roof, and
stand in their original places ; but as the floor has been
considerably raised by time and the fall of rubbish, &c.,
the bases of the columns were buried, and they have
been obliged to put bases round the column, which are
not therefore in exact proportion ; but the eye is not
offended.
The Fontana di Mose is grand, from the abundance of
water which rushes out of three large apertures. The
design of the whole rather heavy.
Palazzo Albani, a Judith with the head of Holofernes,
by Caravaggio,f wonderful for nature and effect.
* This inscription was found over the entrance in 1736.
f Polidoro di Caravaggio, born 1495, originally a mason's labourer, em-
1784] PUBLIC BUILDLVGS AXD ANTIQUITIES. 97
Palazzo Eospigliosi. The lovely Andromeda of Guido *
improves upon one the oftener and longer . one looks at
it. The Twelve Apostles of Kubens noble heads.
Thursday, 12th. Chiesa St. Pietro in Vincoli. Nothing
remarkable but the mausoleum of Pope Julius II. Moses^
in the middle niche, by Michael Angelo, in a noble style ;
though the head has, as has been often observed, more the
air of a river-god than of a legislator.
Of the remains of the Thermes of Titus we could only
get admittance to see the Sette Sale, which are nine large
uninteresting arched vaults, formerly the reservoirs of
water.
The Orti Farnesiani have been very pretty in the
style of statues, fountains, &c., but are now entirely
neglected. They occupy the Palatine Hill, where stood
formerly the Palace of the Emperors. In a terrace in the
gardens they have thrown together a number of pieces of
friezes, capitals of pillars, &c., found in digging among
the ruins, which give one the highest idea of their excel-
lent taste and workmanship in marble. On every side
one is surrounded with the remains of the magnificent
building they once adorned.
Here, too, one is shown what are called the Baths of
Livia ; they are now underground, and one descends into
little chambers, the roofs of which are covered with
delicate stucco ornaments, and painted with a running
pattern of gold and little round and lozenge-shaped pic-
tures at equal distances : these have been carried away.
One still sees the hollow in the wall where the pipes lay
for conveying the water.
The Church of St. Cosmo and St. Damiano, they say)
was a temple to Eomultis and Eemus ; and one is tuki-ii
down to a subterraneous church below it, and shown the
ployed in the Vatican, 1512, as one of Raphael's assistants; murdered at the
instig-ation of his own servant for the sake of his money, 1543.
* Guido Reni, born near Bologna, 1515 ; died
VOL. I. H
98 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1734
walls of old brickwork which might or might not belong
to a temple to Komulus. Its great door is of ancient
bronze, the only one that exists ; it has holes at regular
distances near the edge, where probably some ornaments
have been fastened. It was in this church that the
ancient plan of Borne, cut in marble, was found ; it is now
placed in the wall all up the staircase at the Capitol, but
in such broken pieces that nobody has been able to put
it in any manner distinctly together.
Villa Aldobrandini. The gardens pretty. In a pavi-
lion in the garden is the famous old painting called the
Nozze Aldobrandini. After seeing all the paintings at
Portici, it did not strike me so much as I expected ; the
colours are much more gone than many of them, and the
drawing, I think, not more correct than some.
Friday, I3th. In the evening, Cardinal Bernis', who is
to have a concert every Friday and a supper every night
whilst the King of Sweden stays. A large party of English
dined with us.
Saturday, Uth. Palazzo Barberini. It is a labyrinth
of rooms ; they say there are no less than 4,000, in which
there are too many good things mixed with too many
bad to see them with any pleasure.
The Church of St. Eomualdo. The altar-piece describes
this saint who, it seems, was a hermit expatiating to
four of his followers on the charms of solitude. All the five
figures are in white, the dress of his order. It is esteemed
one of the chefs d'ceuvre of Andrea Sacchi, and is quite
superior to any of the rest of his works.
Sunday, Ibth. Villa Albani. The apartments orna-
mented with an immense quantity of ancient marble and
statuary. Cardinal- Archbishop Albani* had the best
opportunities of procuring them, as he was a man of
taste and learning, knew their value, and had hired for ten
* It was built by that cardinal in the middle of the last century, and
plundered by the French during the invasion under Napoleon.
1784] PUBLIC BUILDINGS AND ANTIQUITIES. IMl
years the ground at Tivoli where stood the famous Villa
of Adrian, from which source he drew almost all the
ancient magnificence with which he adorned his villa.
In a small passage-room on the ground-floor is an ala-
baster column in one piece, twenty English feet high.
A basso-relievo of Antinous crowned with flowers ex-
quisite.
Monday, 16th. Pope's Palace at Monte Cavalli. In
the first great salle is Guercino's famous picture of Sta.
Petronilla. The chapel entirely in fresco by Guido, and
also the altar-piece an Annunciation.
Tuesday, 17th. Went with Mr. Bononi to visit some
of the principal antiquities, with which he is perfectly
acquainted, having measured them all for Mr. Adams in
England. Saw a bit of the old aqueduct, which conveys
what is called the ' aqua vergine ;' * it is buried up to the
cornice, which is now enclosed in the little back-yard of
a mean house. The cornice is stone, and is supposed to
be of as high antiquity as the Eepublic.
Beautiful remains of the Temple of Minerva ; all the
ornaments exquisitely worked.
Arch of Titus. The figures of Victory over the arch
have been worked out of the stone after they were
put up, being in one piece with them ; an ornament of
leaves begun to be worked upon the cornice of the arch
left unfinished. Arch of Constantine. Chiefly compoM-d
of basso-relievos and ornaments taken from the arches of
Trajan. They relate to his actions and victories ; those
executed in the time of Constantine miserable.
St. Stefano Eotondo. This is in truth an ancient
building, and called a temple of Janus, but with ^ivau-r
probability supposed to be a church, built, about the
time of Constantine, out of the debri* of other U-iiipk-s
dedicated to paganism, which were then no longer re-
* Constructed by Agrippa for the use of his baths.
H 2
100 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1734
spected. Everything bears marks of its having been put
together with old materials.
The Vivarium of Domitian are arched recesses, where
the wild beasts for the use of his amphitheatre are sup-
posed to have been kept. Near this place is an ancient
rustic fa9ade of arches, upon which the upper stories
of a monastery are now built. It is called the remains
of the Curias Hostilii, or Courts of Justice built by Tullus
Hostilius.
Thursday, 19th. With Mr. Bononi. Thermes of Titus,
Temple of Vesta, &c., &c. Pontius Pilate's House ; a
small building which has received this name (volgare\
I know not for what reason. It is composed of a
number of beautiful arid richly-ornamented fragments of
other buildings, pillars, friezes, cornices, put together in
the most Gothic manner, without any regard to sym-
metry, proportion, or unity, and was probably so put at
a time when the fine fragments of which it is composed
were more easily come at for building than new bricks.
Theatre of Marcellus -, the first stone theatre in Borne.
Arch of St. Severus ; erected to him by the goldsmiths.
It is too small, and hardly deserves the name of an arch,
but is prettily ornamented.
Friday, 2Qth. To the Tarpeian Eock. I believe one
might almost be thrown down with impunity, the lower
part is so much raised and the upper part so much sunk.
It is all covered with mean houses, so that there is no
particular spot to which one can address one's veneration.
Temple of Concord. Frieze in the inside of the Temple
of Concord the same as that of Lord Shelburne in
Berkeley Square, but larger, which one can hardly be-
lieve. Tomb of Caius Sextus. When built, without the
walls, half enclosed by those of Aurelian.
Mons Testaccio ; a hill near 151 feet high, and more
than three-quarters of a mile round, entirely composed of
ancient fragments of earthenware. As it is not mentioned
1784] PUBLIC BUILDINGS AND ANTIQUITIES. 101
by any ancient authors, all the antiquaries are puzzled
how to account for its existence, and, in my opinion, leave
it an enigma. Some say all the potters in Kome lived near
this place, and that this hill is composed of their rubbish ;
but to suppose that they would all bring it to the exact
same place, or that all together it would make so con-
siderable an eminence, seems ridiculous. Mr. Byres says
there is good reason to believe that it did not exist in the
time of Aurelian ; for that if it had, the emperor would
certainly have made use of it in building his walls, in-
stead of sending, as it is known he did, to Tivoli for
broken bricks and rubbish. He supposes it to have been
placed there some time between the reigns of Constantine
and Justinian ; that as in those later times they became
more curious and informed upon the subjects of physic
and natural philosophy, some enlightened persons might
have convinced the government of the unwholesomeness
of keeping their wine in earthenware, which was sup-
posed to be one of the great causes of so frequently
giving the gout and other obstructions, and prevailed
upon the emperor to issue an order commanding all the
earthen wine-vessels in Eome to be broken and deposited
in this place, which was waste ground near the banks of
the Tiber.
Church of St. Paolo fuori le Mura ;* built by Con-
stantine large and noble.
Sunday, 22nd. St. Peter's. Saw the Pope pray for
five minutes, standing, with his head at the St. Peter's foot.
Monday, 23rd. Tomb of Bibilus. Nobody was al-
lowed to be buried within the gates of Kome but the
emperors and vestals. Bibilus, an sedile of the people
was alone allowed this honour, on account of his go
administration. The tomb still remains, now forming
part of the wall of a house. Tomb of Scipio ; lately c
* Burnt down 10th July, 1824, and now rebuilt,
102 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [irs4
covered.* r Arch of Drusus, without the old walls of
Eome, within those of Aurelian. Tomb of Cecilia Me-
tella, called Capo di Bove, from the ornaments of bulls'
heads in the frieze round the mausoleum. Eoom in the
middle, the shape of an inverted funnel.
Thursday, 26 th. Went at nine o'clock to the King of
Sweden's Palace, to see the Pope pass in procession, with
all the cardinals, &c., from St. Peter's to the Church of
the Madonna sopra Minerva. He was in a great state
coach, with two cardinals drawn by six white horses, not
driven by a coachman, but by two postilions with great wigs,
and their hats off. Several of the Eoman princes attended
him on horseback, and the chief officers of his household
and a number of monsignores mounted on mules. After
the procession had passed the King of Sweden's, and we had
all partaken of the breakfast prepared there, we went with
Princess Santa Croce to a shop in the Piazza di Minerva to
see the procession arrive at the church. We then went into
a sort of covered box in the church itself, prepared for
the King ; but he stood most part of the time in the front
of the crowd. After the function was over, which lasted
above two hours, we all went into a gallery opposite to
the church belonging to the Eoman College, from whence
we saw the Pope again resume his carriage. All the
Italians were remarking how little the crowd took notice
of the Pope or demanded his benedictions : it would seem
a happy omen that he is going out of fashion even with
the lowest orders of people.
Saturday, 28th. With Mr. Bononi to a sculptor's who
is making a monument for Pope Ganganelli. He is a
young man who was the son of a peasant near Venice.
Untaught, he did wonders in the way of sculpture ; he has
" The sarcophagus was first opened in 1781, upwards of 2,000 years after
the death of Scipio Barbatus. The skeleton was found entire, with a ring
upon one of its fingers. The ring was brought to England in the Earl of
Beverley's collection.
1784] PUBLIC BUILDINGS AND ANTIQUITIES. 103
been but two years in Eome, and has already made such
progress as surprises everybody of his profession. A
Theseus sitting triumphantly over the Minotaur might
almost rival some of the chefs dceuvre of antiquity.*
Tuesday r , Wth. Church of St. Eusebio. In the ceiling is
a picture, by Mengs, of the saint. It was the first public
work done by Mengs, and what first gained him reputa-
tion. It is much in the style of Sir Joshua Eeynolds.
To the Capitol. The colossal foot in the court-yard,
supposed to have belonged to the statue of Nero which
stood before the Flavian Amphitheatre, and gave it the
name of the Colosseum, exactly the length of Mr. E.
Conway's height,f and the great toe the thickness of his
body. In the apartments of the officers called ' gli con-
servatori ' (who are four cavaliers elected every month, to
settle the price of all the eatables in Koine bread, meat,
wine,&c. according to the quantity that comes to market)
is the famous bronze Wolf suckling Eomulus and Kemus,
said to have been struck with lightning when Julius
C^sar was killed. Upon the lower part of its two hind
legs is a cavity certainly made by fire ; but what fire, ftnd
when ? No matter ; I like to believe any stories that tend
to a supposition that the Almighty sometimes deigns to
interest Himself in the fate of mortals.
Wednesday, Zlst With Mr. Eonconi, Mr. Conway,
and General O'Hara, J to the upper parts of St. Peter's.
We spent five hours in this wonderful building.
Thursday, April 1st. To several artists' : Mr. Tres
ham, who has published a series of drawings, the hisl
e friend of Marshal C^, ay and .
family and is frequently mentioned, and always favourably, m 1
Wa po'le*" letters He was a distinguished officer, and d.ed m co,,..,.an,l at
*" iss B ^' 9 <^ with him apl>ear3 to have com "
E*, K.A., a native of Ireland. He repaired at an
MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1784
of Sappho ; to a statuary in the Corso, who is repairing a
statue of Venus lately found, for the Pope ; to Mr. Hewit-
son, a statuary several good busts, portraits, but Eome is
not the place in which to admire modern busts. After-
wards to Lady E. Foster, to hear Bianchi * play over some
of the airs of his last opera.
Friday, 2nd. In the hall of the Palazzo Spada is a
statue of Ponipey, the same, it is said, at the foot of which
Cassar fell. It is colossal, but not very good. In the
gallery, the Eape of Helen, by Guido. The idea of Helen
carrying her dog, squirrel, and dwarf along with her,
ridiculous and mean. Death of Dido, by Guercino, a fine
picture, but much spoilt : the canvas seems to have been
originally primed with black, and all the shades are ter-
ribly dark.
Sunday, 4th. Palm Sunday. Into the King of Swe-
den's box in the Sistine Chapel, to see the Pope bless
and deliver the palms : those given to the cardinals were
curiously twisted together like a large staff. The function
altogether is a long and tiresome one.
Tuesday, 6th. The statues in the Capitol. Statue of
Pyrrhus in the vestibule, remarkable for the fine work-
manship of the armour ; it may be called a general in
complete uniform. The legs were shockingly restored
too short by half for the figure and, by its fresh and
perfect appearance in every part, I should suppose a great
deal of it had been worked over. The Dying Gladiator,
early age to Italy. His drawings in pen-and-ink and black chalk were better
than his oil pictures. He was considered a great connoisseur in art, and
purchased for 100/. Etruscan vases, turned out by Mr. Hope, half of which
were purchased by Mr. Rogers for 800/., and the remainder by Lord Carlisle.
He was a member of the Academies of Rome and Bologna. He died 1814.
* Francesco Bianchi, musician, born at Cremona, 1752 ; composed about
fifty operas and two oratorios; appointed Vice-Maestro di Capella at St.
Ambrogio, Milan, and also to a post in the Scala, 1784. Came to London,
1793 ; was engaged at the King's Theatre till 1800. Committed suicide at
Hammersmith, Nov. 1810. There is a monument to him in Kensington
Churchyard. From Dictionary of Universal Biography, Glasgow,
1784 1 THE COLOSSEUM. 105
perhaps the statue of antiquity that most interests upon
repeated examination ; not only the face, but every part
of the body expresses a man dying in great pain with
calm resignation. View it first even from behind, one
would know it was not a figure reposing. It excels,
too, in being a representation of vulgar nature; it is
neither a god nor a gentleman, but it is a man and
nature. The expression is the more wonderful as it is
by no means highly finished. It was found between the
Pincian and Quiririal Hills.
Wednesday, 7th. Colosseum. Eighty arcades in the
circumference of it, four entrances dividing it into four
equal parts, the arcades all going to a centre, excepting
the four entrances, which are made parallel. That for the
emperors, upon the north side, consisted of three arches
finely ornamented, some of which yet remain. From
thence there was a bridge over to the Thermes of Titus.
In all the upper colonnades, against the piers of the
arches, the marks of where stone balustrades were for-
merly fixed are still visible. The windows are alternately
built up and left open ; by some supposed to have been
closed boxes for the noble ladies, where they could see
without being much seen. The truth of the matter is,
there are a number of parts in these noble remains which
all the antiquaries are puzzled to make out. Each has
his supposition, and Fun vaut Men Vautre. There is
every visible proof of its having been built in a great
hurry, which we know from history it was. In the con-
struction of the walls there are several pieces of stone cut
round, and others that have been in other buildings.
In the Vatican Library, 40,000 manuscripts, 28,000
printed books. A fund of 600 crowns for buying from
year to year the best editions of books. The four en
for the medals in an apartment in the Vatican Library
cost 3,000 sequins.
In the evening, to the King of Sweden's box in the
106 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL [1734
Sistine Chapel, to hear the ' Miserere/ There is a long
service chaunted before it begins. Charming as it is, it
did not perhaps quite answer my expectations ; because
when one sets one's imagination to work, one can always
surpass anything that really exists. The scene around,
too, is not imposing ; it is small, and crowded with people,
who are many of them moving about and making a noise.
Afterwards, to see the pilgrims sup. There are many
hundreds both of men and women, who sup separately.
Among the men I saw two cardinals ; and, attending the
women, some of the finest and gayest ladies in Eome, in
a sort of undress, with a cloth apron before them,
changing the plates of ragged wretches who scarce know
how to hold a knife and fork.
Thursday, 8th. At nine o'clock, to the Sistine Chapel,
where there was a long function ; after which we went to
the windows of Cardinal Negroni's apartments to see the
Pope give the benediction from the middle window.
The crowd in the Piazza was less than I expected, but
the sight altogether is a noble one. Afterwards, in an
apartment of the Vatican, the Pope, in imitation of Our
Saviour, washes the feet of twelve poor priests, who are
to represent the Apostles. The Apostles, however, this
year were counted by what they call in England a baker's
dozen, for there were thirteen of them. They were
ranged upon a bench along the side of the room, dressed
from head to foot in very pretty white flannel dresses.
The Pope, after some short prayers, comes in a simple
dress of white linen, and washes one of each of their feet
(which, however, are made thoroughly clean beforehand),
dries it with a finely folded-up towel, and kisses it. He
afterwards gives the man the towel, and a nosegay, made
of some white flowers ; then washes his own hands, and
goes out to prepare to serve them at table.
Their table is in another apartment, very prettily ar-
ranged. They are all seated on one side. The Pope walks
1784] CEREMONIES AT THE VATICAN. 1Q7
down the other side, and hands them over all their plates,
one after another, five successively to each person a very
good maigre dinner of soup, fish, and vegetables, served
upon plate. He afterwards pours out wine and water for
every one of them to drink. His figure, standing at the
top of the table in his white dress, with a girdle round
his waist, waiting till they had eaten some off their plates,
was not unlike that of a jolly cook with his apron before
him ; though it must be owned that this Pope performs
all these ceremonies with as much grace and dignity as
such operations will admit of.
Afterwards we went to another apartment, where the
cardinals dined together. Their table I thought not so
pretty as the pilgrims'. There were a number of covers,
but only eight dined.
In the evening, to hear the 'Miserere' again: I
thought it better to-night than last night. Afterwards, to
the Pauline Chapel, which is magnificently lighted up in
commemoration of Our Saviour's sepulchre. The altar
was a perfect blaze of light up to the ceiling. The
painting of the dead body on the fore-part of the altar
has a fine effect. From thence to St. Peter's, to see the
illumination of the cross : though eighteen feet high, it
looks small and not magnificent in that building. One
sees, too, the ropes that fasten it, which takes off from
the idea of its being suspended in the air ; but the light
it throws upon the different parts of the church is charm-
ing. The great shadows give one a just idea of the size
of everything around. The baldequin in particular looked
twice as high by this light as it had appeared before.
The church was full of people; and every half-hour
three priests from a little balcony in one of the great piers
of the cupola showed the relics when everybody was on
their knees. They were at such a height, that it was impos-
sible to see anything but the looking-glass which surrounds
them.
108 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1784
Friday, 9th. At 9 o'clock A.M. a long function in the
Sistine Chapel, which concludes with uncovering the
crucifix, which is covered in all Eoman Catholic churches,
and laying it upon a cushion on the steps before the altar,
when first the Pope, and then the cardinals, all without
their shoes, walk up, kneel before it and kiss it ; then
follow a long train of monsignores and priests of all sorts,
who do the same thing, but with their shoes on. I could
not find out the reason of this.
To the King of Sweden's apartments, to see the series
of gold and silver Swedish medals he is to present to the
Pope, contained in three large and elegantly inlaid wooden
boxes.
In the evening, the c Miserere ' again ; and afterwards
St. Peter's, which continues illuminated with the cross two
nights.
To the Academy of Arcadians, which was a great
crowd of abbati in a room much too small for the com-
pany. The subject for that evening was the Passion of
Our Saviour. I heard a number of sonnets read : one
treated the subject in a ludicrous style, and the whole room
went into repeated roars of laughter. Eeturned home
tired to death with the pleasures of the day.
Saturday, Wth. Villa Ludovisi. A standing Mercury,
easy and elegant. Famous group of Arria and Paetus, one
of the most interesting groups I have seen in Eome. The
drooping figure of Arria supported only by the arm of
Paetus, admirable : the expression of resolution in his face
excellent ; it is an attitude evidently chosen by the sculptor
for great expression of muscle; a man could not natu-
rally think of killing himself by running his sword in at
his collar-bone.
Sunday, llth. High Mass by the Pope in St. Peter's;
in my opinion, the finest of all the church-shows. The
crowd in the church I think greater than on Christmas-
day. Afterwards to Cardinal Negroni's apartments, to
1784] THE VILLA CORSIXI. 109
see the benediction given. The number both of people
and carriages in the place, and as far as one could see
towards the bridge, was much greater than on Thursday.
Altogether 'tis a striking sight ; but one loses the Pope
in the grandeur of the scene around him. Man ! man ! is
too small an animal to attempt blessing the world from
St. Peter's !
Monday, I2th. In the evening to Cardinal Salviati's, to
see the Girandola. The King was there, and it was a most
numerous and brilliant conversazione, all the ladies being
in gala, it being the eve of the Pope's coronation, which
during this reign, luckily for the strangers, happens
early in the year ; the great gerbe de feu with which the
Girandola begins and ends is noble, and may perhaps,
as it is said, give one some faint idea of an irruption of
Vesuvius : the intermediate figures of fire are not par-
ticularly fine.
Wednesday, 14^. Villa Corsini. Gallery : a portrait
of Eembrandt, by himself. Jesus Christ and the Woman
of Samaria, by Guercino : the figure of Our Saviour
beautiful ; the woman well painted, but vulgar. Venus
dressing, by Albani, excellent. A Herodia with the head
of John the Baptist, by Guido : the countenance of the
head beautiful, but the coiffure too much like a modern
nightcap A bedchamber in which Christina, Queen of
Sweden, died * Innocent X., by Velasquez, a good por-
trait. A Madonna and Child by Murillo, charmingly
painted. Supped with Cardinal Berms.
Friday, lei-Artists, with Mr. Moore. The French
Academy a noble institution : the rooms for the students
are lined with beautiful Gobelins tapestry ; they are full
of models of all the finest statues of antiquity Anybody,
well as the French artists, may draw from t
as
St. Peter's,
110 MISS BEERY'S JOURNAL. [1784
Sunday, 18th. In the morning to St. Peter's the
Sistine Chapel to see the two daughters of the Vene-
tian ambassador confirmed. The ceremony, much like
ours, was performed by the Pope himself; and after-
wards he said mass and administered the sacrament to
them like any other simple priest. They continued kneel-
ing before the altar during the whole ceremony. Their
dress, which was very elegant all white, with large white
veils gave them a very graceful appearance. They
were attended by all their friends. Princess Santa Croce
officiated as their mother, and knelt by them at the
altar.
In the evening, an illumination of St. Peter's. We went
between seven and eight o'clock to the Piazza, where
there was a crowd of people : it was then illuminated
with lanthorns, which cast a dim steady light on every
part of it ; they even contrive to place them in capitals of
Corinthian pillars ; and when every part is thus surrounded
by a line of fire, they say it looks almost like a traced
drawing. About nine, upon the signal of a bell tolling,
in two minutes' time (by all our watches), the church,
from the top of the cross to the end of the colonnade,
was in a blaze of light. A more magnificent spectacle
can hardly be imagined ; it greatly exceeded my expecta-
tions : the whole Piazza, even beyond the colonnade, is as
light as day, and the magnificent building is seen to the
greatest advantage. The lanthorns continued after the
great illumination, with the pans of fire. After taking
two or three turns round the Piazza, we went to the
Trinita di Monte ; but the wind was so high that a number
of the lamps of the dome and colonnade were extin-
guished. Prom the Trinita di Monte I returned to the
Piazza of St. Peter's, hoping to have another look at the
fa$ade in its splendour, but already the wind had extin-
guished nearly half of the pans of fire : the Piazza, which
half an hour before we had seen full of people and of
17S4 ^ MUSEUM CLEMEXTIXUM. m
carriages now was deserted. 'Twas a melancholy scene of
quickly past grandeur.
Monday, 1M. To the Pope's manufactory of printed
linen. About a hundred men employed ; but they cannot
make it answer, and they say it must be given up : it is a
pity, for they have great conveniences in the building for
carrying on any manufacture, and their patterns, particu-
larly those for furniture, taken from the Arabesques, very
elegant ; the best, printed upon tolerably fine calico, cost
about five shillings a yard English. King of Sweden left
Borne.
Tuesday, 20$. Vilk Albani. A Jupiter Serapis in
basalt ; noble character reckoned one of the best things
in the collection.
Wednesday, '21st Almost all the English in Eome
dined together at the Villa Madonna, belonging to the
Medici family, about two miles from Eome : it is a most
delightful situation, but is quite gone to ruin. There
were twenty-three or twenty-four at dinner.
Thursday, 22nd. Museum Clementinum. The cortile
of the Belvidere is an irregular octagon court, with an
arcade round it, in the niches of which are the famous
Apollo, the Laocoon, a Venus and Cupid, the torso of M.
Angelo (not in a niche), a Hercules holding an Infant in
his hand, a mutilated figure called Antinous (the coun-
tenance that of Meleager, and only called otherwise be-
cause found at Adrian's Villa), and a Lucius Verus. The
countenance of the Apollo most remarkable ; it is not so
handsome, I think, as the Antinous, but it has an unex-
ampled and inimitable dignity about it which marks a
god. The marble, too, is uncommonly happy ; it has a
fine polish upon it, which seems to suit the elegance of
the figure. Altogether it does not astonish at first sight.
It must be viewed and reviewed to be enjoyed, like all
chefs d'ceuvre in art. The Laocoon, even upon considera-
tion, astonishes more than it charms. The expression in the
112 MISS BEKRY'S JOURNAL. [1734
father's face and muscles wonderful : the sons have been
observed, with justice, to be little men, not boys ; but the
delicacy of their limbs is beautiful : the arm of the father,
which is above his head, with the serpent round it, was
restored by Bernini, and is only plaster ; those of the sons
are in marble, and badly done. The torso may be fine ;
it can give nobody but a statuary or an anatomist plea-
sure. The Antinous, or rather Meleager, a sweet figure ;
one arm is broken at the shoulder, and the other at the
wrist, and they are not yet restored. The armour of the
Lucius Verus magnificent.
In the long vestibule is a collection of all sorts of
animals in marble ; and in a niche at the end is the statue
of Meleager, with the dog and boar's head : it is, in
my opinion, one of the most beautiful of antiquity.
Among the animals, a greyhound, admirable.
In an octagon room built by the present Pope, the Nine
Muses, found about eight years ago in Adrian's Villa. The
Tragic Muse very fine, crowned with vines, mask and
sword in her hand, leaning with her arm upon her knee,
which is supported on a rock.
Friday, 23rd. Set off at 7 o'clock A.M., with Mr. Mar-
chant, for Tivoli. Stopped to look at the large bed of
reeds with a very thick coat of petrifaction over them ;
almost ah 1 lying upright. Arrived at Tivoli : were lodged
at the house of an Abbate Franci. Went on foot, with
Donati, the cicerone of the place, to the Villa d' Este.
The house was built in the year 1549, by a cardinal of
that family ;* belongs to the Duke of Modena ; nobody
has lived in it since the old Duke of Modena [Francis
III.] in the year 1745. The gardens are pretty terraces
fringed with trees, one below another, but are most re-
markable for the number of fountains, jets deau, and
artifices with water, that they contain. A number of
* Cardinal Ippolito d'Este II., son of Alphonso, Duke of Ferrara.
1784] PALAZZO MATTEI VILLA BORGHESE. 113
Dutch tricks with concealed pipes, which they call the
girandola, is really pretty a large body of water thrown
up a considerable height in one great gerbe. From
thence to Mecasnas' villa, delightfully situated upon the
brink of the hill just over the cascatelle. Nothing remains
but two stories of arches.
Sibyls' Temple. The pillars of Tiburtine stone, which
is all a petrifaction of reeds, still visible in the pillars,
though covered with a thick coat of plaster.
Saturday, 24fA. Made the tour of the valley upon asses,
saw the Temple of the Goddess Tossia, octagon on the
outside. Dined at the inn with Sir G. and Lady Warren,
Mr. Eepington, and Mr. Brooke. About 3 P.M. set out for
Koine ; on our way went to Adrian's villa, about two miles
from Tivoli, and farther on to a lake about a quarter of a
mile from the road, which is sulphurous and always warm-
ish. In it are several floating islands that is to say, collec-
tions of reeds, mud, &c., large and strong enough for four
or five men to stand upon. There was a man upon one of
them in the middle of the lake when we were there, whom
the wind in a little time brought to the edge, where we
were standing.
Monday, 26^. Palazzo Mattei. In the gallery a bust
of Cicero, the only one in Eome with the ancient name
on it ; the nose, mouth, and chin are all modern, and
as it does not resemble that in the Capitol, or that ;it
Florence, which are both finer busts, its authenticity is
disputed. f
Villa Borghese. The Apollo and Daphne, manure, but
the transformation of Daphne charmingly treated, IHT
figure better than the Apollo, which has little of the manly
beauty of the antique. Bernini* was only twenty- two
when he executed this group.
* Giovanni Lorenzo Bernini, born 1598, acquired a considerable reputa-
tion as painter, architect, and sculptor. His talent was very early developed
At eight years old, he actually designed a group, which afterwards proved
VOL. I.
114 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1734
Tuesday, 27th. Museum Clementinum. In the evening
to see the statues by torchlight. Nobody that has not
seen it can have an idea of the excellent effect of this
light, thrown upon them at pleasure; every statue ap-
peared much more beautiful than I had ever seen it by
daylight.
Wednesday, 28th. Capitol, to seethe statues by torch-
light ; the effect is equally good ; it is the only method of
having a true idea of the beauty of these admirable statues,
for both here and in the museum they are mostly ill-placed
as to light.
Thursday, 29th. Artists all the morning.
Friday, SQth. Cardinal de Bernis in the evening.
Saturday, May 1. With Bononi to Palazzo Altieri. In
the first room a machine for perpetual motion, with two
balls. I understand its principle, but cannot describe it.
Monday, 3rd. Dined at the villa of M. Santini, with
Comte Scarowsky, his mother, her niece, Prince Esterhazy,
&c. In the evening the whole music of the Tresca-
tava was performed ; Comte Scarowsky the first violin.
Tuesday, th. Palazzo Barberini. The famous Giocato-
ri of Caravaggio ; the colouring and the nature, and above
all the expression of this picture, strike me as inimitable.
The Magdalen of Guido, sitting, looking up to two angels
in the air. A portrait of Eaphael by himself on wood,
sweet expression of countenance, but, from time, the tints
grown all equally brown. There is not one bad picture in
this room a very uncommon circumstance even in Eome.
A number of excellent portraits by Titian ; farther on,
a dead Christ supported under the arms by the Madonna,
M. Angelo Buonarroti ; the attitude and expression won-
derful; it makes one shudder. Two large and two small
landscapes by C. Lorrain, both much cracked, but beau-
his best work l Apollo and Daphne.' His fluttering mannerism in sculpture
was on the whole injurious to the taste in art of his time. Died 1680. Im-
perial Dictionary of Universal Biography.
1784] VILLA ALDOBRAKDINI, ETC. 115
tiful. An ancient bronze figure of S. Severus ; ancient
bronze whole figures are rare.
Set out at 8 o'clock to Frescati. In the Villa Monte
Dragone, which belongs to P. Borghese, a colossal
bust of Antinous, one of the most perfect remains of
antiquity, not even the nose restored, the countenance
very fine, the hair rather affected, x>r at least very fop-
pishly arranged, two little curls hanging at each ear.
Behind the Villa Dragone are some remains of buildings,
called the Tusculum of Tully, and on the other side of the
villa that of Portius Cato.
Villa Aldobrandini, fine situation. At the back of the
house is a circular faade of building, in which there are
fountains and Gioco d' Acqua. A room on one side,
called the ladies' bath, with a trumpery representation of
Parnassus at the end of it ; a sort of rock, on which
are little figures of the Muses and Apollo, with the pipes
of an organ in their mouths, which plays by the water.
Dined upon our cold dinner in a room at the Villa Brac-
ciano, which is finely situated, well kept, the rooms fur-
nished with printed calicos, and has the appearance of a
comfortable English country house.
After dinner, stopped in our way to Gastel-Gandolfo at
a village called Grotto Ferrato, to see a chapel of a church
belonging to a monastery, painted in fresco by Domeni-
chino; one of the subjects a miracle performed on a
demoniac by a monk of the monastery It is one of the
finest pictures I know, the simplicity and expression of
the figures, and particularly of the boy possessed, most
interesting ; he is stretched backwards on his tip-toes, in
the arms of his father, with his eyes distorted upwards.
Wednesday, th. Arrived at Mr. Jenkins' house "at
Castel-Gandolfo.
Thursday, 6th. Walked to Albano, to the Doria villa,
formerly Pompey's ; the Barberini villa, formerly Domi-
tian's ; in the gardens the remains of a very long colon-
i2
116 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1734
nade, with niches. Walked down to the lake to the
emissary, a stone channel cut through the hill by the
Eomans, to prevent the water rising above a certain
height. The man who showed it set two or three little
candles upright upon a board, which, as it sailed through
the channel, we saw for near half a mile. The lake was
formerly encompassed with a low stone parapet, seven miles
round. It served for a numachia for Domitian's villa,
who there had mock sea-fights.
Sunday r , 9th. In the morning walked to the Ponte
Molle, where the battle between Constantine and Maxen-
tius was fought.
Monday r ,Wth. Palazzo Colonna. Titian's famous Venus
and Adonis ; its companion, the Ganymede, carried up to
heaven by the eagle, spirited and admirable. Luther and
Calvin, by Titian ; wonderful portraits. A cabinet of
ebony, with ivory basso-relievos, representing scripture
histories, a most delicate and exquisite work of the kind ;
it was bought from our Charles I. In the gallery, the
statue of Germanicus, with his hand up ready to throw it
out, as playing at moro, a game which, it is said, he
invented to amuse his army. The Madonna finding the
dead Body of Jesus (Guercino), the best painted, best
treated, and most affecting of that sort I have seen; it
is striking for the simplicity of the composition, the dead
body sitting supported by a stone, and the animated
attitude and grief of the Madonna ; the drapery is rich
and simple ; the scene of the cave or sepulchre, and the
distant view of the cross, upon a wild heath, all conspire
to add to the melancholy and wonderful effect of the
picture.
In another apartment, the famous portrait of the Cenci,
in the dress in which (they say) she was executed ; it is
called by Guido, but is not in his manner ; the real
painter is probably unknown. The expression of the face
is most beautiful, and the history makes it affecting. I
1784] FAKE WELL VISITS. 117
never saw one of all its numerous copies that gave a tale
the tone, expression, or grace of the countenance.
In the evening drank tea at Villa Madonna with Mr.
Conway, Mr. Campbell, Mr. Meares, Mr. Bemington, Mr.
Giffard, Mr. Byres, and Mr. Tresham.
Wednesday, 12th. Borghese Palace. Among the pic-
tures, Domenichino's Sibyl, or St. Cecilia, a small St.
Catherine, standing leaning against the wheel, by Eaphael,
Titian's Three Graces binding Cupid, were amongst those
that struck me most. The boys are more graceful than
the Graces.
In the afterooon, to the Villa Marafosci, to see a statue
of a sleeping figure, called an Endymion, lately found in a
cava at ^Adrian's villa. The figure is lying at length and
in perfect repose.
Thursday, 13th. Went to see Prince Piombini's col-
lections of gems. Among a great many bad ones, there
are some few very pretty : a large head of Augustus in
cameo, a group fighting for the dead body of Patroclus,
in intaglio.
The English dined with us in the evening.
Friday, Uth. In the evening to Madame d'Albany's.*
Monday, llth. In the morning went to take leave of
the Museum Clementinum ; saw the sarcophagus of St.
Helena, the mother of Constantine, which is repairing for
the Pope : the design of the sculpture is odd. Armed
men on horseback galloping over the heads of prisoners
on their knees.
Tuesday, ISth. To take leave of and the Capitol, the
Colosseum, with Canova the sculptor.f
* Louisa Maximiliana de Stolberg, afterwards known by the name of
Countess d' Albany, wife of the Pretender, after the death of Charles Ed-
ward in 1788. She travelled in Italy and France, and with her Alfieri the
poet, to whom she was supposed to be married. She resided at Paris until
driven by the Revolution to take refuge in England. (Walpotis Letters,
p. 316.) In 1820 she was supposed to be married to John Fabre, a French
painter of talent. P. 322. Cunningham's edit, of H. Walpoles Letters.
f Antonio Canova, the son and grandson of a sculptor, was born 1757, at
118 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1734
In the evening, to take leave at Madame d' Albany's,
at Princess Santa Croce's, and at Lady Murray's.
Wednesday, 19th. In the evening, St. Peter's to take
leave. All our English friends with us till past 10 ;
afterwards called upon Madame Scarowsky and Lady
Elizabeth Foster.
Thursday, 20th. Left Eome between 4 and 5 o'clock
A.M. with a voiturier for Florence by Terni. Arrived at
Civita Castellano ; it is a small town and fortress of the
Pope's, in a most romantic situation. This was the
Phalissas of the ancients, which stood a siege of two years
by Lucius Camillus ; it is strongly fortified by nature.
The Pope's garrison in the present fortress consists only
of thirty men.
Friday, 21st. Arrived at Terni. General O'Hara and
Mr. Conway passed us upon the road ; spent the evening
with us.
Saturday, 22nd. The General and Mr. Conway break-
fasted with us between 4 and 5 o'clock, and set out
with us immediately afterwards in two caleches to see the
cascade; it is five miles from Terni. From the rock there
is a good view of it, and one little lodge with steps down
the hill was built for the present Pope, but he has never
been there yet. The country all about the cascade is most
romantic. We returned in our caleches to Papigno, a village
in the road to Term, from whence we set out on foot to
view the cascade from below ; it is a walk of four good miles
there and back again ; it was hot and was rather fatiguing,
but we were well compensated not only by the grand ap-
pearance of the cascade, but by the beauty of the walk
Possagno, a village at the foot of the Venetian Alps. He was an orphan at
three years old, and was instructed in his art by his grandfather. He first
visited Rome in 1780. His first work there was ( Theseus conquering the
Minotaur.' From that time his fame was established. He settled at Rome
in 1783. His genius secured him the admiration of the civilised world, and
his kind and gentle virtues the respect and admiration of all who knew him.
He diel at Venice October 1822.
ARRIVAL AT PERUGIA. 119
itself. The banks are well wooded down to the water's
edge, or rather into the water, which runs round the roots
of many of the trees, forming little islands. Countino-
from the level of the valley, it falls 367 feet (according to
the people of the place), but not in one fall ; after the first
great pitch it runs sloping over two great shelves of rock.
A more beautiful subject for the pencil can hardly be con-
ceived : the froth rises like thick smoke far above the
top, and at the water's edge. We should have been wet
to the skin had we stayed five minutes. Eeturned to our
carriages at Papigno, much fatigued with the heat ; got
back to Terni about 11 o'clock. The people had told us
it would take three hours to see the cascade ; we were
much above six. Mr. Conway and General O'Hara set off
for Foligno, and we for Spoletta.
Sunday, 23rd Dined at Foligno. SawEaphael's altar-
piece in the church of the Franciscans; the composition
is arranged in the regular form and manner of his master,
P. Perugino ; in the middle, the Madonna and Child in
the heavens two saints on each side, one kneeling and
one standing, and a cherubim supporting a tablet in the
middle. Stopped at Chiesa Nuova, near the town of
Assisi, to see an immense large church belonging to a
convent of Franciscans, in which there are no less than
142 of that order. In the middle of the church is a little
chapel, where St. Francis used to pray, and near the choir
another little hovel, where he died,* which is the reason
the church was placed here. Arrived at Perugia between
7 and 8 P.M. Perugia is a more comfortable-looking town
than any I have seen in the Pope's dominions.
Monday, 24#A. Walked into the cathedral at Perugia ;
it is a large half-Gothic building, the roof now painting
very prettily in fresco by a native of the town. The lake
is a noble piece of water the people say forty miles
* St. Francis of Assisi, the founder of the order of Franciscans, born
1182 j died 1224.
120 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1734
round ; there are three islands, on one of which is a
convent.
Arrived at Camucia, a poor inn in a poor village, under
the hill, upon which Cortona stands.
Tuesday, 25th. Breakfasted at Arezzo ; the houses and
people have a better appearance than those in the Pope's
dominions. Arrived at Levane ; inn very bad.
Wednesday, 2 6 A. Arrived at Pian della Fonte in six
hours; the auberge most wretched. The landlady's
daughters two very handsome girls, in the little hats,
white loose sleeves, and graceful dress of the country.
Arrived at Florence about 7 P.M.
Thursday, 27th. Went to the gallery and some shops
in the morning. In the evening Miss Gore came and sat
with us, afterwards carried us to Teatro Nuovo ; Lady
Cowper's box.
Florence : Saturday^ 29$. Palazzo Pitti. Paul III., by
Titian^ an admirable portrait ; its pendant a Dutchman
in a black dress, by Vandyck, almost as good ; they are
both chefs-d'oeuvre. A portrait of a woman by Titian,
the same he painted as his famous Venus. In the third
room, Raphael's celebrated Madonna della Sedia. It
pleased me still more now than it did before ; both the
lines and colouring of it are beautiful. Above it, Leo X.,
with two cardinals, by the same painter, in a colour-
ing as rich and deep as Titian's. Four bourgmestres, or
councillors, sitting at a table, by Eubens, one of the
clearest and most lively pictures I ever saw. Julius II.,
by Eaphael, wonderfully coloured. Cardinal Bentivo-
glio, by Vandyck, a fine portrait, the countenance one
of the most penetrating I ever beheld. Under it a por-
trait by Paul Veronese, in a black robe lined with fur,
which is wonderfully well expressed in a very rude manner.
A portrait of a young boy of the House of Medici,
Vandyck, beautiful countenance. A Madonna and Child
in her arms, attended by two saints on each side, and two
1784 J GINORI'S CHINA MANUFACTORY. 121
angels in front reading a scroll, by Eaphael in his first
manner, in my opinion, more pleasing than his second,
though in general the grouping of the figures is arranged
with the regularity of dishes upon a table. The Eeturn
of the Prodigal Son, by Bronzino, a fine picture: the
father is receiving him out of a boat an uncommon idea
of the subject. Calvin and Luther, by Georgone di Castel-
franco, finely painted, though turned brown.
In the evening Lady Cowper and Miss Gore carried us
to Sir H. Mann's.
Sunday, Wth. Walked in the cascini with Miss Gore,
afterwards to the Pergola theatre.
Monday, 3Ist. In the morning to Ginori's china
manufactory, about five miles from Florence. The road
to it is through a country cultivated like a garden, with
every sign of plenty and comfort in the people. The
painting of the china is neatly executed, though not in
general happy in their patterns. The clay, too, is heavy.
About eighty men employed in the manufactory.*
Dined at Lord Cowper's.
Tuesday, June 1. Miss Gore called for us in a phaeton.
Went to a villa upon the side of a hill about three miles
from Florence, which belonged to the late Lady Orford,f
and which she left to her cavalier servente. It is elegantly
furnished, and kept in as nice order as any country house
in England ; it has a charming view over the whole vale
of Arno ; it is one stretch of the richest cultivation, thickly
* In the beginning of the eighteenth century, when the Duke of Lorraine ac-
quired the dukedom of Tuscany, Charles Marquis Ginori established on his
own account, after the example of the petty sovereigns of Germany, a large
manufactory of pottery (terraglia) and porcelain, at Doceia, near Florence,
which met with great success At the sale at Strawberry Hill there
were many specimens which had been sent home by Sir Horace Mann to
Horace Walpole about 1760; it was described and sold as Oriental. Pottery
and Porcelain, by J. Marryat, p. 211-12.
f Lady Orford, daughter of Samuel Eolle, Esq., of Haynton, county
Devon, married in 1724 to Robert, second Earl of Orford, who died 1751 ;
married, secondly, the Hon. Sewallis Shirley ; became Baroness Clinton ;
died 1781.
122 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1734
spotted with white houses and villages as far as the eye
can reach.
In the afternoon went with Miss G. and Prince Chymee
to the Sta. Maria Novella to see an illumination on account
of the first celebration of a new saint's day ; it was the
best-dressed church I ever saw, entirely covered with
new crimson damask and gold lace, and, being a sort of
half-Gothic architecture, did not lose by its finery.
Wednesday, 2nd. Breakfasted at Lord Cowper's, in
the cabinet, an apartment of five small rooms elegantly
fitted up with the finest instruments for experiments in
all the different branches of natural philosophy : one is
dedicated to electricity, a second a laboratory, a third for
optics, a fourth for hydraulic experiments, a fifth for air.
Took leave of Lady Cowper and Miss Gore.
Set out post for Leghorn ; great part of the way along
the banks of the Arno, and the whole of it through a
most richly cultivated country. Lastra, the first post on
this side Florence, is where a vast many straw hats are
made, but they are also made in Florence and through
the whole country between that and Leghorn. At
Florence only you can buy good ones.
Thursday, 3rd. Travelled all night; arrived at Leg-
horn. In the evening to the new Mole, which I was told
by some of our navy people is very badly constructed ;
the streets are noisy and bustling, full of shops and
people ; put me so exactly in mind of Portsmouth, Ply-
mouth, or any other seaport town in England, that I could
not fancy myself in Italy.
Friday, 4:th.- All the morning at shops : they are very
good, but not cheap. Dined at Otto Franc's the banker's ;
went after dinner with Mrs. Franc to a coral manufactory.
This is a great business at Leghorn, carried on by the
Jews, who work, cut, and polish the coral, and send it to
England and other places to go to the East Indies ; saw
some beautiful natural specimens as it comes out of the
water. The price enormous when cut and polished and
FALLING TOWEK OF PISA. 123
made into beads. We saw a long string of large beads,
which they said was worth more than 1,2 OO/. sterling
Saturday, 5^. Went aboard the English men-owar
laying in the harbour, for aU of which we had letters to
the captains from Florence. Went out in the barge of
Capt. Waghorn, of the Trusty, the commodore's ship, of
50 guns ; admirably fitted up for accommodation, the
commodore's lady having accompanied him in the cruise.
Went on board the Thetis, Capt. Blankett, a beautiful
38-gun frigate, and the Rattlesnake, of 12 guns, Capt.
~\ /r i i o JT
Melcomb.
Lieutenant Forbes, of the Trusty, and Mr. Preston, of
the Sphinx, dined with us. Left Leghorn for Pisa ; the
road good, and part of it through a country like the New
Forest between Lymington and Lyndhurst. The inn at
Leghorn good, kept by an Englishwoman, Mrs. Cain.
The Piazza Grande, a fine long square, with well-built
houses, and much appearance of business and population.
Sunday, 6th. The part of Pisa near the Arno is
beautiful; the three bridges all handsome. The Lung
Arno is gay, and there are fine long streets with good
houses, but they look perfectly deserted. In Leghorn
there are 48,000 inhabitants ; in Pisa, which is above
twice as large, there are only 16,000.
The falling tower, which is a belfry, is a foolish bizarre
idea, of which the architects of Italy some centuries ago
seem to have been very fond. Their total want of fitness
occasions rather a disagreeable sensation than otherwise ;
that of Pisa has a clumsy look too, from being much too
thick for its height. The Campo Santo is a fine long
square surrounded by a broad Gothic arcade, built by
Giovanni Pisano, finished in the year 1283. The earth
in the middle, they think, was brought from Jerusalem.
It is a burying-place, where every noble Pisan had a vault;
but the present Grand Duke* has prohibited anybody
* Peter Leopold succeeded his brother as Emperor of Austria ; 1790.
124 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1784
being buried within the town. The walls of the arcade
are curiously painted with scripture subjects by very old
artists, the best by Benozzi, a Florentine painter who died
in 1478, of some of which I had seen copies in England.
In the afternoon, went in a biroccio to Pisa baths, four miles
distant, the road through a rich country ; there is a canal
by its side exactly like one in Holland, the water above the
level of the road. At the baths is a very large corps de
logis, which is let out in different apartments. The great
building and the baths were begun by the viceroy or
governor of Tuscany in the time of the late emperor.
The public bath is lined with fine marble, has a little
gallery with marble balustrades, in which one can walk.
I tasted the water ; it is a little warmer than new milk,
and has no disagreeable taste. Eeturned to Pisa.
Monday, 7th. Left Pisa ; crossed the Serchio in a
boat. Between Sarzanna and Lerici crossed another river
in a small inconvenient boat. It was a holiday, and
on the bank by the river, under the shade of festoons of
vines hanging from tree to tree, was a group of peasants
dancing to the music of a violin and tambour de basque.
This sounds charming, and the scene around was truly so.
I went up to the dancers, hoping to see that real gaiety
and allegresse in all their motions that unaffected un-
spoilt beauty and grace in their persons, which one is
told is only to be met with in the native dances of
peasants, and in comparison with which our beauties in
ball-rooms are cold and insipid; but truth, irresistible
truth, with her broad mirror, too often destroys every gay
fictitious image half-formed in my imagination. If real
beauty and unaffected gaiety are not to be found in a ball-
room, I am sure they did not exist among these peasants :
they were most of them old and very plain, and danced
with such a dullness and gravity that one would have
supposed they had been celebrating funeral games.
Arrived at Lerici : it is a poor town close upon the sea,
1784] ARRIVAL AT GENEVA. 125
inhabited by felucca people. We came to Lerici at an
unlucky time, for there were very few feluccas, many
having been taken to Toulon with the King of Sweden.
After some difficulty, we made a bargain for two small
ones for eight sequins ; each boat had five rowers, but
were too small to be comfortable. The one we were in
just admitted the body of the carriage put across the
boat, in which we all sat ; the train of the carriage was
in the other with one of the servants. Sailed before 8
o'clock P.M. ; we were all monstrously sick all night,
though there was but a moderate wind.
Tuesday, 8th. Landed at Genoa about 10 : our boats
did not sail well.
In the, evening took a little walk in the town ; the
palaces struck me as magnificent, even after those of
Eome.
Wednesday, 9th. Walked through the mercantile part
of the town, saw the Palazzo Durazzo. Three noble
large pictures by Luca Giordano, the subject from Tasso.
Two rooms hung with silk, painted (they say) with the
juice of herbs, by Eomanetti, the design from scrip-
ture history, good. The Capo d' Opera of P. Veronese
the Woman washing Our Saviour's Feet a great num-
ber of figures admirably grouped together, the heads
charmingly painted, but the draperies, though gaily
coloured, in my idea want relief; all the figures in the
group round our Saviour seem equally prominent. Left
Genoa ; lay at Campo Marrone.
Thursday, Wth. Passed the Scrivia (where we had
been so plagued in the winter), a gue, without the least
trouble ; also crossed the Po upon a pont volant. On
entering Pavia crossed the Tesin on a bridge with a tiled
roof, supported upon awkward sort of square stone
pillars. It was a great gala day, the Fete-Dieu ; I was
amazed to see the number of carriages the town of Pavia
mustered together.
126 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1784
Friday f , 11th. Walked into the courts of the Univer-
sity, two handsome quadrangles. Went to the botanic
gardens, made within these four years ; it is arranged after
the Linnsean system ; a number of the South Sea plants.
N.B. The gardener told me that exotic ericas would
not live at Pavia ; that they had often tried to no pur-
pose.
The present barrack for the troops is a great brick
building, half Gothic, half Grecian, formerly the palace
of the Lombard kings. Left Pavia arrived at Milan.
Found at the Auberge Imperiale Sir G. and Lady War-
ren, Mr. Brooke, and Mr. Parkinson.
Saturday r , 12th. Went to the cathedral,* which is an
enormous large Gothic of five aisles ; it is yet unfinished,
and, though they are laying out money upon it every year,
will probably ever continue so ; it is a mixture of Grecian
and Gothic, both bad, and rendered worse by being united.
The nTamberless statues on the outside are a great de-
formity, and entirely take off the lightness and beauty of
Gothic pillars and pinnacles ; only a little bit of the floor
is paved with marble, the rest very irregularly with brick
and small stones.
Monday, Uth. In the evening the Marchesina Litta
called upon us and carried us to the corso and to the
theatre ; it is little less than St. Carlo at Naples. The old
Marchesa Litta's box had on its summer dress : dimity or
white linen, with a border ; looking-glasses, doors, &c.
Belonging to the theatre is a salle redoute, three or four
rooms handsomely furnished, where there is always a faro
table, and people at play. This theatre was built by sub-
scription, and I understand the fonds of all the boxes was
very considerable that of the Marchesa Litta a large
one, 1,000 Louis, besides a rent of 200 or 300 livres a year.
* The first stone was laid by Giovanni Galeazzo Visconti, March 15,
1386. The central tower and spire were completed in 1772. The works
were continued by Napoleon in 1806.
1"84] AEEIVAL AT TURIN. 127
Tuesday, 15th. In the morning went to the Echo
Simonetta ; it is at the country house of a Marchesa
Simonetta, about two miles from town. The house has
two wings ; from a window in the upper story of one the
echo is heard. We fired several pistols: they say it
repeats 40 times, which I can easily believe ; but I have
heard far clearer echoes, as this returns no sound dis-
tinctly, and when given more than one word at a time all
is confusion.
Afterwards to the Sta. Maria delle Grazie. In the
refectory the Last Supper, by L. da Vinci, covering the
whole end of the room. It is by far the finest picture of
his I have seen the only one of composition: it is perhaps
more like three groups put together than one, but the
heads are fine, and struck me both in expression and
colouring, like Eaphael.
Thursday, ~L7th. Left Milan ; lay at Novara.
Friday, 18th. On leaving Novara, just without the
gates of the town, our axle-tree snapped in two and over-
turned the carriage. A parapet wall at the side of the
road broke the fall of the coach and prevented its coming
entirely to the ground. As it fell gently, we were none
of us hurt, and got out with tolerable ease, and returned
quietly to our inn, from which I did not expect to get
away for a couple of days ; but the blacksmith fixed it
together, and enabled us to set out before 3 in the after-
noon. Arrived at Chevasso, two posts from Turin.
Saturday, 19th. Arrived at Turin. Found that Mr.
and Mrs Trevor were out of town, Mr. Conway ill in the
auberge.
Sunday, 20th. In the evening, out of the gates to the
Valentino, a small campagne of the king's, most delight-
fully situated upon the very edge of the Po, which here
keeps within its banks. A gentle hill rises on the
opposite side, covered with trees and vines, and spotted
with white houses. This place, approached by different
128 MISS BEEEY'S JOURNAL. [1784
avenues of trees, is the corso for the carriages every
evening, and a prettier one can hardly be imagined.
After several turns here, they go to another avenue within
the walls near the citadel, where the promenade finishes ;
it is generally quite full of carriages and walkers on each
side the carriages not near so handsome as those of
Milan.
To Mrs. Trevor's box in the great opera house, which
after Naples and Milan did not strike me much. Both
the opera and ballets were by far the grandest and best-
dressed I have anywhere seen. In the ballet not less
than 200 people appeared, all superbly dressed, and 36
horses in two troops, differently caparisoned and well
arranged. After an attack of the cavalry and a long
engagement of the infantry, they all joined in a triumphal
procession, in which the general appeared in a quadriger,
drawn by four handsome brown horses, who performed
their parts to admiration.
Monday, 2lst. Evening to theCarignano theatre, where
there is an Italian comedy; in Prince UsoupofFs box, the
Eussian minister, whom we had known at Naples and
Borne.
Tuesday, 22nd. Intended leaving Turin at 4 in the
morning, but were delayed by the axle-tree of our carriage
wanting again to be repaired. Lay at Suze. There were
so many bugs in the bed that I found it impossible to
shut my eyes, and before 1 o'clock in the morning got
up, dressed myself, waited till 4, when we set off.
Wednesday, 23rd. Arrived at Nbvaleze about 6. Set
out in chairs to cross the mountain between 7 and 8,
arrived at the hospital at the top about 10, took a
lone walk about the edges of the lake. The whole plain
is enamelled with flowers, of which there is a much
greater variety than I ever saw elsewhere. I had heard
much of this, but their beauty, variety, and profusion
exceeded all my expectations. The Prete in the mean-
time prepared us an excellent dinner two very large
1784] ST. JEAX DE MAUEIBXXE GENEVA CHAMOUNI. 129
trout, spinach, salad, and a great bowl of the finest cream,
besides some foreign rarities for a dessert, such as candied
fruit, biscuits, and nuts.
Left 1'Hopital about 3 P.M., and arrived at Lanslebourg
about 5. The Due de Chablais' gardes de corps going
to Evian before him had got the best rooms, but we had
no bugs, thank heaven ! The difference of the climate on
this side the mountain and the other is wonderful. At
Turin it was midsummer for the heat ; here I felt most
uncomfortably cold : glad of all the covering they gave
to my bed, and found a linen habit much too light a
dress.
Thursday, 24:th Lay at St. Jean de Maurienne.
Friday, 25th. On this side St. Jean de Maurienne the
vine begins again to be cultivated, and about Aiguebelle
the mountains begin to be less stupendous and the valley
somewhat wider. Lay at Chambery. The inn there and
at Aiguebelle clean and neat.
Saturday, 26th. Lay at Frangi.
Sunday, 27th. Arrived at Geneva before 12. In
the evening Sir James Graham and Mr. Brand called;
took a long walk with them.
Monday, 28th. Went out between 6 and 7 to Mont
Saleve, a high rock about three miles from Geneva,
with Sir James and Mr. Brand. Went to Yevay in a
carriage ; from thence mounted a very steep ascent on
foot. An old woman in the neighbourhood furnished us
with an excellent breakfast, which we ate under a great
shelving out of the rock. In the evening, my father and
I went to the play with Sir James Graham, Mr. Brand,
Sir James Hall, and Mr. Dawkins.
Tuesday, 29th. Set out for Chamouni in a hired post-
chaise. Sent our own carriage with the servants and
baggage to Lausanne. Dined on bread and butter at
Bonneville (the inn much improved). Lay at Sallenches.
VOL. I. K
130 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1734
At the other auberge were General O'Hara, with Lady
Pembroke, and a large party returning from Chamouni.
Wednesday, 3(M. Left Sallenches in a char-a-banc ;
Agnes and my father on horseback. Stopped at Asservo,
the mining village. Arrived at Chamouni. Were delayed
in crossing the torrent between Sallenches and Asservo, it
having made very great debordemens. These deborde-
mens are a curious phenomenon, which I wish much to hear
accounted for. They do not come from the source, and
are neither occasioned by great rains or the melting of
snows, happening often in dry cool weather, as this had
done. A quantity of water, little less thick than liquid
mud, accompanied by large stones, is thrown out of
cavities in the rock, far beneath the source of the stream,
which falls perfectly clear from the top of a mountain.
These streams of mud take various courses in the broad
stony channel of the torrent, and in colour and appear-
ance put me something in mind of miniature representa-
tions of streams of lava.
Thursday, July 1. Set out early for the Montanvert,
with Victor and Paschard for our guides, and near a
dozen children, who followed us up with milk and straw-
berries to sell at the top. Arrived at the little hovel
called Blair's Hospital.* Here we refreshed ourselves
with our provisions. This little place, though on the
summit of that part of the mountain from which one
descends to the great Mer de Glace, is covered with
rhododendrons, and there is very good pasturage for
the cattle brought up there in the summer. From hence
we made a steep descent to the moraine f of the Mer de
Glace. It has been justly called a sea, for it has exactly
* An inn or pavilion affording sleeping accommodation has succeeded to
the rude hut, composed of a boulder stone and dry wall turfed over, beneath
which Saussure slept, and to the regularly-built cabin called Chateau de
Blair, from the Englishman who erected it, 1778-81. Murray's Handbook.
+ The rocks and stones that are thrust forward by the ice and form an
embankment to the glacier. Ibid.
1784] CH AMOUNT. 131
the appearance of a violently-agitated ocean suddenly
arrested. When upon it the waves (if one may call them
so) are little mountains, over whose heads one cannot see,
and one walks in valleys and upon the side of these hills
of ice. Eeturned to Blair's Hospital, where we again
reposed before our descent. The rafters of this little
hovel, though it has only been erected seven or eight
years, are so covered with English and French names and
verses, that one can hardly distinguish the one from the
other. Came down the mountain on that sicle next the
source of the Arveron, and arrived at Chamouni about
4 o'clock. The ascent I thought very little of. One makes
nearly half of it on mules, and the rest, though extremely
steep, I did not find so fatiguing as I expected ; but the
descent is much more rapid, and should only be attempted
by those who are used to walking and to mountains.
Friday, 2nd. In the morning rode to the Glacier de
Boissons. Walked to the top of the moraine. The ice
is many feet lower than it was last August, when we
walked across this glacier. The guides of Chamouni
make this observation general, and assured us all glaciers
are much lower at present than they were any part of
last year. Eeturned to Chamouni ; crossed several tor-
rents on the backs of the mules, which upon any other
creatures or at any other place would probably have
frightened me.
In the afternoon, took a delightful walk in the woods
opposite Chamouni. If anything could inspire an un-
poetic imagination it would surely be the scenes which
surround this delightful valley ; and let me add, too, the
simple, plain, ingenuous manners of its inhabitants. I am
anything but romantic, God knows! and am far from
supposing that there anywhere exists a society of men
free from the mean passions and frailties incident to
human nature ; but the inhabitants of Chamouni appear
to me more in good fellowship with one another, more
K 2
132 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1734
charitable and benevolent, and less envious, tricky, and
avaricious, than any other society of people that has fallen
under my observation; better informed they certainly are,
for the greater part of the men, following in the summer
the profession of guide to strangers who visit the glaciers,
all of whom are of the better sort, and many of them
travelling with philosophical views, they have acquired
ideas and language entirely above their station, and which
upon the subject of the natural history of their mountains
would indeed do credit to anyone. During the winters,
which are very long, the children are all taught to read
and write. In the summer there is no more school, and
they are constantly employed, as soon as they can crawl,
in carrying their cattle up the mountains to pasture
during the day and bringing them down in the evening.
Saturday, 3rd. Left Chamouni at 7 A.M., upon mules,
and, accompanied by our two guides, ascended the
Col de Balme, to the highest point to which one can
ride. It is all turf and pasturage for cows to the very
top. Immediately below the summit we stopped at a
chalet, a number of wooden huts near together, re-
sembling both outside and inside the views and descrip-
tions of houses in the South Sea Islands. Here we dined
on the turf, the people of the chalet bringing us out most
delicious cream in a large pail, from which we all served
ourselves with a ladle into little wooden bowls. The mules
in the meantime, with their saddles on, grazed by our
sides. In the chalet were four men, chosen to take the
charge of 160 cows belonging to different villages during
the summer. In the highest parts of the mountain they
make two large cheeses every day. From the top of the
Col de Balme one may indeed be said to have a view of
the Alps, being entirely surrounded by summits of moun-
tains, one rising behind the other on every side as far as
the eye can reach. Here we were obliged to quit the
mules and descend on foot for above two hours. The
1784] BEX LAUSANNE. 133
descent is very steep to the valley and village of Tours,
which consists of just a few wooden huts, and the valley
so narrow that they are often shut up by snow for weeks
in the winter from the rest of the world.
Here we again mounted the mules, and rode for more
than an hour up the opposite side of the valley. From
thence there is a continued descent to the plain of Mar-
tigny. Here we again walked for another hour, and re-
mounted the mules in the plain about a league from
Martigny, where we arrived tired, but not fatigued, with
a delightful day's journey through the most picturesque
and romantic country I ever saw. The inn at Martigny
much less dirty than I expected.
Sunday, 4th. Intended to have gone to Bex in a
caleche belonging to the innkeeper ; but his horses were
pasturing on the mountains, and were not to be caught.
After having despatched several messengers in search of
them (all of whom seemed to have lost themselves in the
pursuit), we found it was too late to await their return.
Set off on the Chamouni mules for Bex, only four
leagues' distance ; but we could only go at a foot's-pace,
and were unexpectedly detained by a great fall of rock,
which had destroyed the old road. We got too far
entangled amidst great masses of rock to return, but
were obliged to dismount, and both our mules and our-
selves scrambled over as well as we and they could.
Arrived at Bex. The whole road, particularly near St.
Maurice and Bex, most beautiful. Went in a char-a-banc
to the salt works I mean the gradation houses which
are about half a league distant. We were too late to see
the Souterrains.
Monday, bth. Arrived about 7 at Lausanne, which
we approached with joy.
Left Lausanne. Stopped at Secheron, expecting to find
Miss Gore ; she had left that morning for Spa.
It was during this visit to Lausanne that Miss Berry first
134 MISS BEREY'S JOURNAL. [1784
became acquainted with Madame de Stael; there is no mention
of her in the journal, but in a little memorandum-book con-
taining ' Notes of my acquaintance with Madame de Stael,' the
following entry is made of this year : ' I saw her first at
Lausanne in 1784. We had returned from Italy in the June
of that year. I was twenty, and she was sixteen years old. At
a soiree given by the to the Prince Henri de Prusse
the young English there, to her utter surprise, much neglecting
her from the boldness of her manners.'
TJmrsday, August I2th. Left Geneva. Stopped be-
tween Collonges and Bellegarde, to see where the Ehone
is said to lose itself in the ground. It is nothing more than
the river running for about 150 yards under large masses of
rocks ; there is a wooden bridge thrown over just at this
point, from whence you see it both run in and out. The
surrounding scene is picturesque and pretty enough. A
little farther on, and immediately upon the high-road,
one passes a bridge over a large rivulet, which bursts at
once from under a rock, and which seems to me both
more curious and prettier than the ' Perte du Ehone.'
Arrived at Mantua,
Friday, I3th. Left Mantua. The road round the little
lake, on which the town is situated, very pretty. Arrived
at Lyons.
Saturday, Uth. Mr. Giffard and Mr. Eemington sat
with us in the morning. Went to the theatre in the
evening. The play was 'Alzire,' which character was
performed by Madame Vestris ;* she spoke it well, but
her action, in my opinion, both inelegant and affected.
Sunday, Ibth. Walked before breakfast upon the Quai
du Ehone a fine long range of buildings, inhabited by
manufacturers and low people, consequently very dirty,
* Madame Vestris, wife of Paco Vestris, brother of the celebrated dancer
of that name. She first appeared in 1768, was highly successful as a tragic
actress, and was well known for her vehement quarrels with two other
actresses of the name of Sainval, in which the public and those in authority
took part.
1784] LYONS. 135
even on the outside. In the evening the public walks
were crowded with smartly-dressed people rouge, gauze,
and ribbon from one end to the other.
Monday, 16th. Went in the morning to several manu-
facturers, to silk mills, and to see cut velvet wove the
most complicated of all the looms. A weaver working
assiduously from 5 in the morning to 9 at night cannot
make above half a yard and a quarter a day of a stuff for
which they are paid by the mercers eight livres a yard.
A weaver of brocaded gold-stuff, working the same
number of hours, cannot make above half a yard, and the
payment uncertain. All these weavers, lodged up in the
fourth and fifth stories of dirty stinking houses, surprised
me by the propriety and civility of their manner, and their
readiness to satisfy all our questions.
Tuesday, 17th. In the morning at different manufac-
turers. To a weaver of gold-lace. Of a lace about two
inches broad, a person working well can make about two
yards or two yards and a half a day, for which they are
paid eight or ten louis a yard by the merchant who gives
them the gold to work. To a great manufacturer of
gauze. There, are two horses up in the fifth story of the
houses, turning silk mills, which wind I know not how
many bobbins at once. The women who watch these,
to arrange them, and take up the threads that break, are
there from 5 in the morning till 9 at night for twelve
sous.
Wednesday, ISth. At the manufactory of all the very
rich stuffs for furniture and for very fine embroidery. A
very richly-embroidered satin suit of clothes for men,
about seventeen or eighteen louis. We saw the pattern
of one velvet, with false stones set in silver, like
diamonds disposed upon it like embroidery, which they
had made for Prince Potemkin, and had cost 1,000 louis ;
it must have been frightfully heavy. They showed us
velvet for hangings ; a white ground with bunches of
136 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1734
flowers and a running pattern wove in it, every skein of
silk being dyed for that pattern, and so arranged in the
loom that it is wove like a piece of velvet, without any
pattern at all. It was at eight louis a yard. In the
evening the theatre.
Friday, 20th. Embarked on the Saone in a large boat
with our carriage and servants, for Avignon. These boats
are nothing more than so many fir planks, nailed together
in the rudest manner that can be imagined. They float
down by the rapidity of the stream at the rate of between
three and four miles an hour, assisted by two or three
oars, which are just fir-trees made a little flat at one end ;
they never return up the river, but are sold for timber
when they reach the place of their destination. Our
boat cost, the people told us, four louis ; we gave seven
for the hire of it to Avignon, navigated by three men, so
that it is surely a very good adventure for the owner. The
banks of the Ehone are beautiful. On both sides, with-
in the first three or four leagues of Lyons, they are
covered with campagnes, and, farther on, with villages,
vineyards, and much picturesque inequality of ground.
Stopped at Yienne, a small town, or rather village,
where a very handsome quay is just finished to the
Ehone. Dined in the coach. Travelled all night.
Saturday, 21st Passed Valence, a considerable town.
At 7 went ashore, and breakfasted at Pouzan, an incon-
siderable village. The banks of the river less pretty lower
down ; the hills more distant from the edge of the river
and less wooded. Between 4 and 5 P.M. passed under
the Pont St. Esprit, a beautiful bridge of twenty-six elliptic
arches.* Though very long, it has the appearance of
lightness, there being a small arch in the upper part of
every pier. It is a work worthy the Eomans, though
begun in the dark times of 1265 and finished in 1309.
It was built by the offerings made to a famous shrine of
* It was the only bridge over the Rhone till 1806.
1784] AVIGNOX VAUCLUSE. 137
the St. Esprit, which had performed many miracles. in order
to preserve the devoted pilgrims who crossed the Ehone
from the accidents which were occasioned by the rapidity
of the stream. The evening was so rainy, with continued
thunder and lightning, that about 7 o'clock the boat-
men thought it better to stop at a small inn, or rather
farm-house, than to proceed in the dark, as we should
not have arrived till midnight at Avignon. The room
we had to sleep in was just large enough to contain four
beds and a table; the latter we were obliged to move, in
order to place a mattress upon the floor, as all the beds
were plentifully stocked with bugs.
Sunday, 22nd. Arrived at Avignon. Walked about
the town. It is in a low, flat, unpleasant situation, en-
closed in a very pretty embattled wall, with towers at
certain distances. Without the walls are public walks,
with rows of trees.
In a chapel belonging to an hospital for mad people
are some pictures, by Mignard and other French artists,
and a Judith with the head of Holofernes, by Eubens.
Eound a court are the cachots of the lunatics. They had
each a hole in their door, through which one could see
and speak to them. Their rooms were very good, with
a window near the ceiling, and a clean-looking bed.
Monday, 23rd. Went in a caleche to the fountain of
Vaucluse, fifteen miles distant from Avignon, through a
perfectly flat country, vineyards, or stubble fields, without
a tree, except little stunted mulberries. Yaucluse is at
the foot of those mountains which bound this great plain,
and appears surrounded by them. We walked about
half a mile up the course of the stream, between the
rocks. From these rocks the stream bursts forth from a
number of very strong springs. What is called the source
is a pool of the clearest water, in a large cavern in the
rock. The people as usual call it unfathomable ; indeed,
it would be very difficult to try, for one sees through the
138 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1784
clearness of the water that it is a great gouffre, lined with
escarped rocks. It certainly communicates with the
stream, which rises from springs 300 or 400 yards' dis-
tance : for at certain times of the year the people said
generally about Easter the water in the cave rises so
high as to run over the rocks in front and join the stream
below. The rise cannot, I think, be less than twenty per-
pendicular yards.
Walked up to the ruins of an old castle on the rock,
above the village, from whence there is a pretty view of
the little valley through which the stream passes, which
is kept green by its waters, and is bordered by some
poplar trees; everything else around barren and rocky.
The people of the village call this ruin (the remains
of some little fortress) le cMteau de Madame Laure, and
a little hovel near it la maison de Mons. Petrarque.
Tuesday, 24^A. Arrived at Nismes. Just before we
reached the last post we went about a mile and a half
out of the way to see what is called the Pont du Gard. It
is a beautiful Roman aqueduct thrown over the valley ;
it is composed of three rows of arches, immediately over
which is the channel for the water. This aqueduct now
serves for a bridge over the Eiver Gard. In the year
1743 the arches of the lower piers were doubled, that is to
say, they applied a bridge to the side of the aqueduct, the
arches of which are equal in height to the first row of the
aqueduct, and has not a bad effect. In this monument,
as in almost all others of the Eomans, there are wonderful
and unaccountable irregularities, such as large rude stones
sticking out every here and there, and the cornice of the
arches being never the same height.
Wednesday, 2bth. All the morning seeing the town of
Nismes and the Roman antiquities. All the streets are
small, dirty, and not paved ; but it looks lively, well-
peopled, and busy. There is a great manufactory here
of silk stockings and cotton stuffs, and shops well fur-
1784] NISMES. 139
nished of all kinds. The fountain is built upon ruins of
Eoman baths : there was not a drop of water in it, on
account of the great drought from which they have been
lately suffering. There has been no considerable rain for
six months.
The Amphitheatre is a fine remain of Eoman grandeur ;
it is nearly as large in dimensions and much less in ruins
than the Colosseum at Eome, but it has not that magni-
ficent and imposing air, being raised only two stories of
arcades, and the inside is all filled with mean houses,
crossed by little narrow dirty streets, so that one cannot
imagine oneself in the interior of an amphitheatre till,
mounting the corridor of the first story, there one gets out
at the vomitoires to the seats, of which twelve of the
highest TOWS still exist ;* it is more an ellipse than that at
Eome, and could contain, as they say, 15,000 persons. The
outward wall has lost nothing of its height, and one sees
where they placed poles to stretch a covering to protect
the spectators from the sun or weather. There is every
appearance that this building was constructed, or at least
finished in haste : in about half of the exterior the friezes,
the cornices, the capitals of the columns, are only as it were
sketched through ; in the other half they are very well
carved. The architecture is neither of the Tuscan nor of
the Doric order, but between the two ; it has all that
grandeur, that simple and manly taste, that always dis-
tinguishes the works of the Eomans ; it is not known by
whom, or at what time, this amphitheatre was built.
La Maison Quarree is the most perfect and most orna-
mented model of a Eoman temple that has escaped the
ravages of time : it is of Corinthian order, and built of the
stone that is found in the environs of Nismes ; it is perfectly
well preserved, the roof excepted, which was probably re-
newed when it was turned into a Christian church. The
* The buildings which obstructed it both within and without are now
removed.
140 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1734
columns are fluted and the frieze carved ; all the ornaments
are beautifully worked and in excellent taste ; nothing is
misplaced, nothing overcharged. There is upon the fron-
ton the most beautiful female Greek I ever saw ; on the
frieze of the facade there are still to be seen the mark of
the nails that fastened the letters of the inscription, and
by the examination of which M. Seguier thinks he has
found the words that composed it, and given it to the
public. The idea is certainly very ingenious ; but as one
might easily be mistaken, and it is often necessary to have
recourse to the imagination to supply what is deficient, it
is difficult to feel sure of the correctness of such an ex-
planation. The Maison Quarree as well as the Amphi-
theatre are in the middle of the town; there is not
enough space to obtain a good view of them. It is a
small church, rather mean ; and as it is only lighted by one
window above the door, it is very dark, and has nothing
of the grandeur of the exterior.*
There is also at Nismes considerable remains of an-
other Eoman temple, near to the public fountain ; it is
generally called the Temple of Diana. There still re-
main four walls and three recesses. Some people have
thought that this temple was formerly subterranean, that
is to say, built under a hill, like those two temples seen
on Lake Albano, and many others in the environs of
Naples. The interior of this building is filled with various
remains of antiquity, that are found wherever they dig at
Nismes. There are many inscriptions, the remains of
many statues, some fine pieces of friezes and marble
* Originally a temple, afterwards a Christian church, and in the eleventh
century the Hotel de Ville ; still later it was converted into a stable ; and
its owner, to extend his space, built walls between the pillars of the portico,
and pared away the flutings of the central columns to allow his carts to
pass ; it then became attached to the Augustine convent, and was used as
a tomb-house for burial. Its next changes were into a revolutionary
tribunal and corn warehouse, and finally it is converted into a museum.
Murray's Handbook.
1784] LEAVE MONTPELIER FOR NISMES. 141
cornices, much ornamented and beautifully worked, many
pieces of columns of different kinds, in white marble, and
of an enormous size giving a grand idea of the building
of which they made a part. We went also to see, in the
cellar of a merchant, a very beautiful mosaic in black and
white, without figures, but like marqueterie, very well
done. It was found in building the house, and makes
a part of the floor of the cellar. They told us that
others had been found in other places, that were of
many colours and represented figures.
No journal has been preserved of the four months spent by
the Miss Berrys and their father at Montpelier. Amongst
those who were residing there at the end of 1784 and at the
beginning of the next year, 1785, were M. and Madame de
Neckar and their daughter. 'There, in their first exile, and
occupying,' as Miss Berry says, ' a country house in the neigh-
bourhood of Montpelier, whilst we lived in the town.' It is
clear, however, from Miss Berry's next entry in her journal, that,
notwithstanding this proximity to what might have been an
agreeable society, the residence at Montpelier left no pleasing
recollection on her mind.
Friday, December olst. We left Montpelier for
Nismes. I leave Montpelier without the slightest feeling
of that regret which one generally experiences on leav-
ing a place where one has stayed four months, and that
one sees, perhaps, for the last time. That is the advan-
tage of not having formed friendships, and having scarcely
seen any one person that I could regard with less indif-
ference than another ; but these are advantages of which
I am hardly ambitious, and I would rather a thousand
times be enduring at this moment all that depression,
sadness, arid regret which one suffers in parting from
dear friends, than this present state of cheerless indiffer-
ence and cold tranquillity.
6 Monsieur , de 1' Academic des Sciences a Mont-
142
MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL.
[1784
pelier, disant a Monsieur d'Alembert que I'Acaddmie, dont
il etait membre, se plaisait d'etre considered comme la
fille ainee de celle de Paris, " Ah ! c'est une brave fille,"
reprit Monsieur d'Alenibert, "elle ne fait point parler
d'elle." 5
143
JOURNAL.
1785.
Saturday, Jan. 1st. We revisited La Maison Quarre'e
and the Temple of Diana. The beauty of the former
struck me more than ever : it is the most perfect specimen
which has escaped the ravages of time and weather; not a
stone is wanting ; all is so well worked, all the parts so well
filled, so ornamented, without the least overloading, that
one is n^ver tired of admiring the pure taste which reigns
throughout. On seeing it a second time, I am confirmed in
my opinion that this temple has been subterranean, with
the facade only above ground. Even now it is placed
with its bank against the rock, which could not have been
less considerable than it is now, and probably was much
more so.
In the afternoon received an unexpected visit from
Comte Melzi, a Milanese, whom we had seen at Madame
Litta's at Milan ; he sat the whole evening with us.
The meeting was agreeable : we spoke of Italy, pictures,
fine arts ; he has observation and taste ; he is now going
to Spain, where he has a sister settled.
Sunday, 2nd. Left Nismes. We passed the Ehone in a
boat from Bocaire to Tarascon ; it is generally passed by a
bridge of boats, but it was taken up, the river having been
frozen, which happens very rarely.
At St. Eemy all the young people of the town were
dancing in the faubourg. For the first time in my life
I saw small bourgeois servants and peasants dancing with
natural grace and signs of real gaiety: they wanted no danc-
ing-master to show them the figures. For half an hour they
danced the figure of a quarree, and were never wrong in
144 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1785
a single step, and always with a grace and gaiety that one
sometimes vainly looks for in our dress-ball rooms. Their
band was a tambourine and a fife ; they danced quarrees,
a Peregordine, and a dance they called the matelot, which
was very like our English country dances.
The peasant women in this part of Provence have a
peculiar costume, and which to my taste is very pretty.
The corsage and sleeves are generally of scarlet cloth,
flowered silk, &c., and the petticoat of some other gay co-
lour, over which they have a sort of loose robe, made be-
hind like what we used to call in England a Polonaise or
Circassian. It hangs loose from their shape behind, and is
pinned like a Polonaise before ; it is generally black and
lined with scarlet or crimson ; their petticoats short, and
their head-dress a sort of mob-cap, generally black.
We slept at Pont Eoyal, a lonely post-house, where
everything was clean ; good beds and honest people.
Monday r , 3rd. Arrived at Aix.
Friday, 7th. In the morning we had a visit from Count
de Gallifel, to whom we had a letter from his uncle the
Comte de Levis.
Tuesday, ~L~Lth. There are more agreeable walks in the
environs here than I have seen in France.
Wednesday, 12th. We left for Marseilles ; the roads
abominable. The narrow wheels of the loaded charrettes
of this country would spoil the best road in a short
time, and the more so from the heavy weights being placed
upon two instead of upon four wheels.
The country between Aix and Marseilles is not half so
cultivated or rich as Languedoc, but more diversity of
land, rocks, and meadows, more olive trees, fewer vines,
some trees in the valley, some pines here and there upon
the mountains. In the environs of Marseilles all is sur-
rounded by walls ; we travelled between two walls for
more than a league on approaching the town. The road
was filled with carriages, and all betokens a commercial
town and a large population.
1785] ARRIVAL AT ORANGE AND MONTELIMART. 145
Thursday, 13th. We drove round the town. The street
which leads from the port to the cours, and the cours
itself, are almost as thronged with people as the streets of
London. The cours is the public walk in summer, the
port is that of winter ; there are always so many vessels,
that one can see scarcely anything else on one side, and
houses on the other ; and as this is the place where all
the trade of the town is carried on, the pavement is too
narrow to move at ease it is a perpetual mob, and very
unpleasant for those who go there only to walk.
Saturday, 15th. I went to see an apartment in the
Eue de Paradis, which suited us very well ; it was the pri-
vate house of a Chevalier de Malthe (M. Eicard), in a
good quarter. He asked fifteen or eighteen louis a month ;
we agreed for twelve.
Wednesday, March 9^. We left Marseilles, returned to
Aix, arrived at the Pont Eoyal before six. The weather
dark, rainy, and very disagreeable ; the roads no better
than when we passed in the month of January.
Thursday, Wth. At two posts from Orange there was
mud half-way up the wheels ; they had had rain here for
the last five days. On our arrival at Orange, we walked
to see the ancient triumphal arch,* situated near the inn,
in a field at the side of the road ; it is much upon the same
plan as all the arches in Eome a large arch between two
small ones ; it is of the Corinthian order, and the fa9ade
very pretty, but it bears marks dei bassi tew.pi. There is
a large bas-relief representing an encounter of cavalry
above the middle arch on each fa9ade, occupying the part
where the inscription is usually placed between.
Friday, 11th. Arrived at Montelimart. The road so
extremely bad, that we went for the most part of the way
a foot's-pace. We had no idea of sleeping at Montelimart ;
* The generally-received opinion at present refers this arch to the reign
of Marcus Aurelius, and to his successes on the Danube and in Germany.
Murray's Handbook.
VOL. I. L
146 MISS BERET'S JOURNAL. Cms
but one of the postilions having quarrelled with Samuel,
the master of the post sent to ask us to return to arrange
the dispute : it was then too late to start again for Oriol.
We were well off at Montelimart.
Saturday, 12th. Arrived at St. Vallier. The country
everywhere very fine ; on one side the Ehone, and on
the other rocks and very picturesque chateaux.
Sunday, 13th. The weather had entirely changed
since last night ; it began to snow, and continued without
the slightest intermission during all the day. By the time
we arrived at Lyons (at eight o'clock in the evening) there
was at least six or seven inches of snow upon the road
and in the streets. I have rarely felt it so cold in England
at Christmas.
Monday, l&h. We stayed at home to rest ; it was
too cold to leave the fire.
Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. We
spent the morning at different shops. This pastime is
nowhere so thoroughly disagreeable as at Lyons. They
do not show their best stuffs nothing but what is ab-
solutely asked for and for everything they demand an
exorbitant price, and even with the least dishonest you
must haggle during half an hour for the smallest pur-
chase.
Tuesday evening we spent very agreeably with Lady
E. Foster, who by the merest accident we found was at
Lyons, on her way with Lord and Lady Harvey* for
Turin.
Thursday. Mr. De Denezy and a Dutch officer, his
travelling companion, dined with us, and in the evening
we called on Madame Casanove at the Hotel d'Artois.
Saturday, 19th. We left Lyons for Paris. The frost
* Lord Harvey, eldest son of Frederick, fourth Earl of Bristol, died 1796.
He married Elizabeth, daughter of Drummond, Esq., by whom he had
a daughter, Elizabeth Catherine Caroline, born 1780, died 1803, having
married Charles Rose Ellis, Esq., afterwards Lord Seaford.
1785] KEMAINS AT PARIS.
continued, but as we advanced we found less snow, and
the roads pretty good ; but so many people left Lyons the
same day we olid, that we were obliged to wait at each
post for horses, and at the Maison Blanche there were
none: thus we were forced to sleep at the Hotel de
Bourgogne.
The only memorandum left of the time now spent at Paris
is the following entry respecting M. de StaeTs marriage :
'Paris, 1785. From our great acquaintance in Italy
with the King of Sweden, Gustavns III., we became very
intimate with his ambassador at Paris, M. de Stael. He
spoke to me in all confidence about his intended mar-
riage with Mdlle. Neckar. Asked my opinion, and con-
sulted me on the subject; but the match was settled.'
Miss Berry remained at Paris with her father and sister from
the 20th of March till the June following ; and it is much to
be regretted that the journal here ceases, and that none of her
letters at that period can now be recovered. The melancholy
with which Miss Berry's character was so deeply dyed through
life is strongly exhibited in the following reflections. Madame
Roland's* posthumous works were published by her daughter's
husband in the year 1800; and Miss Berry appears to have
been sufficiently struck with the similarity of their feelings at
nearly the same age as to have transcribed the following passage
as a parallel to her own reflections :
M. B. AT 22. MME. EOLAND AT 23.
C'est fait done demes voyages. Helas ! 1'exercice penible de
Me voici a 1'extremite de la la sensibilite, pourroit-il 1'afTai-
France, je vois de loin les rives blir et Peteindre chez moi? La
de ma patrie; trois heures scene magnifique de 1'univers
d'un vent favorable et je m'y paroit couverte d'un voile a
* Madame Roland fell a victim to the guillotine November 9, 1793, at
the age of thirty-nine, and her hushand committed suicide seven days
afterwards. Their only daughter married M. Champagneux ; the first
edition of Madame Roland's memoirs was published by him in 1800, under
the title of { Appel au Peuple.'
L 2
148
MISS BEERY S JOURNAL.
[1785
retrouve. Mais ou sont ces
douces sensations, ces larmes
de joie, ce sentiment profond
et tendre que j'ai toujours
espere d'eprouver dans un
moment qui devroit toujours
m'etre cher ? Je ne les eprouve
pas. Tu ne les eprouves pas !
Malheureuse ! et pourquoi ?
Comment as-tu pu perdre le
plusdoux,le plusnaturel, leplus
delicieux de tous les enthousi-
asmes ? Tu 1'as perdu ! et qu'as-
tu gagne a la place ? Une triste
assurance que le bonheur n'est
d'aucun pays, que son germe
existe en nous-memes et que
tu ne 1'as pas; que ton ame
fiere, ta sensibilite immoderee
1'ont detruit; que tu as per-
du les aimables faiblesses, les
douces erreurs, les heureux
prejuges de ton age et de ton
sexe, sans avoir acquis cette
force d'ame, ces lumieres
sures et etendues enfin, cette
vertu superieure qui seule peut
se passer d'agremens, et seule
capable d'elever nos ames au
niveau de sa propre grandeur,
sait se faire aimer, meme de
ceux qui ne lui ressemblent
pas Je te parle
franchement parceque je t'aime,
je sais que la nature t'avoit
enrichie de tous ses dons, je
me souviens de ton enfance,
je connais ton coaur, je me
suis aussi apercue de la
source, du principe de toutes
tes erreurs. Tu es encore
capable de beaucoup ; je
veux te rendre a toi-meme, te
retirer du precipice ou tu
mes yeux fatigues. Je ne sais
quel brouillard, semblable a
celui des matinees de Fau-
tomne, environne et confond
les objets sur lesquels je vou-
drois fixer mes regards ; je
ne repois deja que des sensa-
tions languissantes
Mes idees se succedent sans
chaleur ; j 'existe sans passions
et sans gout; je suis devenue
etrangere aux transports de
I'enthousiasme, aux dechire-
mens de la compassion, aux
elans de Famitie. Kien, ce
me semble, desormais, ne pour-
roit me causer de 1'etonne-
ment ou de Peffroi! Sans
haine du genre humain, sans
estime pour lui, sans desirs et
presque sans regrets, j'use de
la vie avec indifference, et
je la perdrois sans douleur.,
Triste fruit de la reflexion et
de la connaissance des hommes !'
je n'ai encore que vingt-trois
ans, deja les plus douces
illusions sont evanouies pour
moi, avant que j'ai goute tous
leurs charmes. Trop tot eclairee
par des epreuves affligeantes,
premunie centre les sentimens
qui me restoient a concevoir,
j'ai perdu, avec mes plus cheres
erreurs, jusqu'a la faculte d'etre
abusee davantage. . . . La
nature m'a trahie ; Famour
vaudroit-il mieux qu'elle? . .
. . . Si jamais 1'aigreur ou
le degout venoit empoisonner
mes jours et dechirer mon
cceur, amitie sainte! divinite
bienfaisante a qui je dois mon
bonheur, hates-toi de me re-
1785]
TRANSCRIPT.
149
t'achemines, te sauver de cette
affreuse apathie ou tes erreurs,
ton esprit, ta sensibilite meme
te conduisent. (Written in
June 1785, at Dessin's at Calais,
while waiting for a wind.)
concilier avec mes semblables,
avec moi-meme et avec la vie.
(Reverie du Bois de Vin-
cennes. Mme. Koland, vol. iii.
p. 157.)
150 LETTERS. [1788
LETTEES.
1788-9.
FROM the time of Miss Berry's return to England in June
1785, up to the period of her acquaintance with Horace
Walpole in the winter of 1788, there is no journal pre-
served and no letters to be found that can throw any
light on her thoughts or pursuits at that time : all that re-
mains is a memorandum of their yearly movements, from
which is to be derived, for 1786, the scanty information that
they went to Scotland, and on their return from Scotland
stopped en route in Yorkshire ; that they hired a house in
Somerset Street, and were met in London by their grand-
mother, who came from her daughter Cayley.
In 1787 : c Very comfortable in London. Summer: Isle
of Wight. Visit the Pepys.'
In 1788 : 'In the winter made Mr. Walpole's acquaint-
ance. Took a house at Twickenham Common. Went to
Yorkshire to the Cayleys at Middleton.'
It was in the winter of 1788, and at the house of his
friend Lady Herries,* that Mr. Walpole became first ac-
quainted with the Miss Berrys, but it was not till they
were his neighbours at Twickenham in the autumn of
the same year that any mention is made of them in his
published letters ; but from that time till his death in 1797
the great solace and interest of his declining life appears
to have been derived from his constant social intercourse
and frequent correspondence with the young ladies upon
whom he lavished, at times, the tender epithets of wives,
children, friends. It is in Horace Walpole's letter to Lady
* Wife of the banker in St. James's Street.
1788] HOEACE WALPOLE TO LADY OSSOET. 151
Ossory, dated October 11, 1788, that we find his first
impressions of his new acquaintances, with some account
of their history and circumstances.
[If I have picked up no recent anecdotes on our common
(writes he), I have made a much more, to me, precious acquisi-
tion. It is the acquaintance of two young ladies of the name
of Berry, whom I first saw last winter, and who accidentally took
a house here with their father for the season, &c. &c. Their
story is singular enough to entertain you. The grandfather,* a
Scot, had a large estate in his own country 5,0001. a year, it is
said and a circumstance I shall tell you makes it probable.
The eldest son married for love a woman with no fortune. The
old man was enraged, and would not see him. His wife died,
and left these two young ladies. The grandfather wished for an
heir male, and pressed the widower to remarry, but could not
prevail, the son declaring he would consecrate himself to his
daughters and their education. The old man did not break
with him again, but, much worse, totally disinherited him, and
left all to his second son, who very handsomely gave up SOOl.
a year to his elder brother. Mr. Berry has since carried his
daughters for two or three years to France and Italy, and they
are returned the best-informed and the most perfect creatures I
ever saw at their age. They are exceedingly sensible, entirely
natural and unaffected, frank, and, being qualified to talk on
any subject, nothing is so easy and agreeable as their conversa-
tion, nor more apposite than their answers and observations.
The eldest, I discovered by chance, understands I^atin, and is a
perfect Frenchwoman in her language. The younger draws
charmingly, and has copied admirably Lady D.'s Gipsies, which
I lent, though for the first time of her attempting colours. They
are of pleasing figures. Mary, the eldest, sweet, with fine dark
eyes, that are very lively when she speaks, with a symmetry of
face that is the more interesting from being pale ; Agnes, the
younger, has an agreeable sensible countenance, hardly to be
called handsome, but almost. She is less animated than Mary,
but seems, out of deference to her sister, to speak seldomer, for
they dote on each other, and Mary is always praising her sister's
* Mr. Walpole was mistaken in this. It was their granduncle, not their
grandfather, from whom Mr. Berry had expected to inherit.
152 LETTERS. [1788
talents. I must even tell you they dress within the bounds of
fashion, though fashionably ; but without the excrescences and
balconies with which modern hoydens overwhelm and barricade
their persons in short, good sense, information, simplicity, and
ease characterise the Berrys. And this s not particularly mine,
who am apt to be prejudiced, but the universal voice of all who
know them. The first night I met them I would not be ac-
quainted with them, having heard so much in their praise that
I concluded they would be all pretension. The second time, in
a very small company, I sat next to Mary, and found her an
angel both inside and out. Now, I do not know which I like
best ; except Mary's face, which is formed for a sentimental novel,
but it is ten times fitter for a fifty times better thing genteel
comedy. This delightful family comes to me almost every Sun-
day evening, as our region is too proclamatory to play at cards
on the seventh day. ... I forgot to tell you that Mr.
Berry is a little merry man, with a round face, and you would
not suspect him of so much feeling and attachment. I make no
excuse for such minute details; for if your ladyship insists on
hearing the humours of my district, you must for once indulge
me with sending you two pearls that I found in my path.]*
On October 19 he again wrote to Lady Ossory, on the
subject of his new acquaintances.
[It stands me upon, Madame, to hurry my answer, when I
have to thank you for your very pretty and very flattering
poetry. Little did I think that my two strawberries would
prove muses at Farming Woods. I sent your ladyship an
account of them from absolute dearth of subjects, when you had
commanded me to write again; and when I had done so, I
repented, and thought you would laugh at me in your mind's
mouth, for troubling you with an idle description of two girls
with whom I have happened to get acquainted. Luckily your
ladyship and our lord were at that moment full as much a
man and woman of the woods as any marquis in Christendom ;
and as you are there still, I shall venture to proceed, and to send
you, not an adequate return (as far as my part goes) for your
* The passages included in brackets have been before published, and are
here inserted to give continuity to the narrative.
1788] HORACE WALPOLE TO LADY OSSORY. 153
verses, but some of les amusemens des eaux de strawberri-,
but beseech that they may go no further, for trifles that egayent
a little private society, are ridiculous if they get abroad, espe-
cially from a septuagenary rhymer.
The Berrys were to come over and see my printing press. I
recollected my gallantry of former days, and they found these
stanzas ready set :
To Mary's lips has ancient Rome
Her purest language taught,
And from the modern city home
Agnes its pencil brought.
Rome's ancient Horace sweetly chants
Such maids with lyric fire ;
Albion's old Horace sings nor paints
He only can admire.
Still would his press their fame record,
So amiable the pair is !
But ah ! how vain to think his word
Can add a straw to Berrys !
The next morning the Latin nymph sent me these lines :
Had Rome's famed Horace thus addrest
His Lydia or his Lyce,
He'd ne'er complained, to him their breast
So oft was cold and icy.
But had they sought their joy t' explain,
Or praise their gen'rous bard,
Perhaps like me they'd tried in vain,
And felt the task too hard.]
This rejoinder was thus acknowledged by Horace
Walpole :
To Miss Mary Berry, on her Stanzas in answer to his from
the Press at Strawberry Hill.
I will certainly not contend when I am so glad to be foiled,
as I am in every sense of the word; for you perceive my great
ambition is to set you o/-, and since clinquant is of no other
154 LETTEES. [1788
use, and as Strawberry Hill is the lowest in all the parish of
Parnassus, I hope you will allow me the honour of being your
Phebus entitled office ; tho' I Shall be the reverse of all De-
puties, for my charge will be a sinecure, as my Principal, the force
Inspirer, will, I am persuaded, always execute his office himself,
and leave on the superannuated list,
Yr. devoted Servant,
Ho. WALPOLE.
The verses addressed by the Strawberry Press to the
Miss Berrys appear to have provoked others on their
name, of which these lines, by Mr. Bichard Owen,* of
Cambridge, is an example :
To sound your praises I dare not try,
My pen so prone to err is ;
I tremble whilst I write, lest I
Should add a goose to Berries.
In consequence of these various effusions, Miss Berry
addressed to Horace Walpole the following letter, en-
closing her playful yet modest lines on the same theme.
Twickenham Common : Saturday morning, Nov. 1, 1788.
As an apology for the enclosed, I must tell you that your
verses to us have occasioned half a dozen others (some of them
by people whom we never saw), in which our name and praises
have been played upon a thousand different ways. Our senti-
ment upon them I have ventured to express to you in the follow-
ing lines. Ehyming seems to be catching ; but I fear I have
got the disorder of a bad sort.
I have the honour to be much yours,
M. BERRY.
* Kichard Owen, Cambridge. This gentleman, of an opulent and ancient
Gloucestershire family, was distinguished by his wit in conversation, no less
than by his taste and talents in literature. He wrote a burlesque poem
called the ' Scribleriad,' and was a principal contributor to the periodical
paper called the < World.' He died aged eighty-five, at his seat near
Twickenham, on the banks of the Thames, in the year 1802, leaving a
widow, two sons, and a daughter. His works were collected and re-
published by his younger son. Biographical Notices to Vol. II. of Diary
and Letters of Miss Burney.
1788] MISS BERRY TO HORACE WALPOLE. 155
TO THE HON. HOEACE WALPOLE.
Far in a wood, not much exposed to view,
With other forest fruit two Berries grew ;
Unheeded in their native shade they lay,
Nor courting much, nor too much shunning day.
A wandering sage, whose footsteps oft had roam'd
Out of the beaten track that fashion own'd,
Observ'd these Berries half-concealed from sight,
And, or from chance, or whim, or his delight
Of bringing unregarded worth to light.
Tasted the fruit, and in a lucky hour,
Finding it neither vapid yet, nor sour,
A sort of lively rather pleasant taste,
A flavour, which he thought he lik'd at last,
Something, perhaps, upon the strawberry cast,
The new-found fruit with partial care he prais'd,
And so the Berries' reputation raised.
Others their taste cried up, their goodness sung
In various verse their name and virtues rung :
Some call'd them food for gods and heroes fit,
While some forgot their theme to show their wit.
The Berries, conscious all this sudden name
Prov'd not their value, but their patron's fame
Conscious they only could aspire to please
Some simple palates satisfied with ease ;
But if with nobler, finer fruit compar'd,
They many faults and few perfections shar'd
Wisely determin'd still to court the shade,
To those that sought them only pleasing made ;
No greater honours anxious to obtain,
But still your fav'rite Berries to remain.
The following verses from Mr. Walpole also produced
a rejoinder from Miss Berry in the same modest tone of
self-depreciation :
To Miss MART BERRY.
Thine beauty, learning, eloquence,
With every grace of social sense,
156 LETTEKS. [1788
And all with unaffected ease,
Without pretensions sure to please ;
With every virtue that endears,
Why raise my wishes less than fears ?
'Tis nought that heaven denied thee wealth ;
Ah ! why withhold its dearer blessing health ?
EEPLY.
Tho' pain with unrelenting sway
My languid frame subdues,
Can I with common thanks repay
The wishes of thy Muse ?
Ah no ! my heart no languor knows ;
In every feeling strong,
Dwells with delight on all it owes,
Thy converse, friendship's song :
The voice of praise still charms my ear.
Yet not deceiv'd I see ;
Thy lines but tell in language clear
What I should strive to be.
AN APOLOGY FOR Miss BERRY'S PALENESS, IN IMITATION OP
WALLER. BY H. W.
True on her cheek the Damask rose
Too seldom or too faintly blows ;
Less does the venal mimic art
To that fair cheek its dyes impart.
E'en Hebe's bloom would ill replace
The sensibility and grace
That sweetly beams from Mary's face :
As the white lily would but lose
If tinged by Flora's brightest hues.
Dec. 1789.
Amongst the most cherished of the Miss Berrys' relations
appears to have been their cousin, Miss Bab. Seton, after-
wards married to Mr. Bannister. The following verses
addressed to the ' Tea-Caddy,' over which she had been
1788] MISS SETON'S LINES TO THE 'TEA-CADDY.' 157
presiding during a three months' visit, gives a pleasing and
pointed description of the society she had just quitted
with regret :
Dear Caddy, since no more from thee
I now shall draw each morning's tea,
This envied place no more be mine,
And I, like ministers, resign ;
Since from these scenes I must retire
To humble Causham's cottage fire,
Where dog, and cat, and I, and mother,
Sit and make much of one another ;
And quit this house where best I see
The charms of true society ;
Where flirting, scandal, affectation,
Are banished from the conversation ;
Where Pepy's taste refin'd, discerning,
Displays the charms of polish'd learning,
Makes obsolete all jokes on college,
And separates pedantry from knowledge ;
Where Grarrick charms without pretence,
In native humour, grace, and sense ;
And More but I'll not touch her name
'Tis her own works best speak her fame ;
Or Walpole, whose most liberal spirit,
Calls from oblivion long-lost merit,
Revives the painter and the poet',
Searches for genius, but, to show it,
Writes to make others' laurels known,
While wit and learning plant his own ;
These and some others I could name,
Whom better pens will give to fame,
With my dear Berrys' form a set,
Which I can't quit without regret :
For tho' (I say 't between us snugly)
I know I am both dull and ugly,
And that with these to say one's good,
Still makes one little more than wood ;
For not e'en Walpole ('twas no sham)
Could make me make an epigram :
158 LETTEKS. [1789
But yet with pleasure I confess
I love the wit I don't possess
Love to see others' talents shine,
Nor envy tho' I wish them mine.
But now three months too quickly o'er,
I can enjoy these scenes no more,
My last desire you can perform,
Which is at each returning morn,
When Agnes comes to make the tea
(Which she don't do so well as me),
When by her side she places you,
Keep me in mind when not in view.
And give to every flowing cup
The pow'r to make each difference up ;
Soften the fire of Mary's eyes,
Make Agnes calm e'er she replies ;
Add (if you can) one charm the more
Where Nature's done so much before ;
So shall no breakfast here be eaten,
But you shall make them think of
SETON.
Feb. 23, 1788.
It was during the autumn of this year that Horace Wai-
pole wrote, ' for the amusement of Miss Berry and Miss
Agnes Berry,' his ' Eeminiscences of the Courts of George I.
and II.' These reminiscences were begun on October 31,
1788, and finished January 13, 1789, and were the result
of the interest shown by his young Mends in his stories
of bygone days.
There is no trace of any correspondence this year
(1788) between Mr. Walpole and the Miss Berrys, when
the latter were on a visit in Yorkshire, and the first of the
series of those letters that have been published is dated
February 1789 ; and in this, as in all succeeding letters,
may be traced the constant struggle that was going on
in his mind between the tenderness with which he dwells
on the pleasure of their society and the fear of its expres-
sion making him ridiculous as the septuagenarian admirer
1789] HORACE WALPOLE TO MISS BERRY. 159
of youth and beauty. His letter is dated February 2,
17, and 71 alluding to his own age and concludes with
the following passage :
[I am afraid of protesting how much I delight in your
society, lest I should seem to affect "being gallant ; but if two
negatives make an affirmative, why may not two ridicules com-
pose one piece of sense? And, therefore, as I am in love with
you both, I trust it is a proof of the good sense of your
devoted, H. WALPOLE.]
On March 25 he writes in the same strain :
March 25, 1789.
You have not half the quickness that I thought you had
or, which is much more probable, I suspect that I am a little
in love, and you are not, for I think I should have understood
you in two syllables, which has not been your case. I had sealed
my note, and was going to send it when yours arrived with the
invitation for Saturday. I was to dine abroad, and had not
time to break open my note or write it again, and so lifted up
a corner and squeezed in I will. What could those syllables
mean, but that I will do whatever you please ? Yes, you may
keep them as a note of hand, always payable at sight of your
commands or your sister's ; for I am not less in love with my
wife Eachel than my wife Leah ; and tho' I had a little for-
gotten my matrimonial vows at the beginning of this note, and
was awkward, and haggled a little about owning my passion,
now I recollect that I have taken a double dose, I am mighty
proud of it ; and being more in the right than ever lover was,
and twice as much in the right too, I avow my sentiments,
hardiment, and am,
HrMEN, HYMEN^E !
In Miss Berry's memoranda the events of this year are
entered,
l
Introduced by Mr. W. to Lady Ailesbury * and Mrs. D.f Visit
* Caroline, widow of Charles Bruce, Earl of Ailesbury and Elgin, and
only daughter of Lieut. -General John Campbell, fourth Duke of Argyle,
married afterwards to Marshal Henry Seymour Conway.
t Anne, only daughter of Lady Ailesbury and Marshal Conway, born
1748 j married, June 1767, to John, eldest son of Joseph Darner, Lord
160 LETTERS. [1789
the Cayleys in Yorkshire. Visit at Park Place * and at Mr. Mar-
tin's. Go to Lymington for some weeks ; to Yorkshire ; after-
wards to house at the end of Teddington.
For this introduction to his friend and relation, Lady
Ailesbury, we find Mr. Walpole making an appointment
in his letter to the Miss Berrys, March, 20, 1789.
[. . . I hope you are not engaged this day se'nnight, but
will allow me to wait on you to Lady Ailesbury, which I will
settle with her when I have her answer. I did mention it to
her in general, but have no day free before Friday next, except
Thursday, when, if there is no other illumination,! as is threat-
ened, we should neither get thither nor thence, especially not the
latter if the former is impracticable.
Quicquid delirant Keges plectuntur Achivi.J
The intimacy with Mr. Walpole now determined the
acquaintances, the friendships, and often the place of resi-
dence of the Miss Berrys. His friends became their friends,
his neighbours their neighbours. They formed an integral
part of the society collected round this oracle of literature,
wit, and taste ; and long after death had swept away all
who were known as the guests of Strawberry Hill, or the
recipients of Horace Walpole's letters, the Miss Berrys
alone remained as a link between those other days and
the present time. It was fifty-two years after the period
of their introduction to Mr. Walpole that Miss Berry,
writing to rescue his character from misconception,
Of the means necessary for this purpose, the writer, by
the painful pre-eminence of age, remains the sole depositary,
Milton, afterwards Earl of Dorchester. Nine years after their marriage he
shot himself at a London tavern, and she was left a widow in 1776. She
obtained a high reputation during her life as a sculptress ; amongst those
whose portraits she executed in marble were Mr. Fox, Lord Nelson,
George IV., Miss Berry, &c. She died May 1826, aged eighty.
* The seat of Marshal Conway, near Henley, Oxfordshire.
t Alluding to the rejoicings on George III. recovering from his first
illness in 1788. Cunningham's edit., vol. ix. p. 176.
1789] DARWIN'S c BOTANIC GARDEN.' 161
and being so, has submitted to the task of repelling such mis-
conceptions.*
The next letter in date to Miss Berry is a sample of
the playful manner in which Mr. Walpole was in the habit
of treating the trivial occurrences of the day.
Suavissima Maria, A ? ril 14 ' 1789 '
I could not answer y r note yesterday, for I was at dinner,
as I do not wait till the Great Mogul, Fashion, gives me leave
to sit down to table. Besides, I was to go to the play, and like
to see the beginning as well as the end.
I pray that our Papa may find a house at Twickenham.
Hampton Court is half way to Switzerland.
I am not asked to Lady Juliana's, and therefore must give
you up for this week as vagrants; but when you are passed
back to y r parish, I will certainly see you, especially on this day
se'n night.
In the middle of the last act last night there was an interlude
of a boxing match, but it was in the front boxes. The folks in the
pit, who could not see behind them better than they generally can
before them thro' domes and pyramids of muslin, hinted to the
combatants to retire, which they did into the lobby, where a circle
was made, and there the champions pulled one another's hair,
and a great deluge of powder ensued ; but being well greased
like Grecian pugilists, not many curls were shed. Adieu !
About a fortnight later Mr. Walpole writes as follows
on the subject of Dr. Darwin's poem, 'The Botanic
Garden : '
[April 28, at night, 1789.
. . . I send you the most delicious poem upon earth. If
you do not know what it is all about, or why, at least you will
find glorious similes about everything in the world, and I defy
you to discover three bad verses in the whole stock. Dryden
was but the prototype of the 'Botanic Garden' in his charming
( Flower and Leaf; ' and if he had less meaning, it is true he had
* See Advertisement to vol. vi. of f Letters by Horace Walpole/ pub-
lished 1840.
VOL. I. M
162 LETTERS. [1789
more plan, and I must own that his white velvets and green
velvets, and rubies and emeralds, were much more virtuous gen-
tlefolks than most of the flowers of the creation, who seem to
have no fear of Doctors' Commons before their eyes. This is
only the Second Part ; for like my king's eldest daughter in the
Hieroglyphic Tales, the First Part is not born yet. No matter,
I can read this over and over again for ever; for though it is so
excellent, it is impossible to remember anything so disjointed,
except you consider it as a collection of short enchanting
poems as the Circe at her tremendous devilries in a church ; the
intrigue of the dear nightingale and rose, and the description of
Medea ; the episode of Mr. Howard, which ends with the most
sublime of lines. In short, all, all, all is the most lovely poetry.
And then one sighs that such profusion of poetry, magnificent
and tender, should be thrown away on what neither interests nor
instructs, and with all the pains the notes take to explain, is
scarce intelligible. How strange it is that a man should have
been inspired with such enthusiasm of poetry by peering through
a microscope, and peeping through the key-holes of all the sera-
glios of all the flowers in the universe! I hope his disco-
veries may leave any impression but of the universal polygamy
going on in the vegetable world, where, however, it is more
gallant than amongst the human race ; for you will find that they
are the botanic ladies who keep harems, and not the gentlemen.
Still I will maintain that it is much better that we should have
two wives than your sex two husbands. So, pray, don't mind
Linnaeus and Dr. Darwin. Dr. Madan had ten times more
sense. Adieu ! *
Your doubly constant
THELYPHTHORUS.]
Miss Berry's reply :
Somerset Street, Wednesday morning.
A thousand thanks for the c Botanic Garden.' The first
thirty lines, which I have just read, are delicious, and make me
quite anxious to go on ; for I must at last own with blushes
what I have hitherto concealed, perhaps improperly, from my
husband, but as I am married, it must at last come out, that I
* Vide edit. 1859, vol. ix. p. 178.
1789] CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 163
was early initiated into all the amours and loose manners of the
plants by that very guilty character Dr. Solander,* and passed too
much time in the society and observance of some of the most
abandoned vegetable coquettes.
I hope my having long entirely forsaken all such odd com-
pany, and lived a very regular life, will in some degree apolo-
gise to you for my having been early led astray. We rejoice in
the hopes of seeing you to-morrow evening.
M. BERRY.
From Miss Berry to Mr. Walpole :
Somerset Street, Wednesday night.
You will oblige us by honouring this portrait of Cardinal de
Bernis with a place among your prints ; we happen to have two
or three impressions of it.
Could I borrow for a moment the lively language, elegant
expression, and polished wit which in conversation animates
these vulgar heavy features, I would thank you in such terms as
the subject deserves for your company last night, and the many
pleasant hours we have passed in your society ; but as there is
no borrowing abilities, even upon usury, I must content myself
with reminding you that, as in this portrait, a most heavy un-
promising countenance conceals an active intelligent mind, so
the homeliest expression of thanks often accompanies the truest
sense of obligation.
M. BERRY.
Many passages in the letters already printed having
been suppressed some probably for the sake of brevity,
and some perhaps from a wish on the part of the Miss
Berrys to avoid a too frequent repetition of their own
praises may now without scruple be published.
At the end of June the Miss Berrys left London for
Yorkshire, and Mr. Walpole is full of anxiety and alarm
because the letter to be written on their journey had not
* Dr. Solander, a Swedish writer on Natural History, a pupil of
Linnaeus ; born 1736, died 1782.
M 2
164 LETTERS. [1789
been received, and full of affectionate regret for the loss
of their company. In his letter dated Strawberry Hill,
Tuesday, June 23, 1789, he writes:
[I am not at all consoled for my double loss : my only comfort
is that I flatter myself the journey and air will be of service to
you both. The latter has been of use to me, though the part of
the element of air has been chiefly acted by the element of
water, as my poor haycocks feel ! Tonton * does not miss you
so much as I do, not having so good a taste ; for he is grown
very fond of me, and I return it for your sakes, though he
deserves it too, for he is perfectly goodnatured and tractable ;
but he is not beautiful, like his ' god-dog,' as Mr. Selwyn, who
dined here on Saturday, called my poor late favourite, f especially
as I have had him clipped. The shearing has brought to light a
nose an ell long ; and as he has now nasum rhinocerotis, I do
not doubt but he will be a better critic in poetry than Dr. John-
son, who judged of harmony by the principles of an author, and
fancied, or wished to make others believe, that no Jacobite could
write bad verses, nor a Whig good,]
I passed so many evenings of the last fortnight with you,
that I almost preferred it to our two honeymoons, and conse-
quently am the more sensible to the deprivation ; and how
dismal was Sunday evening, compared to those of last autumn !
If you both felt as I do, we might surpass any event in the
annals of Dunmow. Oh ! what a prodigy it would be if a
husband and two wives should present themselves and demand
the flitch of bacon, on swearing that not one of the three in a
year and a day had wished to be unmarried ! For my part, I
know that my affection has done nothing but increase ; though
were there but one of you, I should be ashamed of being so
strongly attached at my age ; being in love with both, I glory
in my passion, and think it a proof of my sense. Why should
not two affirmatives make a negative, as well as the reverse?
and then a double love will be wisdom for what is wisdom in
reality but a negative ? It exists but by correcting folly, and
* A dog of Miss Berrys', left in Mr. Walpole's care during their absence
in Yorkshire. M.B.
t The dog which had been bequeathed to Mr. Walpole by Mrs. du Def-
land at her death j likewise called Tonton. M.S.
1789] THE OPERA HOUSE BURNT DOWN. 165
when it has peevishly prevailed on us to abstain from something
we have a mind to, it gives itself airs, and in action pretends
to be a personage, a nonentity sets up for a figure of import-
ance ! It is the case of most of those phantoms, called virtues,
which, by smothering poor vices, claim a reward as thief-takers.
Do you know, I have a partiality for drunkenness, though I
never practised it : it is a reality, but what is sobriety, only the
absence of drunkenness. However, mes cheres femmes, I make
a difference between women and men, and do not extend my
doctrine to your sex. Everything is excusable in us, and
nothing in you. And pray remember that I will not lose my
flitch of bacon though.
[Have you shed a tear over the Opera House, or do you agree
with me that there is no occasion to rebuild it ?* The nation
has long been tired of operas, and has now a good opportunity
of dropping them. Dancing protracted their existence for some
time, but the room after was the real support of both, and was
like what has been said of your sex, that they never speak their
true meaning but in the postscript of their letters. Would not
it be sufficient to build another after-room on the whole em-
placement, to which people might resort from all assemblies?
It would be a codicil to all the diversions of London ; and the
greater the concourse, the more excuse there would be for
staying all night, from the impossibility of ladies getting their
coaches to drive up. To be crowded to death in a waiting-
room at the end of an entertainment is the whole joy; for
who goes to any diversion till the last minute of it? I am
persuaded that instead of retrenching St. Athanasius's Creed, as
the Duke of Grafton proposed, in order to draw good company
to church, it would be more efficacious if the congregation were
to be indulged with an after-room in the vestry ; and instead of
two or three being gathered together, there would be all the
world before prayers would be quite over.]
Wednesday. I calculated too rightly ; no letter to-day ! yet
I am not proud of my computation, I had rather have heard of
you to-day ; it would have looked like keeping your promise,
it has a bad air your forgetting me so early ; nay, and after
your scoffing me for supposing you would not write till your
* On the night of the 17th, the Opera House was entirely destroyed by
fire. Wright.
166 LETTERS. [1789
arrival I don't know where. You see I think of you, and write
every day, though I cannot despatch my letter till you have sent
me a direction. Much the better I am indeed for your not
going to Switzerland. Yorkshire is in the glaciers for me, and
you are as cold as Mr. . Miss Agnes was coy, and was not so
flippant of promising me letters ; well, but I do trust she will
write, and then, Madam, she and I will go to Dunmow without
you.
Apropos, as Mrs. Cambridge's beauty has kept so unfaded,
and Mr. Cambridge's passion so undiminished, and as they are
good economists, I am astonished they have laid in no stock of
bacon, when they could have it for the asking.
[Thursday night.
Despairing beside a clear stream
A shepherd forsaken was laid.
Not very close to the stream, but within doors in sight of it,
for in this damp weather, a lame old Colin cannot lie and
despair without any comfort on a wet bank. ... I dread
one of you being ill. Mr. Batt* and the Abbe Nicholls} dined
with me to-day, and I could talk of you en pais de connoissance.
They tried to persuade me that I have no cause to be in a fright
about you, but I have such perfect faith in the kindness of both
of you, as I have in your possessing every other virtue, that I
cannot believe but some sinister accident must have prevented
my hearing from you ; I wish Friday was come ! ]
Friday, 26th. Still I have no letter ; you cannot all three
be ill, and if any one is, I should flatter myself another would
have written. Next to your having met with some ill luck, I
should be mortified at being forgotten so suddenly. Of any
other vexation I have no fear ; so much goodness and good sense
as you both possess, would make me perfectly easy if I were
really your husband. I must then suspect some accident, and
shall have no tranquillity till a letter puts me out of pain.
Jealous I am not, for two young ladies cannot have run away
with their father to Grretna Green. Hymen, Hymensee!
* Thomas Batt, Esq., then one of the Commissioners for auditing the
public accounts. Wright.
t The Rev. Norton Nicholls, Rector of Norfolk. M.B. The
friend and correspondent of Gray. Cunningham.
1789] WALPOLE'S SOLICITUDE. 167
bring me good news to-morrow, and a direction too, or you do
nothing.
Saturday. At last I have got a letter, and you are all well !
I am so pleased, that I forget the four uneasy days I have passed.
At present I have neither time nor paper to say more, for our
post turns on its heel and goes out the instant it is come in.
Do not be frightened at the enormity of this, I do not mean to
continue so fourpaginous in every letter. Mr. C. has this in-
stant come in, and would damp me if I were going to scribble
more. Adieu, adieu, adieu all three.
Your dutiful son-in-law and most affectionate husband,
H. W.
Addressed to Miss Mary Berry, Thomas Cayley's, Esq.,
Middleton, near Pickering.
Strawberry Hill, June 30, 1789.
I am more of an old fondle-wife than I suspected when I
could put myself into such a fright on not hearing from you
exactly on the day when I had settled I should ; but you had
promised to write on the road ; and though you did, your letter
was not sent to the post at the first stage, as Almighty Love con-
cluded it would be, and as Almighty Love would have done ;
and so he imagined some dreadful calamity must have happened
to you. But you are safe under grandmaternal wings, and I
will say no more on what has happened. Pray present rny duty
to grandmama, and let her know what a promising young grand-
son she has got. [Were there any such thing as sympathy at a
distance of two hundred miles, you would have been in a
mightier panic than I was ; for on Saturday se'nnight, going to
open the glass case in the tribune, my foot caught in the carpet,
and I fell with my whole weight [si weight q. a.] against the
corner of the marble altar on my side, and bruised the muscles
so badly, that for two days I could not move without screaming.
I am convinced I should have broken a rib, but I fell on the
cavity whence two of my ribs were removed that are gone to
Yorkshire. I am much better both of my bruise and of my
lameness, and shall be ready to dance at my own wedding when
my wives return.]
Philip, who has been prowling about by my order, has found
a clean house, but it is on Ham Common that is too far off;
168 LETTEES. [1789
and I think Papa Berry does not like that side of the water,
and he is in the right. Philip shall hunt again and again,
till he puts up better game : and now to answer your letter.
[You are not the first Eurydice that has sent her husband to
the devil, as you have kindly proposed to rne ; but I will not
undertake the jaunt : for if old Nicholas Pluto should enjoin
me not to look back to you, I should certainly forget the prohi-
bition, like my predecessor. Besides, I am a little too old to
take a voyage twice, which I am so soon to repeat, and should
be laughed at by the good folks on the other side of the water,
if I proposed coming back for a twinkling only. No, I chuse as
long as I can
Still with my fav'rite Benies to remain.
So you was not quite satisfied, though you ought to have been
transported with King's College Chapel, because it has no aisles
like every common cathedral. I suppose you would object to a
( bird of paradise ' because it has no legs, but shoots to heaven
in a trail, and does not to rest on earth. Criticism and compa-
rison spoil many tastes ; you should admire all bold and unique
essays that resemble nothing else. The ' Botanic Garden,' * The
Arabian Nights,' and King's Chapel are above all rules ; and
how preferable is what no one can imitate to all that is imitated,
even from the best models ! Your partiality to the pageantry of
popery I do approve ; and I doubt whether the world will not
be a loser (in its visionary enjoyments) by the extinction of that
religion, as it was by the decay of chivalry and the proscription
of the heathen deities. Eeason has no invention ; and as plain
sense will never be the legislator of human affairs, it is fortunate
when taste happens to be regent.]
But now I must talk of family affairs. I am delighted that
my next letter is to come from wife the second. I love her as
much as you, and I am sure you like that I should. I should not
love either so much, if your affection for each other were not so
mutual ; I observe and watch all your ways and doings, and the
more I observe you, the more virtues I discover in both nay, de-
pend upon it, if I discover a fault, you shall hear of it. You came
too perfect into my hands, to let you be spoilt by indulgence. All
the world admires you, yet you have contracted no vanity, adver-
tised no pretensions, are simple and good as nature made you, in
1789] THE MISS BEKRYS' DOG ' TOXTON.' 169
spite of all your improvements mind you and yours are always,
from my lips and pen, of what grammarians call the common of
two, and signify both, so I shall repeat that memorandum no
more. Your friends Lady Harriet Conyers and Lady Juliana
Penn have again settled in our environs, the former within a
few paces of Lady Cecilia,* in the parsonage of Hanworth, where
she must be content to remain in an evening with the House of
St. Albans, who are not quite her style : for the Heath at night
will terrify all the lozenges in the neighbourhood. Your friends
are charming, but will not comfort me for what I have lost !
Mrs. Anderson, who you know arrived too late, described the
adventure of Major Dixon to the Dss. of Gloucester, and diverted
her with it exceedingly ; but I immediately found out that she
had related it as if he had talked French the whole time, tho'
not a word had passed in that language. This showed her parts
and invention.
What a, confusion of seasons ! the haymakers are turning my
soaked hay, which is fitter for a water souchy, and I sit by the
fire every night when I come home. Adieu ! I dare not top a
fourth page, for when talking to you I know not how to stop.
In Mr. Walpole's letter of June 23, lie tells the Miss
Berry s that their dog Tonton, left in his care, has been
clipped, and that the shearing has brought to light ' a
nose an ell long,' and that he has now ' nasum rhiiio-
cerotis.' In his letter of July 9,f he says :
Tonton's nose is not, I believe, grown longer, but only come
to light by being clipped, and when his beard is recovered, I
dare to say, he will be as comely as my Jupiter Serapis. In his
taste he is much improved, for he eats strawberries, and is fond
of them, and yet they never were so insipid from want of sun and
constant rain. One may eat roses and small cherries, and not
* Henrietta Cecilia West, eldest daughter of John Lord De la Warr, by
the Lady Charlotte McCarthy, daughter of Donogh, Earl of Clancarty, was
born in February 1727, and was considered one of the finest amateur
musicians of her day. She married Colonel Johnston in 1762, and was called
by her friends the divine Cecilia and St. Cecilia.
t This letter was again addressed to the Miss Berrys at Mr. Thomas
Cayley's, Middleton : the short passages here given being all that were
omitted when published, it is unnecessary to repeat the whole letter.
170 LETTERS. [1789
perceive the difference from want of flavour. If tulips were in
season, I would make a rainbow of them to give other flowers
hopes of not being drowned again. ... I am glad you are
to go to Mrs. Cholmeley, she is extremely sensible and agree-
able but I think all your particular friends that I have seen
are so.
Mr. Walpole had undertaken to look out for a house
for his friends ; in his letter of June 30, he speaks of
' Philip's ' efforts to find such as might suit them ; and on
July 10, he again writes on the same subject, making
many lamentations over his having missed an opportunity
of securing them one that might have met their wishes.
Strawberry Hill, July 10, 1789.
How angry you will be with me, and how insincere you will
think all my professions ! Why, here is Lady Dudley's house
let under my nose, let in my own lane, and for a song!
' Pazienza, mie care I ' I am as white as snow. It had no bill
upon it, though it was advertised, but not in my newspaper,
and who knows truth or falsehood but from their own paper?
And who, of all the birds in the air, do you think has got it ?
Only the Pepys's.* It is true too, that had I had any inkling of
the matter, I should not have inquired about it, for the rent
asked was two hundred a-year but a Master in Chancery,
having a nose longer than himself, went to the executors and
struck a bargain of 701. for four months. The land would pay
the rent ; but then you must have got your hay in before the
rains, and you must have been wiser than I to have done that,
and in hay concerns I don't know that the heads of two wives are
better than that of one husband ; and after all, had not you been
shrewder than a Master in Chancery, it would have cost you.
three hundred pounds extraordinary before you could have shown
your faces, as I am sure, at least / should chuse to have my
wives appear. Why, there is poor Mrs. Pepys with not a rag
of linen but the shift on her back. They sent their whole
history by water. It was a most tempestuous night ; the boat-
men dreading a shipwreck, cast anchor in Chelsea Eeach,
* William Walter Pepys, Esq., afterwards made a baronet, fatlier to the
late Lord Chancellor Cottenham.
1789] STATE OF PAEIS. 171
intending to put to sea next morning but before daybreak
pirates had carried off the whole cargo to the value, Mr. Cam-
bridge* says, of said three hundred pounds. Now, am I as
false or negligent as I thought I was ? You both, and Papa
Berry together, could not be so mad as I was at myself at
first, when I suspected that I had missed Palazzo Dudley for you.
As I keep a letter constantly on the anvil going on for you,
I shall, before this gets its complement, tell you what I know
more. The House of Edgcumbe set out in perilous haste to
prepare the Mount for the reception of their majesties if they
are so inclined,! but were stopped at Pool for want of post-
horses, all being retained for the service of the Court. The
royal personages arrived, and Lady Mount { was in the midst of
the reiteration of her curtsies, when the mob gathering and
pressing on her, she was seized with a panic, clung to her Lord,
and screamed piteous ly, till a country-fellow said to her, ' What
dost thee make such a noise for ? Why, nobody will touch
thee.'
Passons a Paris. All I have yet learnt further is, that
the populace were going to burn the house of Monsieur
d'Espremesnil, a Eoyalist. A cobler, getting on a stand, begged
their low-mightinesses to hear four reasons against wilful fire-
raising : the first was, L'hotel n'etoit point a M. d'Espremesnil ;
second, Les livres n'etoient pas a lui ; third, Les enfans n'etoient
pas a lui ; fourth and last, Sa femme etoit au public. The
pathetic justice of those arguments saved the hotel, and Mon-
sieur d'E. keeps all those goods that do not belong to him.
I am sorry we have refused to supply their wants ; I am for
heaping coals of corn on the heads of our enemies but truth is,
it looks as if it would not be quite prudent to be so generous.
The incessant and heavy rains are alarming ; the corn begins to
be laid, and fair weather is now wanted as much for use as for
pleasure. It costs me a pint of wine a day to make my servants
amends for being wet to the skin every time I go abroad. Lord
* Richard Owen Cambridge, Esq., then living in the house on the
Twickenham side of Richmond bridge, now inhabited by Mr. Bevan.
f King George III. and his queen were then on a progress to Ply-
mouth.
| Emma, Countess of Mount Edgecumbe, daughter of Gilbert, Archbishop
of York, married 1761 ; great-grandmother of the present earl.
172 LETTERS. [1789
and Lady Waldegrave* have been with me for two days, and
could not set their foot out of doors. I drank tea at Mrs.
Garrick'sf with the Bishop of London and Mrs. Porteus, Mr.
Batt, and Dr. Cadogan and his daughter, and they were all in
the same predicament.
Apropos to the Bishop, I enclose a most beautiful copy of
verses which Miss H. More wrote very lately when she was with
him at Fulham, on his opening a walk to a bench called
Bonner's. Mrs. Boscawen showed them to me, and I insisted on
printing them. Only 200 copies are taken off, half for her and
half for the printer, and you have one of the first. How unlike
are these lines to the chymical preparations of our modern
poetasters, cock and hen ! who leave one with no images but
of garlands of flowers and necklaces of coloured stones. Every
stanza of ' Bonner's Ghost ' furnishes you with a theme of ideas.
I have read them twenty times, and every time they improve
on me. How easy, how well kept up the irony ! how sensible
the satire ! how delicate and genteel the compliments ! I hold
Jefcyll and Bonner's Ghost perfect compositions, in their dif-
ferent kinds a great deal to say, when poetry has been so much
exhausted.
Wednesday, 15th.
My motive for sending this away is, not to delay giving
you an account of the news I heard this morning. Mr. Mac-
kinsyj and Lady Betty were with me this morning, and he
showed me a letter he had just received from Monsieur Du-
tens : a courier arrived yesterday with prodigious expedition
from the Duke of Dorset Necker had been dismissed and was
thought set out for Geneva ; an offer of his post was gone to
Breteuil, who is in the country. Everything at Paris was in
* Laura, Countess of Waldegrave, was great-niece to Lord Orford, being
one of the granddaughters of his brother, Sir Edward Walpole.
t The widow of David Garrick, then inhabiting the house he had built at
Hampton.
{ James Stuart Mackenzie, only brother to the Minister Earl of Bute.
He was married to the Lady Elizabeth Campbell, second daughter of John
the first Duke of Argyll. M.B.
A French Protestant clergyman, who was chaplain in the family of the
Duke of Northumberland, and had been Secretary to Mr. Mackenzie in his
mission to the Court of Turin. He wrote an f Itinerary of Europe ' (the first
book of that kind), ' Les Memoires d'un Voyageur qui se repose/ &c. M,B.
1789] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 173
the utmost confusion, and firing of cannon for four hours there
had been heard on the road. All this is confirmed by a courier
from the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire who were setting out
precipitately : that messenger had been stopped three times on
his route, being taken for a courier from that Court, but was
released on pretending to be dispatched by the Tiers Etat.
Madame de Calonne told Dutens yesterday that the newly
encamped troops desert by hundreds but if the firing of cannon
was from the Bastile, and whence else it should proceed I know
not, it looks as if the King were not quite abandoned. Oh ! but
what a scene! How many lives of quiet innocent persons may
have been sacrificed, if the artillery of the Bastile raked that
multitudinous city ! I check myself, for what million of reflec-
tions present themselves.
We have no open enemy but St. Swithin ; but if be persists in
his quarantaine, he will be a very serious one. The Pepysian
robbery was exaggerated ; it is difficult to get at truth, even at
a stone's throw off.
I have scarce left myself any room for conjugal douceurs;
but as you see how very constantly you are in my thoughts, I
am at least not fickle on the contrary, I am rather disposed
to jealousy. You have written to Mr. Pepys, and he will have
anticipated my history of his being established in Palazzo
Dudley ; and that will make this letter more and more
wrinkled well! he cannot send you tf Bonner's Ghost,' and I
shall have the satisfaction of tantalizing you four or five days
longer if this is not love, the deuce is in it : does one grudge
that the beloved object should be pleased by any one but one's
self, unless beloved object there be ? Do not be terrified how-
ever; jealousy most impartially divided between Two can never
come to great violence. Wife Agnes has indeed given me no
cause, but my affection for both is so compounded into one
love, that I can think of neither separately. Frenchmen often
call their mistress mes Amours, which would be no Irish in me.
Apropos, Lady Lucan told me t'other day of two young Irish
couple who ran away from Dublin, and landed in Wales, and
were much surprised to find that Holyhead was not Gretna
Green. Adieu ! Mes Amours !
p.S. Well, are not you charmed with ' Bonner's G-host ! '
Oh ! I forget ; you have not seen it yet how tantalizing !
174 LETTERS. [1789
Ex Officina Arbutiana, July 19, 1789.
Such un writing wives I never knew ! and a shame it is for an
Author, and what is more, for a Printer, to have a Couple so un-
lettered. I can find time amidst all the hurry of my shop to write
small quartos to them continually. In France, where nuptiality
is not the virtue the most in request, a wife will write to her
consort, tho' the doux billet should contain but two sen-
tences, of which I will give you a precedent. A lady sent the
following to her spouse : ( Je vous ecris, parceque je n'ai rien a
faire ; et je finis, parceque je n'ai rien a vous dire.' I do not wish
for quite so laconic a poulet ; besides, your Ladyships can write.
Mrs. Darner dined here yesterday, and had just heard from you.
Brevity, Mes Dames, may be catching don't pretend not to care,
for you are dying for news from France, but not a spoonfull shall
you have from me to-day ; and if I was not a man of honour,
tho' a Printer, and had not promised you ' Bonner's Ghost,' I
would be as silent as if I were in Yorkshire. Remember too,
that Miss Hannah More, tho' not so proper for the French
Embassador's Fete as Miss Gunning, can teach Greek and
Latin as well as any young lady in the North of England,
and might make as suitable a companion for a typographer. I
will say no more, for this shall be a short note.
Sunday night, late.
I break my word to myself, tho' you do not deserve it, for I have
had no letter to-day from either of yon, and now can have none
till Tuesday; but I am just come from Richmond, where I have
seen an authentic account of the horrible scene at Paris. There
had been dismal accounts for three days, but I hoped they had
been exaggerated ! They are too true. The Due de Luxem-
bourg and his family are arrived in London, having escaped
with difficulty, 300,000 livres being set on his head, as the
same sum is on Marshal Broglie's, and 500,000 on the Comte
d'Artois's. The people rose on this day se'nnight, seized all
the arms they could find, searched convents, found stores of
corn, and obliged the monks to deal it out at reasonable prices.
They have beheaded the Lieutenant de Police, or the Prevot des
Marchands, or both, and attacked the Bastile, which the gover-
nor refused to surrender ; and on the populace rushing in, he
fired on them with four great guns loaded with nails, and killed
3 or 400, but they mastered him, and dragged him and his
1789] PROGRESS OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 175
major to the Place de Grreve, and chopped off their hands and
heads. The Bourgeoisie, however, have disarmed the mob, but
have seized the arsenal, and the Hotel de Ville and the treasure
there, which they destine to pay the sums for the heads of the
proscribed.
On Wednesday, the King with only his two brothers went to
the Assemblee Nationale, and offered to concur with them in
any measures for restoring order. They returned him an answer
by 80 Deputies, but the result is not known. The Duke of Dor-
set's courier is not arrived, nobody, it is supposed, being suffered
to go out of the city.
Marshal Broglie is encamped before Versailles with 25,000
men, who are said ready to support the King.
You will want to ask a thousand questions, which I could not
answer nor will I when I can, if neither of you will write to me.
I dined to-day at Mrs. Walsingham's with the Pen-hood, and
to-morrow I am to carry thirty Ghosts to the Bishop of London.
So I am finishing this at past midnight, and shall send it before
I go to Mr. Ellis to be franked.
These two days have been very fine, and I trust have restored
Eiding in Yorkshire. If I ever do receive another letter, I hope
it will give me an account of restored health, for my anger is
but a grain of mustard in comparison of my solicitude. Good
night ! good night !
Mr. Walpole's next letter was addressed to the Miss
Berrys at Wheldrake, York.
[Strawberry Hill, July 29, 1789.
I have received two dear letters from you of the 28th and 29th,
and tho' you do not accuse me, but say a thousand kind things
to me in the most agreeable manner, I allow my ancientry, and
that I am an old fond, jealous, and peevish husband, and quar-
rel with you, if I do not receive a letter exactly at the moment I
please to expect one. You talk of mine ; but if you knew how
I like yours, you would not wonder that I am impatient, and
even unreasonable in my demands. However, tho' I own my
faults, I do not mean to correct them. I have such pleasure in
your letter (I am sorry I am here forced to speak in the sin-
gular number, which by the way is an Iricism), that I will be
cross if you do not write to me perpetually. . . .]
176 LETTERS. [1789
The first object in my thoughts being a house for you, which
I cannot find yet, I will only say that Lady Cecilia tells me that
she has acquainted you that that at Bushygate may be had
most reasonably pho ! but when ? at the end of September !
I told her she was horridly mistaken, and that it is by the end
of August you will, want one. She would not have been in such
an error if she had calculated by a certain almanack in my
heart. Mr. Conway and Lady Ailesbury are to be with her
to-day, and Mrs. Darner to-morrow ; but by General Conway's
indecision, and not knowing when they should come this way-
wards, I shall not see them on either of these days, having
invited my sister, Mr. Churchill, and their daughter Sophia and
Mr. Walpole, to come to me precisely for these two days ; nay,
and on Friday I am to dine with the Bishop of London.
[Of French news I can give you no fresher or more authentic
account than you can collect in general from the newspapers ;
but my present visitants and everybody else confirm the vera-
city of Paris being in that anarchy that speaks the populace
domineering in the most cruel and savage manner, and which a
servile multitude broken loose calls liberty, and which in all pro-
bability will end, when their Massaniello-like reign is over, in
their being more abject slaves than ever, and chiefly by the
crime of their Etats, who, had they acted with temper and pru-
dence, might have Obtained from their poor undesigning King
a good and permanent constitution. Who may prove their
tyrant, if reviving loyalty does not in a new phrenzy force him
to be so, it is impossible to foresee, but much may happen first.]
You asked me in one of y r letters who La Chalotais was. I
answer, Premier President or Avocat-Greneral, I forget which, of
the Parliament of Bretagne, a great, able, honest, and most vir-
tuous man, who opposed the Jesuits and the tyranny of the Due
d'Aiguillon but he was as indiscreet as he was good. Calonne
was his friend and confident, to whom the imprudent patriot
trusted by letter his further plan of opposition and designs. The
wretch pretended to have business with, or to be sent for by, the
Due de la Vrilliere, Secretary of State, a courtier-wretch, whose
mistress used to sell lettres de cachet for a louis. Calonne was
left to wait in the antichamber, but being, as he said, suddenly
called in to the minister, as he was reading (a most natural soil
for such a lecture) the letter of his friend, he by a second
1789] THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 177
natural inadvertence left the fatal letter on the chimneypiece.
The consequence, much more natural, was that La Chalotais
was committed to the Chateau du Taureau, a horrible dungeon
on a rock in the sea, with his son, whose legs mortified there
and the father was doomed to the scaffold ; but the Due de
Choiseul sent a counter-reprieve by an express and a crossroad
and saved him. At the beginning of this reign he was restored.
Paris, however, was so indignant at the treachery, that this
Calonne was hissed out of the theatre, when I was in that capi-
tal. When I heard some years after that a Calonne was made
controleur-general, I concluded it must be a son, not conceiving
that so reprobated a character could emerge to such a height;
but asking my sister,* who has been in France since I was, she
assured me it was not only the identic being, but that when she
was at Metz, where I think he was intendant, the officers in
garrison would not dine with him. When he fled hither for an
asylum, I <lid not talk of his story, till I saw it in one of the
pamphlets that were written against him in France and that
came over hither.
Friday night, 31st.
Mrs. Boscawen saw a letter from Paris to Miss Sayer this
morning, which says Necker's son-in-law was arrived, and had
announced his father-in-law's promise of return from Basle. I
do not know whether his honour or ambition prompts this com-
pliance surely not his discretion. I am much acquainted
with him, and do not hold him great and profound enough to
quell the present anarchy. If he attempts to moderate for the
King, I shall not be surprised if he falls another victim to
tumultuary jealousy and outrage. All accounts agree in the
violences of the mob against the inoffensive as well as against
the objects of their resentment, and in the provinces, where even
women are not safe in their houses. The hotel of the Due dir
Chatelet, lately built and superb, has been assaulted and the fur-
niture sold by auction ; but a most shocking act of a royalist in
Burgundy, who is said to have blown up a committee of 40 per-
sons, will probably spread the flames of outrage much wider.
When I redde the account, I did not believe it ; but the Bishop
says he hears the Etats have required the King to write to
* Lady Mary Churchill.
VOL. I. N
178 LETTERS. [1789
every foreign power not to harbour the execrable author, who is
fled. I fear this conflagration will not end as rapidly as that in
Holland.]
I have left myself no room but for a codocil of scraps. Mrs.
Darner will be with me to-morrow. With the Pepys's I have
had small dealings yet, from his Chancery and the House of
Lords. Lady Jul. Penn had a very bad fall downstairs about a
week ago at Windsor, and was much bruised, but with no other
bad consequences. The wife Agnes's pen lies fallow, I hope her
pencil does not. I will write but to one if but one will write to
me, and I will not keep a new name I have just assumed, that
of HORACE FONDLEWIVES.
Strawb., Thursday night, Aug. 6, 1789.
By your letter of 1st and 3rd, which I received this morning,
you surprise me by complaining of my silence, when I thought
I had talked y r eyes to death. If I did pause, it was to give
you time to answer. Here is a list of talks since you left Lon-
don : June 27, 30, July 3, 4 (to Miss A.), 9, 16, 19, 31. If
eight letters,* and those no scraps, in less than 40 days, are not
the deeds of something more than a correspondent, I wish I
may never be in love again. If you have not received all these,
the devil take the post-house at York !
I am not going to complain again, but to lament. I now
find I shall not see you before the end of September a month
later than I expected would be nothing to an old husband, but
it is a century to a husband that is old. Mrs, Damer (who
passed Saturday and Sunday here, with her parents), and I,
settled it with them that Mr. Berry and you two should meet
us at Park-place the beginning of September. Now you will
make me hate that month more than ever. Long evenings
without a fire are tiresome, and without two wives insupport-
able I
Major Dixon was here too, and on Sunday the Johnston es
and Mrs. Grenville dined and passed the whole day with us.
On Monday the Conways went to Baling : the Dukef is gone to
Inverary, but returns the beginning of ugly September to carry
* Only six letters out of the eight remain.
| John, fifth Duke of Argyll, born 1720, died 1806.
1789] GENERAL FITZWILLIAM'S WILL. 179
the Duchess* to Italy ; and she, who, poor woman, loves a train,
carries Lady Augusta and Mrs. Clavering with them. She is
very ill indeed.
I have not a penfull of news for you ; no, tho' Mr. Cam-
bridge was here this morning. The arrival of Necker, I sup-
pose, has suspended the horrors of Paris for a moment, till the
mob find that he does not propose to crown them all in the
room of their late King. I shall go to London to-morrow for
one night, yet I am not likely to see anybody that knows much
authentic.
General Fitzwilliam is dead, at Eichmond ; extremely rich.
He has not, I believe, extremely disappointed his nephew the
Viscount, who did not depend upon hopes that had been thrown
out to him, nor is much surprised that the General's upper ser-
vant and his late wife's woman are the principal heirs, as the
Abbe Nichols and others long foresaw. Lord Fitzwilliam has
only an estate of 5501. a-year. The man-servant, whom he
originally took a shoeless boy in Wales playing on the harp,
will have above forty thousand pds. : the woman 3001. a yr. in
long annuities. A will, however, pleases one, you know, if it
pleases one any how. To General Conway (an 'old fellow-
servant in the late Duke of Cumberland's family, as were Lord
Dover and Lord Frederic Cavendish, similar legatees) he has
given 5001. This is so much to my mind, that I shall not
haggle about the rest of the will.
I am rejoiced that you do not go to York races. Whatever I
do myself, I should not like to have the P. of Wales have two
or three wives. Believe me, who have some cause for knowing,
there is nothing so transitory as the happiness of red liveries !
It is not to fill up the page that I now advert to the weather,
which at last is become fine, and tolerably warm; but I enjoy
it, as it will favour your riding, and both, I trust, will give you
full health and spirits by the ugly month's end Your old
rapacious landlord, I flatter myself, will be reasonable when it
is in vain to be otherwise. I should not like the house by
Bushy Park for you, tho' better than none. The personage
that will gain most by your delay will be Tonton, whose long
nose begins to recover its curled rotundity. It is the best-
* Elizabeth Gunning, relict of the Duke of Hamilton, married the Duke
of Argyll 1759.
N 2
ISO LETTERS. [1789
tempered quiet animal alive, which is candid in me to own, as
he, as long as it is light, prefers my footboy, or a bone on the
lawn, to my company. In the evening, as I allow him to lay on
every couch and chair, he thinks me agreeable enough. I must
celebrate the sense of Fidelle, Mrs. Darner's terrier. Without
making the slightest gesture, her mistress only said to her,
' Now,'Fidelle, you may here jump on any chair you please.'
She instantly jumped on the sette ; and so she did in every
room for the whole two days she staid. This is another demon-
stration to me that dogs understand even language, as far as it
relates to their own affairs,
Now I have cleared my character, and that harmony is quite
re-established, I will not attempt to eke out my letter, only to
say that I am sorry there is but one pen in y r family. I
hinted in my last that I would compound for a pencil. Of all
y r visits, that cost me a month, I grudge the least that to your
grandmother and aunt, as I can judge how happy you make
them. It is a good symptom, too, for y r husband. Duty and
gratitude to parents are seldom, I believe, ingredients in bad
wives. Adieu !
Yrs, most Cordially and constantly,
H. W.
Strawberry Hill, Aug. 13. 1789.
I have received at once most kind letters from you both ; too
kind, for you both talk of gratitude. Mercy on me ! Which is
the obliged, and which is the gainer ? Two charming beings,
whom everybody likes and approves, and who yet can be pleased
with the company and conversation and old stories of a Methu-
salem ? or I, who at the end of my days have fallen into more
agreeable society than ever I knew .at any period of my life ?
I will say nothing of y r persons, sense, or accomplishments ;
but where, united with all those, could I find so much sim-
plicity, void of pretensions and affectation? This from any
other man would sound like compliment and flattery ; but in
me, who have appointed myself your guardian, it is a duty to
tell you of j f merits, that you may preserve and persevere in
them. If I ever descry any faults, I will tell you as freely of
them. Be just what you are, and you may dare my reproofs.
I will restrain even reproaches, tho' in jest, if it puts my
sweet Agnes to the trouble of writing when she does not care
for it. It is the extreme equality of my affection for both that
1789] LORD CAMELFORD. 181
makes me jealous if I do not receive equal tokens of friendship
from both ; and though nothing is more just than the observa-
tion of two sisters repeating the same ideas, yet never was that
remark so ill applied. Tho' y r minds are so congenial, I have
long observed how originally each of you expresses her thoughts.
I could repeat to you expressions of both, which I remember as
distinctly as if I had only known either of you. For the future
there shall be perfect liberty amongst us. Either of you shall
write when she pleases ; while my letters are inseparably meant
to both, tho' the direction may contain but one name, lest the
postman should not comprehend a double address.
I can tell you nothing new from France, that is authentic,
only that the explosion at Besanyon, I am assured, was a fable,
grounded on an accident that happened to a man who, going to
see a train laid for blowing up a hill, and having a pipe in his
mouth, some sparks fell, and, setting fire, blew up him, his wife,
and child.
The death of the Abbess of Montmartre was false, too, tho'
written by Mrs. Swinburn to her husband ! What, then, can
one believe ? Nothing. Nay, I can prove that there is a man
living who believes his ears against his own eyes. Listen ! The
minister of our parish told me t'other day that Lord Camelford
was not the author of a pamphlet of which there has been much
talk lately. I s d , ' S r , I doubt you are mistaken.' He replied,
{ S r , I assure you Mr. Cambridge told me an hour ago that he
had just seen the D. of Queensberry, who had affirmed to him
that the pamphlet is not Ld. C.'s.' I lifted up my eye to the
third heaven ! < Mr. C. told you so ? ' Yes, S r , Mr. C.' ( Bless
my soul, S r ,' said I, f why, but four days ago Mr. C., in this
room, told me Mr. Gr. Hardinge had shown him the pamphlet,
and told him he had received it from Lord C., the author. Mr.
C. had read it, and gave me a minute account of the six letters
it contained.'
Was ever so strange a story ? Lo ! what a thirst of news can
do ! it can efface one's memory in four days, and leave no more
impression than if one's memory could not contain a tittle but
what it has received last.
I do not vouch for my next story, but, true or coined, the
answer was good.
The King of Spain consulted his minister whether he should
march 40,000 men into France at the requisition of Louis
182 LETTERS. [1789
Seize. ' I can send them if your Majesty commands me,'
replied the minister, ( but if I do, y r Majesty will soon want
them at home.'
The flame does seem spreading, and no doubt will rage in
Austrian Flanders, where a more real tyrant than poor Louis
has justly provoked them.
I have not seen Mrs. A. very lately, but sh d , like you,, much
disapprove jesting on such dreadful calamities. I am shocked
at a brutality that disgraces us. In London a caricature print
has been published against M. de Luxembourg and some of the
unhappy fugitives, and the Queen of France.
I approve of your suspending a new offer to y r late land-
lord till quite necessary; nay, I have heard of a house at Ted-
dington likely to be vacant by your time, and have ordered an
indirect inquiry to be made. It is much nearer to Twickenham
than t'other side of Bushy Park. Of the Pepys's I have seen
very little yet. I called on them t'other day to ask them to
dine here; but one of their little boys has broken his arm, and
the mother'^will not leave him, nor the husband her.
I have been at Lady Cecilia's this evening since I wrote the
first part of my letter. Mr. Wheler is there, and Mrs. Ander-
son, who has seen, as she told you, swarms of refugees at the
French Embassador's, especially the Lieutenant de Police,
Monsr. de Crosne, who had the rope round his neck, but made
his escape while a new tumult arose. They are savages, who
have known so little of liberty that they take murder for it.
G-ood night !
The two following letters, addressed to Miss Berry from
Mr. Eichard Owen Cambridge, allude to some of the
incidents which at this time interested the society of
Twickenham :
Greneral Fitzwilliam's will is a disgrace to misanthropy.
Some large and useless legacies to people who neither want nor
will be thankful, consume such a portion of his large wealth as
would have made some others (L d Herbert, for instance) com-
fortable. To him not a farthing. To L d Fitz 5001. a-year
in Northamp re . His servant, Harper Tom Jones, residuary
legatee, above 40,OOOL He came to L d Fitz ; said he was
overpower'd ; wish'd he had had only a suitable provision ; did
not know what to do with his fortune ; had no friend ; beg'd
1789] LETTER FROM MR. R. C. CAMBRIDGE. 183
his Ld p ' s protection; offered all the books and pictures, and
anything else his Ld p w d accept. L d F said to me: If the
Gren 1 had known he w d have behaved so, he w d not have
left it him. I dare say if he looks upon Eichmond from his
present situation, he is mortified to find his purpose is but half
executed if misbehaviour is not added to privation.
I hate to converse with you so abruptly, but I have writ the
main substance, and, tho' in haste to go out, I must use this
day's frank, for Selwyn won't return till Saturday. He lent me
a book explaining proverbs, which I caution you against buying,
for it is not satisfactory. He had not read, but just bought it
for the design, which is good, but the execution tiresome and
not conclusive.
Pepys has been very unfortunate. His sweet patient boy's
arm was broke. A thief in his house (I won't say of which sex)
has taken more linen. It shews, however, the first was ap-
proved, and as the sample was good the customers encrease.
He received this nonsense with great good humour as he call'd
on me yesterday,
And sat like Patience on a spavin'd poney
Smiling at Theft.
Saturday night, Aug. 15.
This morning Lord Dover enquired after you and y r sister,
and where you were, with so much interest that one would have
thought there had been no such thing as beauty or parts in
Holland. To try his sincerity, and to prove to you that it
is true that he shew'd this interest, I told him he must give it
under his hand, which he has done on the direction of this
letter, and thereby made me the less reluctant to force upon you
whatever nonsense may come into my head to blot this fair
paper with. But first let me copy what is worth your seeing if
you have paid any attention to the assertions, and then to the
false insinuations of the ( Morning Post' :
Extract of a letter dated Brussels, Aug. 7th.
' I certainly never wrote, much less published, any pamphlet
in France, or about French politics. You will, therefore, on
this authority, have the goodness to contradict the report, &c.
' CAMELFORD.'
184 LETTEKS. [1789
Pray tell your father I send him no politics, because there
are more than enough from France in all the papers. I wish I
c d distinguish what is true. You may, however, credit much
of robbery and plunder by these words, w h the D. of Dorset
spoke to a friend of mine last Friday. There are at this time
twelve million of men an/rid in France. You'll say, how can
they be kept in order till disarm'd, and may they not do all
they are said to be doing ?
Monday, 17th.
I beg my best comp 8 to Mr. Berry, which is all I can write
this morn., being interrupted.
I am, d r Madam, most sincerely y rs ,
R. 0. CAMBRIDGE.
Mr. Walpole's search for a house was at length suc-
cessful.
Strawberry Hill, Thursday night, Aug. 20, 1789.
If the worst comes to the worst, I think I can secure you a
house at Teddington, a very comfortable one, very reasonably,
and a more agreeable one than the Cecilian destination at Bushy-
gate ; * at least, more agreeable to my Lord Castlecomer, for it is
nearer to me by half. That Strawberry proverb I must explain
to you for your future use. There was an old Lady Castlecomer,
who had an only son, and he had a tutor called Roberts, who
happened to break his leg. A visitant lamented the accident to
her ladyship. The old Eock replied, f Yes, indeed, it is very
inconvenient to my Lord Castlecomer ! ' This saying was adopted
40 years ago into the phraseology of Strawberry, and is very
expressive of the selfish apathy towards others, which refers
everything to its own centre, and never feels any shock that does
not vibrate to its own interest.
The house in question is at the entrance of Teddington. You
may shake hands with Mr. Pepys out of the window. A Mrs.
Armstrong took it for one year at fourscore pounds, but is tired
of making hay, and minded to leave it at Michaelmas ; but says
that her landlord has behaved so well towards her, that tho' she
will pay the whole, she will give it up to him at quitting it. I
sent to him to inquire what he would ask for October and
November. He replied I should name my own price, and I am
Lady Cecilia had informed Miss Berry that a house was to be let on
reasonable terms at Bushy, at the end of September.
1789] HOUSE AT TEDDINGTON. 185
to have the refusal. I think he cannot expect above 201. at
most. All I now dread is Mad. Armstrong's loitering into Octo-
ber. Tell me your pleasure on this. Let the Duke of Nor-
thumberland's steward rust with his avarice !
I know nothing, nothing at all. Indeed, I am too much
engrossed by a sad misfortune too likely to fall on my family
and me ! Dear Lady Dysart is in the utmost danger. Her case
is pronounced to be water on her breast, and every day may be
her last! She suffers considerably, but with her unalterable
patience ! But I will not afflict your tender hearts with dwelling
on so melancholy a subject.
Lady Juliana Penn is still lying on a couch. What she
thought a bruise on her leg has by neglect become a wound.
Her sister, Lady Harriet, was here the other morning with her
daughters, and I showed them the whole house myself, as they
are excellent people, and the daughters have taste. The young-
est especially struck me by her knowledge of pictures, which she
immediately showed she understood. This of my house being
shown is a dangerous subject for me to tap, such a grievance is
it become ; I have actually tickets given out till the middle
of the week after next. I write two or three every day, or
as many excuses. Pray come, and make my evenings at least
pleasant.
Summer is arrived at last, tho' as much after due time as if
it was one of the Ton. It is more bounteous, however, and will
bless the poor by lowering bread. The whole face of the coun-
try is spread with luxurious harvests and gilt with shining suns.
The Johnstones are gone to Park-place, where Lady Dysart's
situation prevented my meeting them. Mr. and Mrs. Anderson
are cooing tete-a-tete at Hampton, as if they were Venus's own
turtles left at home in her stable. They told me that on Tues-
day night the Duchess of Argyle walked into old Bushy's as-
sembly at Hampton Court, but did look too like an apparition !
I have exhausted all my nothings, and if I have no letter
from you, shall send this away, meager as it is, because I want
to know your will about the Teddingtonian Villa.
Friday afternoon.
Monsieur de Teddington has been with me, and is all accom-
modating if Mrs. Armstrong will not stay till after the first week
in October. I asked the price ; he said, should you think ten
guineas a month too much, if I did, he would lower. Therefore,
186 LETTEES. [1789
no doubt you may have it for eighteen for the two months, and
you may tell me to offer sixteen. Pray let me have an answer
soon, for I will convey to Mrs. A. that she will hurt her landlord
if she lingers beyond St. Michaelmas.
I think, if my account should suit you, the best way will be,
as soon as you arrive in town, for Mr. Berry and you two to
come and lodge with me for a day or two, and then you can go
and view your future nest at your leisure, and that you may
insert, with a little cavil at the price, in your answer to me,
which will make your assent conditional.
Saturday.
I have no letter, so this departs ; but pray answer it directly.
Mr. Walpole thus expresses his delight at the approval
of his negotiations for a house :
[Strawberry Hill, Thursday evening, Aug. 27, 1789.
I jumped for joy ; that is, my heart did, which is all the
remain of me that is in statu jumpante, at the receipt of your
letter this morning, which tells me you approve of the house at
Teddington. How kind you was to answer so incontinently ! I
believe you borrowed the best steed from the races. I have sent
to the landlord to come to me to-morrow.
You ask how you have deserved such attentions why, by
deserving them ; by every kind of merit, and by that superlative
one to me, your submitting to throw away so much time on a
forlorn antique ; you two, who without specifying particulars
(and you must at least be conscious that you are not two frights)
might expect any fortune and distinctions, and do delight all
companies. On which side lies the wonder ? Ask me no more
such questions, or I will cram you with reasons.
I had promised Mr. Barrett to make a visit to my gothic child
his house on Sunday, but I have written to-day to excuse myself;
so I have to the Duchess of Eichmond,* who wanted me to meet
her mother, sister,f and General Conway, at Goodwood next
week.
* Lady Mary Bruce, daughter of the Earl of Ailesbury, by Caroline
Campbell, daughter of General John Campbell, afterwards Duke of Argyle.
t Anne Seymour Conway, only child of the Dowager Countess of Ailes-
bury, by Marshal Henry Seymour Conway, her second husband ; she was
thus half-sister to the Duchess of Richmond.
1789] THE HOUSE SECURED. 187
I wish Lady Fitzwilliam * may not hear the same bad news
as I expect, in the midst of her royal visitors. Her sister, the
Duchess of St. Albans, is dying in the same way as Lady Dysart,
and for some days has not been in her senses.
How charming you are to leave those festivities for your good
parents, who I do not wonder are impatient for you ! I, who am
old enough to be your great grandmother, know one needs not
be your near relation to long for your return. Of all your tour,
next to your duteous visits, I must approve the jaunt to the sea ;
I believe in its salutary air more than in the whole College and
all its works.]
Mrs. Armstrong's secession is doubly fortunate. Your last
year's mansion is actually taken by Lord Cathcart, and what is
incredible, his wife is to lie in there. It must be in the round
summer-house.
[Friday.
Well, I have seen him, and nobody was ever so accommoda-
ting ! He is as courteous as a candidate for a county. You may
stay in his house till Christmas if you please, and shall pay but
twenty pounds : and if more furniture is wanting, it shall be
supplied.]
Mrs. Armstrong talks of not quitting but the first week in
October ; but as she is prodigiously timorous about her health,
he thinks the first round shower will send her to London. In
any case you know you may come and stay in your conjugal
castle till the house of y r separate maintenance is vacant for
you. I was curious to learn whence Mr. Wickes contracted all
this honnetete. I do not believe I have discovered, for all I can
trace of his history is, that he married a dowager mistress of
General Harvey, whom the General called Monimia, though not
the meekest of her calling, and with whom (Wickes) she did
not at all agree. I am sure she was the aggressor, as he has
captivated Mrs. Armstrong and me by his flowing benignity.
Besides, I have no notion how one can use one's wife ill, even if
one has two.
Berkley Square, August 29.
You^will laugh at me, for I am just come to town, though it
* Charlotte Ponsonby, daughter of the Earl of Bessborough, wife of Earl
Fitzwilliam. George IV., when Prince of Wales, and his brother the
Duke of York, who this day attended York races, were going to receive a
great entertainment at Wentworth House, the seat of Earl Fitzwilliam, in
Yorkshire.
188 LETTERS. [1789
is the first real summer day we have had ; but I had a little
business, and return to-morrow. As this very fine weather is
arrived so late, I suppose it is some fugitive heat that has
escaped from the troubles on the Continent, which are spreading
along the Khine. I hope it has left its sting behind it, and will
not affect us who have every reason to be happy. Adieu.
Strawberry Hill, Sept. 4, 1789.
I am charmed that Mr. Berry ratifies my negotiation for the
house at Teddington ; and I do not doubt now but Mrs. Arm-
strong will quit it even before Michaelmas : for, though Satur-
day last was so glorious, it was the setting not the rising sun of
summer. It rained a torrent all Sunday evening; so it has
done almost every day since, and did last night, and does at this
instant. I grieve for the incomplete harvest ; but, as it is an
ill-rain that brings nobody good, I must rejoice if it washes
away Dame Armstrong. Mr. Wickes I am sure will give me
the earliest notice of her departure, for, as Spenser says,
A semely man our hoste is withal
To ben a marshal in a lordis hall.
[You ask whether I will call you wise or stupid for leaving
York races in the middle neither : had you chosen to stay, you
would have done rightly. The more young persons see, where
there is nothing blameable, the better, as increasing the stock
of ideas early will be a resource for age. To resign pleasure to
please tender relations is amiable, and superior to wisdom : for
wisdom, however laudable, is but a selfish virtue. But I do
decide peremptorily that it was very prudent to decline the in-
vitation to Wentworth House, which was obligingly given ; but
as I am very proud for you, I should have disliked your being
included in a mobbish kind of cohue. You two are not to go
where any other two Misses would have been equally priees ;
and where people would have been thinking of the Princes more
than of the Berries. Besides, Princes are so rife now, that be-
sides my sweet nephew * in the Park, we have another at Eich-
mond. The Duke of Clarence has taken Mr. Henry Hobart's
house, point-blank over against Mr. Cambridge's, which will
* William Henry, Duke of Gloucester, brother to George III. and father
to the last Duke. He had married the Dowager Countess of Waldegrave,
niece to Lord Orford.
1789] WENTWOETH CASTLE. 189
make the good woman of that mansion cross herself piteously,
and stretch the throats of the Blatant beast at Sudbrook,* and
of all the other pious matrons a la ronde : for his R. H., to divert
loneliness, has brought with him [a Miss Polly Finch], who
being still more averse to solitude, declares that any tempter
would make even Paradise more agreeable than a constant
tete-a-tete.
Gra'mercy for your intention of seeing Wentworth Castle ; it
is my favourite of all great seats : such a variety of ground, of
wood and water ; and almost all executed and disposed with so
much taste by the present earl ! Mr. Gilpin sillily could see
nothing but faults there ! The new front is in my opinion one
of the lightest and most beautiful buildings on earth and pray
like the little gothic edifice and its position in the menagerie ;
I recommended it, and had it drawn by Mr. Bentley from Chi-
chester Cross. Do not bring me a pair of scissars from Sheffield ;
I am determined nothing shall cut our loves, tho' I should live
out the rest of Methusalem's term as you kindly wish, and as I
can believe, though you are my wives, for I am persuaded my
Agnes wishes so too, don't you ?
At night.
I am just come from Cambridge's, where I have not been in
an evening time out of mind. Major Dixon, alias the 'charm-
ing man,'f is there, but I heard nothing of the emperor's
rickets ; J a great deal and many horrid stories of the violences
in France : for his brother, the Chevalier Jerningham, is just
arrived from Paris. You have heard of the destruction of
32 chateaux in Burgundy, at the instigation of a demon, who
has since been broken on the rack. There is now assembled near
Paris a body of 16,000 deserters, daily increasing, who they
fear will encamp and dictate to the capital, in spite of their
* Caroline Campbell, Baroness Greenwich.
f Edward Jerningham, Esq., of Cossey in Norfolk, uncle to the present
Lord Stafford. He was distinguished in his day by the name of l Jerning-
ham the poet;' but it was an unpoetical day; the stars of Byron, of
Baillie, and of Scott had not risen on the horizon. The more merited dis-
tinction of Jerningham was the friendship, affection, and intimacy which his
amiable character had inspired to the author and all of his society mentioned
in these letters. M.B.
I This alluded to something said in a character which Jerningham had
assumed for the amusement of a society some time before at Marshal
Conway's. M.S.
190 LETTERS. [1789
militia of 20,000 bourgeois. It will soon, I suppose, ripen to
several armies and a civil war : a fine acheminement to liberty.
My poor niece * is still alive, though weaker every day, and
pronounced irrecoverable. Still she is calm, and behaves with
the patience of a martyr.]
Strawberry Hill, Sept. 13, 1789.
I don't wonder that y r grandmother is unwilling to part with
you, when you sacrifice the amendment of y r health to her, and
give up bathing for her satisfaction ; but, between ourselves, I
do not admire her for accepting the sacrifice. You bid me be
very kind to make up for your parting with her and your
friends. I am like poor Cordelia :
I am sure my love's
More pond'rous than my tongue.
She reserved half her affection from her father for her husband.
I will keep none of mine from my wives for my grandmother ;
but I promise nothing. Come and try.
I will see Mr. Wickes and know more particularly about Mrs.
Armstrong's motions. I shall be a little fearful of haggling with
him, lest I should sour his complaisance, which hitherto has been
all sugar. Still I will not be grandmaternal, and prefer myself
to your interest.
I have had a most melancholy scene with the loss of dear
Lady Dysart, and the affliction of the family, tho' her release
was to be wished, and for which she wished earnestly herself. We
have the comfort of finding that she is full as much regretted as
she was known ; indeed, a more faultless being exists not within
my knowledge. I will transcribe some lines that I have written
on her, which have not the merit of poetry, but a much more
uncommon one, that of being an epitaph in which there is no
exaggeration ; however, I beg you will not give a copy of it :
Adieu ! sweet shade ! complete was thy career,
Tho' lost too soon, and premature thy bier ;
For each fair character adorned thy life
Of daughter, sister, friend, relation, wife.
Yet, lest unaltered fortune should have seem'd
The source whence virtues so benignly beam'd,
Long-mining illness prov'd thy equal soul,
And patience, like a martyr's, crOwn'd the whole.
* Charlotte Walpole, Countess of Dysart, daughter of Sir Edward
Walpole.
1789] EPITAPH ON LADY DYSART. 191
Pain could not sour, whom blessings had not spoil'd;
Nor death affright, whom not a vice had soil'd.
You shall hear no more on this sad subject, tho' I have
nothing else that will much amuse you : for, besides confinement
with my relations, I have been a prisoner in my own house for
some days, in consequence of a violent fall I had last week, in
which it is wonderful that I lost nor life, nor limb, nor even a bone.
I went to sit with my cousins, the three Philips's, on Hampton
Court Green ; it was dusk ; there was a very low step at the door,
I did not see it; it tripped me up. I fell headlong on the
stones, and against the frame of a table at the door, and bat-
tered myself so much, that my whole hip is as black as my shoe
for above half a yard long and a quarter wide, besides bruising
one hand, both knees, and my left elbow, into which it brought
the gout next day. Now, pray admire my lightness : if I had
weighed a straw, what mischief might not have happened to
me ? nay, I have had very little pain ; and the gout, not to be
out of the fashion, is gone too : and I should have been abroad
this morning, if I had not preferred writing to you.
I shall go to Park-place on Monday next for two or three days,
and then come back to be ready to receive you ; but you have not
been very gracious, nor said a word of accepting my invitation
till the house at Teddington is ready for you. Pray let me know
when I may expect you, that I may not enter into any engage-
ment, even for the evening.
As the hour of my seeing you again approaches, and as I have
nothing of the least import to tell, I shall not try to lengthen this
to its usual complement, though the verses have saved some of
my paper. Essays, that act the part of letters, are mighty in-
sipid things, and when one has nothing occasional to say, it is
better to say nothing.
The weather has been so cold since Monday, that for these
two days I have had the carpenter stopping chinks in window
frames, and listing the door of the blue room, which I destine
to wife Agnes. Winds will get into these old castles. Sultana
Maria is to sleep in the red room, where the Sultan himself
resides when he has the gout, and which his haughtiness always
keeps very comfortable. Adieu !
The following letter, addressed to Somerset Street, to
greet Miss Berry on her return from the country, is the
192 LETTERS. [1789
last written to her and her sister before their taking
possession of the house Mr. Walpole had secured for their
occupation at Teddington :
Strawberry Hill, Wednesday night, Sept. 30, 1789.
When an ancient gentleman marries, it is his best excuse that
he wants a nurse, which I suppose was the motive of Solo-
mon, who was the wisest of mortals, and a most puissant and
opulent monarch, .for marrying a thousand wives in his old age
when, I conclude, he was very gouty. I, in humble imitation of
that sapient king, and no mines of Ophir flowing into my exche-
quer, espoused a couple of helpmates, but being less provident
than the son of David, suffered both to ramble into the land of
Groshen when I most wanted their attendance. I tell a great
story : I did not want you : on the contrary, I am delighted that
you did not accept my invitation. I should have been mortified
to the death to have had you in my house when I am lying help-
lessly on my couch, or going to bed early from pain. In short, I
came from Park-place last Thursday, suffered a good deal yes-
terday evening, and blessed myself you were not here. Did you
ever think it would come to that ? I am a great deal better to-
day; but I fear it will scarce be possible for me to be in town
by Saturday. In the mean time here is the state of affairs:
Mr. Wickes goes into Norfolk to-morrow for three weeks to
shoot. I told him you was much displeased at his asking new
terms, and that till you should come to town I could say nothing
positive to him, and he must not depend on anything till then.
He was all penitence and complaisance. I told him I must have
a lease signed ; he said there was no necessity for it. ' Oh, yes,'
I said, * but there is.' He answered, if I would send one down
to him, signed by Mr. Berry, he would sign it too ; but what I
shall do when I know y r determination is to send to Mr. Wickes
a copy of the few lines which Mr. Pepys, whom I have consulted
twice, had from Lady Dudley, and which shall specify that you
are to pay but 201. , in full of all demands, from the time you
shall take possession of the house to December 25th, and when
Wickes returns that agreement signed, Mr. Berry will sign it
too. Thus, you see, I have acted with the utmost caution, nor
have been to the house, nor sent anybody to see it, that Wickes
might not say we had taken possession.
Now, hold a council incontinently, and let me know its decree ;
1789] LINES INSCRIBED TO THE MISS BERRYS. 193
or why should not Mr. Berry come to me immediately, if I can-
not come, as I fear ? You know here is a dinner and a bed
always at his service, which will save you a great deal of time.
I am not quite for having your house in town new painted at
this time of year when it cannot dry fast. There is nothing so
very unwholesome as the smell of wet paint. Cannot you make
shift as it is for another year ? I never perceived its wan ting it:
you do not propose to give assemblies and concerts.
If I hear nothing on Sunday morning, I shall conclude you
arrived too late. Thus I think I have foreseen and said all that
can be necessary, and perhaps more like a nurse than a person
that wants one.
Be sure that I find you both looking remarkably well ; not
that I have any reason for desiring it, but as I am not able to
nurse you. Adieu !
It was at the close of this year that Mr. Walpole thus
inscribed his Catalogue of Strawberry Hill to the Miss
Berrys :
[TO
THE DEAR SISTERS
MARY AND AGNES BERRY
THIS DESCRIPTION
OF
HIS VILLA AT STRAWBERRY HILL,
WHICH THEY OFTEN MADE DELIGHTFTJLL
BY THEIR COMPANY, CONVERSATION, AND TALENTS,
IS OFFERED
BY
HORACE WALPOLE,
FROM A HEART OVERFLOWING WITH
ADMIRATION, ESTEEM, AND FRIENDSHIP,
HOPING
THAT LONG AFTER HE SHALL BE NO MORE,
IT MAY, WHILE AMUSING THEM,
RECALL SOME KIND THOUGHTS
OF A MOST DEVOTED
AND AFFECTIONATE HUMBLE SERVANT.
December 1789.]
Lines inscribed by Mr. Walpole in a copy of his Catalogue of Strawberry
Hill given to M. and A. Berry long before it was published. M. B.
VOL. I.
194 LETTERS. [1790
LETTERS,
1790.
Miss BERRY'S entry for the year 1790 is c Summer for
three weeks in Montpelier Eow. Go abroad in October ;
winter between Florence and Pisa.'
How long Mr. Berry and his daughters remained at
Teddington does not transpire, but letters from their
friend Mrs. Cholmley* were addressed to Miss Berry
in Somerset Street as early in the year as the month of
February 1790.
Mrs. Cholmley was one of Miss Berry's early and
intimate friends, and seems to have been well aware of
the melancholy which pervaded her character, though
little perceived by those who saw only the genial warmth
and intelligent vivacity which distinguished her manner in
society. In a letter dated Brandsby, May 25, she says :
Your letter has grieved my heart and yet relieved part of
its anxiety, which had been directed to some more embodied
grief than you have to complain of. . . . The dear Agnes'
better health and looks will revive you, and when your mind
has had its own melancholy swing, I trust it will settle again to
its usual balance. You are naturally deeply thoughtful ; such
a mind as yours can, indeed, scarce be otherwise.
The following letters from Mr. Walpole were addressed
to Miss Berry at Lymington, where they passed a short
time during the summer :
* Mrs. Cholmley, sister to Sir Harry Englefield, married to Mr. Cholmley
of Brandsby, Yorkshire.
1790] FRENCH NEWS. 195
Strawberry Hill, July 25, 1790.
I wrote a bit of a letter to you t'other day in such a hurry,
that I don't know what I said tho' I fear more than I intended
but no more of that.
My neighbourhood, tho' Richmond is brimful! both of French
and English, furnishes no more entertainment than usual, for
which I am much more sorry on your account than on my own,
for my letters will not be amusing. My personal history is
short and dull. I have made my chief visits ; my offices advance,
and I have got in most of my hay, and such a quantity, that I
believe, it will pay for half a yard of my building. All news
have centered in elections ; I care about none, nor have listened
to any. They and the pressgangs have swept the roads of foot-
pads and highwaymen, who hide themselves, or are gone to
vote. Whether they who used to come to see my house are of
either complexion, I don't know, but I have had less demand
for tickets than usual what else can I tell you ?
I am glad you staid long enough at Park- place to see all its
beauties. The cottage and all its purlieus are delicious, so is
the bridge and Isis, and the Druids' Temple seems to have been
born and bred on the spot where it stands. I wish you had
seen Nuneham too, which is another of my first favourites.
Mr. Berry will want news of the Spanish War, but I can send
him none, nor do I at all believe that it will come to a head.
France seems more likely to ripen to confusion; they go on
levelling so madly, that I shall wonder if everybody does not
think himself loosened from all restraints and bound to conform
to none. A pretty experiment to throw society, with all its
improved vices and desires, into a state of nature, which in its
outset had many of them to discover, and no worse instrument
than the jawbone of an ass to execute mischief with. That
serene Prince the Duke of Orleans has bowed to the abolition
of titles, and calls himself Monsr. Capet, from whom he may
be descended, if he is not from the Bourbons; but as he has
failed in being such another usurper, I wonder he did not avoid
the allusion.
Since I began my letter, I have called on Madame de
Boufflers, and heard but too much news. Monsr. d'Olan, a
worthy man, and nephew of my dear friend Mad. du Deffand,
has been taken out of his bed, to which he was confined by the
o2
196 LETTERS. [1790
gout, at Avignon, and hanged by the mob! I have said for
this year that I am happy she is dead ; and now how much that
reflection is fortified ! The Prime Minister of Spain has been
stabbed by a Frenchman, but is not dead the wretch is taken.
I hope Mr. Berry will cease to reckon me a Boyalist, because I
do not think that liberty is cheaply purchased by murders and
every kind of violence and injustice.
You must tack this half letter to that of t'other day, and call
it a whole one. You are sure I must want matter, not inclina-
tion, when I don't send you what pedants call a just volume.
Pray return from Lymington with blooming countenances ; you
must sit for your pictures before your long journey. I have
not mentioned that article lately, because you have both looked
so pale, nor indeed has the subject been so agreeable as when I
first proposed it ; portraits are but melancholy pleasures in long
absence. With what different emphasis does one say adieu ! for
a month, and for a year. I scarce guess how one can say the
latter alas ! I must learn.
Mr. Berry and his daughters had made their arrange-
ments for a tour on the Continent, and Mr. Walpole's
sadness at the thoughts of parting with his friends for a
twelvemonth is very apparent in the following letter ; but
his regret was much increased by the most unbounded
alarm at the prospect of their going abroad, and he used
every argument founded on the state of the Continent to
dissuade them from undertaking so hazardous a journey.
[Strawberry Hill, Saturday night, July 3, 1790.
How kind to write the very moment you arrived ! but pray
do not think that, welcome as your letters are, I would purchase
them at the price of any fatigue to you a proviso I put in
already against moments when you may be more weary than
by a journey to Lymington. You make me happy by the good
accounts of Miss Agnes ; and I should be completely so, if the
air of the sea could be so beneficial for you both, as to make
your farther journey unnecessary to your healths, at least for
some time; for and I protest solemnly that not a personal
thought enters into the consideration I shall be excessively
,1790] FRENCH JUBILEE BANQUET. 197
alarmed at your going to the Continent, when such a frenzy has
seized it. You see by the papers that the flame has burst out
at Florence can Pisa then be secure ? Flanders can be no safe
road, and is any part of France so ? I told you in my last of the
horrors at Avignon. At Madrid the people are riotous against
the war with us, and prosecuted I am persuaded it will not be ;
but the demon of Graul is busy everywhere nay, its imps are
here.]
Home Tooke declared on the hustings t'other day, that he
would exterminate those locusts the nobility. Lord Lansdowne,
whose family-name I suspect to have been Petit (a French one),
not Petty, is suspected to have set Tooke at work, and, like
Monsr. Capet, would waive his Marquisate to compass a revo-
lution. Capet is gone to the new St. Barthelemi or Jubilee on
the 14th. The banquet-tables, it is said, are to extend a ligue,
for league is not French enough ; the King is to be declared
Emperor of the Franks, but the dignity not to be hereditary,
that Polish massacres may be so.
[The Etats, who are as foolish as atrocious, have printed lists
of the surnames which the late noblesse are to assume or resume,
as if people did not know their own names.
Mrs. Darner tells me in a letter to-day, that Lady Ailesbury
was charmed with you both (which did not surprise either of
us), and says, she never saw two persons have so much taste for
the country, who have no place of their own. It may be so, but
begging her ladyship's pardon and yours, I think that people
who have a place of their own are mighty apt not to like any
other.
I feel all the kindness of your determination of coming to
Twickenham in August, and shall certainly say no more against
it, tho' I am certain that I shall count every day that passes,
and when they are passed, they will leave a melancholy im-
pression on Strawberry, that I bad rather have affixed to London.
The two last summers were infinitely the pleasantest I ever
passed here, for I never before had an agreeable neighbourhood.
Still I loved the place, and had no comparisons to draw. Now,
the neighbourhood will remain, and will appear ten times worse,
with the aggravation of remembering two months that may have
some transient roses, but I am sure, lasting thorns. You tell
me I do not write with my usual spirits at least I will suppress
198 LETTERS. [1790
as much as I can, the want of them, tho' I am a bad dis-
sembler.]
Miss Cambridge told me you had charged her to search for
a house for you. I did bid Philip, but I believe not with the
eagerness of last year, and I am persuaded she will execute
your commission punctually.
The home-chapter will be dull as usual. The Boydels and
Nichols's breakfasted here yesterday, in return for their civilities
at the Shakespeare Gallery. On Tuesday is to come Lady
Herries and her clan.
It has rained all day, and I have not been out of my house.
In the morning I had three or four visitors, particularly my
nephew, George Cholmondeley, with an account of his marriage
settlements and the toothache. To-night I am writing to you
comfortably by the fireside, for we are forced to raise an English
July in a hot-house, like grapes. Pray tell me much of your
personal history, and what company you have. I care much
more about Lymington than all the elections in the kingdom,
and I seem to think that you interest yourself as much about
les amusemens des eaux de Strawberri. Good night.
Strawberry Hill, Friday night, July 10, 1790.
I begin my letter to-night, but shall not send it away till I
hear again from you, that our letters may not jostle without
answering one another ; but how can I pass my solitary evenings
so well as by talking to you? I laid on my couch for three
days, but as never was so tractable a gout as mine, I have
walked all over the house to-day without assistance. I did long
to peep at my building, but as it has been a cold dog-day, I
would not risk a relapse, and about dinner we had a smart
shower. Well, you cry, and was it worth while to write only to
tell me it is cold ? We know that at Lymington. Oh yes ! it
was to tell you other guess-news than of heat or cold overhead.
In short, as whatever may directly or indirectly affect you
and your sister, is my principal occupation at present, I must
transcribe two passages from The Times of the day before
yesterday.
' The subjects of Leopold have assumed the cockade in Leg-
horn, and delivered to the Eegency a Bill of Rights:
'On the 31st of May, the people in a tumultuous manner
broke open two churches at Leghorn. They then advanced to
1790] STATE OF THE COXTIXEXT. 199
the quarter of the Jews, threatening entirely to extirpate them.
Some soldiers were hastily assembled and ordered to fire on
the mutineers. Six were killed and a great number wounded.
Still however the disturbances continued. They have opened
other churches, and converted them into magazines, and have
assumed the red and white cockade. The senate and governor
have endeavoured to persuade them to adopt peaceable measures.
They have answered by a memorial, stating their civil and
religious grievances and demanding redress.'
Thus Pisa, you see, is no sojourning place for you. Indeed,
as I told Miss Agnes in my last, till some of the ferment in
Europe subsides, it would be very unadvised to change this
country for any other. Mrs. Boscaweri, who came to visit my
gout this morning, told me that Mr. Prescot, coming from
Avignon, where poor Monsr. Dolan and four other persons have
been hanged for refusing to disavow the Pope, was thrown into
prison in France, and detained there all night, before suffered to
prosecute his journey through France. The Duchess of Glou-
cester, who called on me afterwards, says, the like troubles are
broken out in Switzerland. Surely this is not a season for
expeditions to the Continent.
Monsr. Capet has been twice at Brighthelmstone, and had
sent Madame Buffon before to feel his way* She and others
have warned him not to embark; he has given it up, has sent
for his pictures for sale, and perhaps with them may buy an
Irish Peerage. Lord Carlisle and Lord William Gordon were
going to Paris for the 14th, but hear it would be too perilous
a service il n'y feroit pas bon pour tout aristocrat !
General Conway in his last letter asked me if it was not a
theme to moralize on, this earthquake that has swallowed up all
Montmorencis, Guises, Birons, and great names ? I reply, it
makes me immoralize ; I am outrageous at the destruction of
all the visions that make history delectable : without some
romance it is but a register of crimes and calamities, and the
French seem preparing to make their country one universal St.
Bartelemi : they are instructing the populace to lay everything
waste ! What is to restrain them? Will they obey those masters
who tell them, preach to them, that all are equal ; but who,
good men ! pay themselves twelve livres a-day for propagating
that doctrine ? I shall wonder if their equals do not recollect
200 LETTEKS. [1790
having an equal right to twelve livres a-day ! Oh ! go not into
that conflagration, nor whither its sparks extend ! come to the
banks of the gentle placid Thames, Dor strew its shores with
alarm and anxiety by leaving them. How I wished for you
to-day yes, don't you believe me ? and particularly at three
o'clock. Mrs. Eoscawen was sitting with me here in the blue
bow- window ; in a moment the river was covered with little
yachts and boats, the road and the opposite meadow with
coaches, chaises, horsemen, women, and children. Mr. Greorge
Hardinge had given three guineas to be rowed for by four two-
oared boats from his Eagman's castle to Lady Dudley's and
back, so we saw the conflux go and return. I had not heard of
it, but all Eichmond had, and was descended from its heights.
Mrs. Boscawen says you have at Weymouth the Dowager
Duchess Plantagenet, or, as I translate her, Broomstick ; beau-
coup d'honneur, but I don't believe she enlivens you like a
boat-race. Adieu, jusqu'au resume.
12th.
It is but Monday evening, and I expect no letter till to-
morrow, but I must go on ; I have new horrors and dangers to
relate. Monsr. Cordon, who was Sardinian Minister here, and
now at Paris, fell under the displeasure of the new despots, the
mob ; they met a man whom they took for Cordon, and sans
dire gare ! hanged him. Madame de St. Alban, who you know
is a pinchbeck-piece of mine, was returning to Ld. Cholmondeley
from Paris, but was arrested at the gate, and had all her papers
seized and examined. While I was writing this paragraph, Mrs.
Grenville called to see me, and had just seen a Mrs. Hamlyn,
lately returned from Italy with her husband ; between Boulogne
and Calais they were stopped seven times by vagabonds liberty-
drunk, and obliged to drink with them ; and yesterday, I
heard of a Mr. Prescot being stopped in France and imprisoned
for a night ; but 'tis for Wednesday that everybody trembles.
The son of Mad. de Boufflers has written to his mother in a
style of taking leave of her and his wife and child, as not
knowing if he shall ever see them again. I do not coin these
tragedies to frighten you, but they will terrify me if you still
think of setting your foot on French ground.
What say you to that mischievous lunatic Lord Stanhope,*
* Charles, third Earl of Stanhope, died 1816.
1790] CORRECTION OF AN OLD PROVERB. 201
who is to celebrate the French jubilee at the Crown and Anchor ?
I was told to-day, but have not seen it, of an excellent advertise-
ment against him from the oysterwomen of Billingsgate, pro-
fessing their feloyalty, and desiring to be associated to his
banquet.
I am still confined, but, like others who are well, sitting by
the fire in short, one must have fire-summer, if sun-summer
is not at hand. Mrs. Anderson and Mr. Wheeler, called on
me this morning from Hampton ; she looks lean and ill, and
goes to Ramsgate ; her parents next week to Tunbridge for a
month. One would think all the English were ducks, they are
for ever waddling to the water. But I must stop, I shall not
have an inch of paper for to-morrow.
Tuesday.
It is past twelve and no post yet, and ours go away at one.
Lady Valetort was brought to bed of a dead daughter yesterday,
but Lady Mt. Edgcumbe is more likely to die of the mis-
carriage than she. Here is y r letter, I do not like y r resolution
not being shaken. I will say no more, but that I have not
invented one of the circumstances I have stated in this or my
last. I am grieved that Miss Agnes does not advance. About
me you may be quite easy ; my lameness is no bigger than a
limp. I only do not go out because I dread a relapse ; and as
I have company quantum sufficit in a morning, and can write
to you all the evening, I do not mind voluntary confinement.
It rains again this minute cold rain. I am sorry your coast is
as bad.
I have nothing to add to my letter but a new edition or
correction of an old proverb, that I made this morning on Lady
Cecilia's and everybody's jaunts to watering-places ; Home is
never Home, the? ever so comely. Mrs. Udney is just come in,
the post is just going out ; I must finish abruptly if my letters
ever do finish.
Strawberry Hill, Saturday, July 17, 17CO.
I have received yours of the 14th, and since you seem so
determined on y r journey, I shall say little more on the sub-
ject; tho' if my arguments have had no weight, yours, I assure
you, are as far from convincing me. That Miss Crawford or
Mrs. Lockart may have met with no disturbances on their
routes is probably true, but proves nothing as to safety ; nor,
202 LETTERS. [1790
when there is so much danger, does it become a jot wiser to
run the contrary risk. That our papers are very untrue, is
certain ; but nothing on earth is less true than that they have
exaggerated the barbarities in France they have not specified
an hundredth part of them ! They have not mentioned a third
part of the chateaux that have been burnt. Have they said a
syllable of the murder of poor Monsr, Dolan, or of five nuns
massacred there, or of a young man just going to be married to
a pretty young woman with whom he was in love, and whom
they hanged before her window? Will Miss Crawford deny
these facts, or Miss Lockart deny the disturbances in Tuscany,
of which I do know the Government received an account ? I
have heard that they are pacified so were the disturbances in
Hungary said to be but they have broken out again.
You need not have the most trifling apprehension of what I
said I could not write. It is merely a project for suspending
y r journey till you see a little farther, and that you shall know
when I see you.
It is said that an account has come in 48 hours that every-
thing of St. Bartelemi's Jubilee passed tranquilly the first day,
and I did suppose that the fears of the Etats would make them
take all manner of precautions; but my notion all along has
been that the great danger of confusion will be when the
deputies, double-poisoned by the levellers, shall return into
their several provinces. The Duke of Orleans, after much
fluctuation, did go to Paris, and made a speech to the Etats,
as you will see in our papers ; but it is said to have been ill
received. This is all I know des parties cPoutremer. We seem
to be very preparatory for war with Spain, but still I have no
faith in its taking place. Lord Camelford has at last heard
of his son's safety and there ends all my knowledge.
My gout did not last so long as a common cold. I was at
Hampton on Friday, and at Eichmond last night, making visits,
but found nobody at home ; it was the first tolerable evening,
and every body had flown out. To-day it has been warmer, but
as moist as if a sirocco.
Thus, you see, Lymington is not more eventless. The two
male Edgcumbes and Mr. Williams were with me this morning,
and the two Lysons's dined with me, and Gren. Conway break-
fasted with me on Thursday morning on his way from town, so
1790] THE 4 QUIET PEACEABLE FRENCH.' 203
if there were a wherewithal of news, I might have learnt some.
To-morrow I go to London ; on Tuesday, to Mr. Barrett's in
Kent ; and on Friday, I shall be here again.
My week of confined evenings has been employed in writing
notes to Mr. Pennant's London. Ever since the appearance of
Les Rues de Paris I had been collecting notices for such a work,
tho' probably now should not have executed it. When Mr.
Pennant had something of such an idea the winter before last,
I told him such hints as I recollected ; but as he is more im-
petuous than digestive, I had not looked out my memorandums,
and he has made such a bungling use of those I gave him (for
instance, in calling the Dss. of Tirconnel the white milliner
instead of the white widow\ that I am glad I furnished him
with no more.
What can I say more? Nothing to-night, but that both
Philip and I have looked and inquired, and can find nothing
here that even calls itself a ready-furnished house. I am per-
suaded, tho' Miss Cambridge did not tell you so, that she had
inquired, and knows there is not one.
This being such a chip in paper, I will carry it with me to
town to-morrow, and even keep it back till after Monday
evening, when I may possibly be able to satisfy y r curiosity
about the quiet peaceable French, and their modest jubilee, in
honour of their destroying tyranny and restoring liberty to
everybody of hanging whom they please without trial.
Monday, 19th.
I came to town yesterday, and at the door my maid told me
that two persons had called to inquire, who had heard that I
was dangerously ill, and even reported dead. To be sure at
my age that would be no miracle ; but as upon my honour, I
have seen myself every day, and know nothing of any illness I
have had but a fillip of gout, I cannot believe there is any truth
in those reports.
I supped at my sister's last night, with several Churchills,
Miss Carter, and Mr. Fawkener, Clerk of the Council, and even
he had only heard that the Wednesday you wot of passed at
Paris without disturbance. If I hear more of it this evening,
you shall know. I did hear a deal about Lord Barrymore and
theatres he is building ; and of Ld. Salisbury's licence to
204 LETTERS. [1790
O'Reilly for operas at the Pantheon, but caring nothing about
those matters, I did not listen.
To-night. I have seen Madame de Villegagnon-Walpole* and
Madame de la Villebaque this evening, and all they have heard
yet is, that the Wednesday passed quietly, except that one
cannon burst and killed five or six persons but lives go for
nothing upon good occasions. The King tramped on foot on the
left hand of his superior the President of the Assembly ; the
Queen was so lucky as to be worse treated, and was not forced
to be present ! There, I think Miss Crawford cannot send you a
more peaceable or a more inviting account. Oh yes ! had you
been at Lyons lately, you might have been obliged to receive
most condescending civilities from two of the greatest personages
in France. Lady Rivers has written to my sister that she was
at Lyons when two Amazons arrived there, deputed by their
legislative body, Mesdames les Poissardes, to invite the late
Comtesse d'Artois to return to Paris ; and these two embassa-
dresses lodged in the same hotel. Lady R. was told she ought
to wait on them not she indeed. Oh ! yes, you had much
better and so she found she had. They received her very
graciously, and said, 'Nous nous reverrons.'' How could I ima-
gine that it is not charming travelling thro' France ! I go into
Kent to-morrow; how you will envy me if I meet a detach-
ment of Poissardes on the road to Chevening to create Earl
Stanhope no peer ! Grood night.
Strawberry Hill, Friday night, July 23, 1790.
I arrived at Lee on the day and hour I had promised to Mr.
Barrett ; returned to town on the day and hour I had promised
myself, and was back here as punctually in my promise to Straw-
berry. Nothing in this was extraordinary, as I have always had
the felicity of knowing my own mind ; but the marvel was, that
I, who have not been farther than Park-place these four years,
and am moreover four years older and have had half a dozen more
fits of gout, was not at all fatigued by an hundred and twenty
miles in three days, was new dressed by seven yesterday evening,
went to Madame Walpole's, and then supped at Lady M.
Churchill's.t In short, I am so proud of all these feats of acti-
* Madame de Villegagnon-Walpole, a Frencli lady, married to Mr.
Thomas Walpole, younger son of the first Lord Walpole, of Woolterton.
t A daughter of Sir Robert Walpole by Miss Sherret, the lady he after-
1790] THE FEEXCH JUBILEE. 205
vity, that if you two should elope, I will say like portly Hal the
moment he had beheaded Anne Boleyn,
Cock's bones ! now again I stand
The j oiliest batchelor i' th' land,
and I will marry two more wives the next day so at y r peril
be it!
I found Mr. Barrett's house complete, and the most perfect
thing ever formed ! Such taste, every inch so well finished, and
the drawing-room and eating- room so magnificent ! I think if
Strawberry were not its parent, it would be jealous. My jour-
ney, too, delighted me : such a face of plenty and beauty; the
corn, the hay harvest, the cherry orchards, the hop grounds,
all in their different ages so promising or so fullfilling ! All the
farms and hedges so tight and neat, and such rows of houses
tacking themselves on to every town, that every five miles were
an answer to Dr. Price* and Lord Stanhope ; and on t'other side
what an answer is coming from France ! But I must keep to a
little regularity.
The day of the Jubilee was a deluge, and, like Noah's flood
and the Etats, almost swept away everything ; it rained fourteen
hours, and not a dry thread but on the Queen (who ^vas there),
and had an awning for her and a few ladies, behind the King. The
rest you know but now list ! When Philippe d'Orleans waited
on the still King, M. Grouvion (second under La Fayette) jostled
him, and said, 6 If you do not resent this, you are a scoundrel '
ce n'est past tout five and twenty of the Garde Nationale
have bound themselves to fight the aforesaid Philippe, provided
that like a bowl he can tip down Grouvion and the first four and
twenty. I left London on tiptoe for the event, and Mr. Lenox,
I suppose, is not one of the least impatient.
The 27th is to be the octave to the 14th, and is expected to
produce fearful events. On that day La Fayette's commission is
to be renewed, or a successor appointed. But all this is nothing
to an event that has happened, and the detail of which / saw
wards married. When Sir Robert was created Earl of Orford, this daughter
had the king's letter to rank as an earl's daughter. She married Charles
Churchill, Esq., himself a natural son of the General Churchill of Marl-
borough's wars, by Mrs. Oldfield, the celebrated actress.
* Richard Price, an eminent dissenting minister and political writer,
born 1723, died 1791.
206 LETTERS. [1790
last night in a letter to Mad. Walpole from her sister at Paris,
and which Mr. Fawkener had heard, tho' not quite so circum-
stantially.
On the 13th arrived at Paris fifteen hundred Bretons on foot,
the commander alone mounted. They marched to the Pont-
tournant of the Tuileries. The Garde Nationale would have
stopped them, and have obliged the commander to dismount
point du tout. They advanced into the garden under the win-
dows of the King, who appeared in the balcony, and gracieused
them. They demanded admission to him, and were admitted,
when the commandant, bending one knee, laid his sword at the
King's feet, and said, 'Sire, je suis charge par la nation Bretonne
de venir jurer amour et fidelite a votre Majeste, et je verserai la
derniere goutte de mon sang pour vous, pour la Reine et pourMon-
seigneur le Dauphin.' The King embraced him. The whole troop
then went to a little garden parted off for the Dauphin on the
terrace of the Tuileries, where he was gathering flowers. The
pretty boy gave a flower as long as they lasted to every Breton, and
then gathered lilac leaves, and for fear they should not last, tore
them in two, and gave half a leaf a piece to the rest. And what,
you will cry, were their majesties the Etats doing all this time.
Oh ! I suppose they had more important business on their hands,
and were consulting metaphysically where they should deposit
that old rag the Oriflamme, for they are exceedingly attentive
to making laws for types and symbols, and probably are as much
afraid of the Bretons as they are of Myladies the Poissardes ; but
I do not add a tittle to my text, and thus leave these chapters
in the middle. Our papers say the Margrave of Anspach is dead
suddenly so Lady Craven is widow, tho' still wife.
I went to carry my niece, Sophia Walpole, home last night
from her mother's, and found Little Burlington-street blocked up
by coaches. Lord Barrymore, his sister Lady Caroline, and Mrs.
Goodall the actress, were performing the Beaux Stratagem in
Squib's auction-room, which his lordship has converted into a
theatre. I do not know the rest of the company, nor are you
probably curious. Having now emptied my pouch of news, I
will come to y r letter of the 20th, which I have received.
I thank you for saying at least that you will take time to con-
sider before you finally determine on y r journey, I do not pro-
mise myself much from that consideration, for if you can still
1790] PROPOSED CONTINENTAL TOUR. 207
hesitate, it must be by the coup de baguette of some guardian
angel that the face of Europe can be tranquillized in two months.
The position of France, indeed, rnay be much worse ; but the
talisman which I conclude you possess, and that is to convey you
invulnerable or invisible thro' that nation of barbarians, must
have as much virtue as it had a fortnight ago, and as I have no
amulet that can lull asleep my fears for you, I am not at all
comforted nor quieted by the composing draught you have sent
me. Those alarms have set me on considering too, and unless
you have reasons that are unknown to me, those you did give
me appear by no means adequate to so strange a fancy as that
of leaving your country again, when it is, and appears to every-
body else, the only country in Europe at present that one would
wish to be in. I fear my dread of letting my self-love prepon-
derate over my attachment to dear you and dear Agnes made
me too rashly forbear to contend against your scheme. I heartily
repent of my acquiescence, which was as full of self-love as
opposition would have been. In the cooler moments I have
had since, it appears to me a wild uncomfortable plan, that will
not produce one of the purposes you seem to propose by it, and
I therefore ascribe it to a volatile roving humour, or to some
motive of which I am ignorant, and into which I have no right
to inquire.
Any amendment in y r sister that you announce is always the
most grateful part of your letters, agreeable as they are to me.
Dull they cannot be when one is so interested as I am. It is for
y r sake, not my own, that I wish you better amused. Of whom,
were all the world at Lymington, could you talk, that would
engage my attention so much, as what you tell me about your-
selves? Grood night. Don't forget to tell me when I am to
change my direction.
Strawberry Hill, Thursday, July 29, 1790.
If you give yourself an air and pretend to write dull letters,
which I defy you to do when they are to pass thro' the medium
of my eyes, I will lay you a wager that this shall beat you
hollow, and even please Mr. Cumberland, who told me it was
pity Mr. Gray's letters had been printed ; and consequently, I
suppose, poor gentleman ! he thinks private letters ought to be
as insipid as his own comedies. One comfort is, that if I have
nothing to say, I trust it will be the last that you will receive
208 LETTEKS. [1790
till I see you, and therefore if it is as dull as the last scene in
any comedy, no matter.
Yours of the 26th, that I have just received, tells me you will
be in town by Thursday at farthest so will I, certainly, and
call on you in the evening. I have most seriously been house-
hunting for you. I saw bills on two doors in Montpellier-
row, but neither are furnished. Yesterday to a larger at Ted-
dington, but it was not only stark naked, but tumbling down.
You shall come to me, and then we will see what can be done.
I do hope you will be staggered about a longer journey for
some time. But two days ago I saw a new paragraph of Tuscan
disturbances. Every paper talks of horrid ones at Lyons ; but
I will say no more now, as you promise to be guided by farther
accounts.
I have learnt nothing fresher from Paris, only that all the
letters talk of repeated insults to the Duke of Orleans, and it is
thought he will return hither. Nor of the Bretons, non plus.
The Duchesse de Biron and the Boufflers's are to dine here
on Saturday, and the Edgcumbes. The Duchess returns to Paris
next week, but as she must leave her duchy behind, why should
not Lord Abercorn desire the King to seize it as a wreck, and
give it to Lady Cecil Hamilton ?
The Argyles are returned, the Duchess, I hear, looking very
ill. They have got a foolish notion at Eichmond that Lord
Blandford is to marry Miss (running ; an idea so improbable
that even the luck of the Gunnings cannot make one believe it.
You are in the right to look better, and I would advise Agnes
to do so too as fast as possible, for, to tell you the truth, I feel
myself growing inconstant. I have seen Mrs. TJdney. Oh ! she is
charming, looks so sensible and, unluckily, so modest; but then,
as Mr. Udney looks as old and decrepit as I do, there may be
some hopes.
At night.
Mr. Lysons the divine and I have been this evening to see
the late Duke of Montagu's at Eichmond, where I had not been
for many years. Formerly I was much there, but her grace
broke with me on what I had said in my ' Noble Authors ' of her
grandfather Marlborough, as if I had been the first to propagate
his avarice ! I softened it in the second edition to please her,
but not being the most placable of her soft sex, she never for-
1790] WALPOLE'S FEARS FOE THE MISS BERRYS' SAFETY. 209
gave it. The new garden that clambers up the hill is delightful,
and disposed with admirable taste and variety. It is perfectly
screened from human eyes, tho' in the bosom of so populous
a village ; and you climb till at last, treading the houses under
foot, you recover the Thames and all the world at a little dis-
tance. I am amazed that it is not more talked of, and I am
glad Mrs. Udney did not see me in my ascent or descent. I
was no very graceful figure as Mr. Lysons was dragging me up
and down. I will take care to make love on plain ground ; and
things do go on well, for at my return I found a note from Mrs.
Udney to invite me to a concert on Sunday, so I must have
made some impression, for I never saw her till yesterday
morning.
While I write, Mr. Lysons has been turning over Le Neve's*
6 Monumenta Angiicana,' and has found that nine aldermen of
London died in one year. I concluded it must have been in one
of the years of the Plague. No, it was in 1711. Then it cer-
tainly was in 1711 that turtles were first imported.
Adieu ! How glad I am to have no more of these empty
letters to write ! Don't you think it tiresome to write letters at
all ? Pray let us have no more occasion to write any.
P.S. Mr. Lysons was last Monday at Mrs. Piozzi's fete at
Streatham. Five and forty persons sat down to dinner. In
the evening was a concert, and a little hopping, and a supper.
Strawberry Hill, Monday night, Aug. 2, 1790.
By yours of Friday, which I received yesterday, I find you
got one from me on Wednesday, and I hope one on Friday too.
I shall certainly see you in Somerset- street on Thursday
evening. I have changed my language, not my wishes ; and
scarce a morsel of my opinion about your going abroad, tho', as
I have told you, I did at first acquiesce, because I knew how
much my own happiness was at stake, and I would not suffer that
to preponderate with me. But oh I my beloved friend, can I be
so interested about you and not be alarmed ? Every day I hear
new causes of terror. Lyons is all tumult and violence. The
Duke of Argyle, who is just arrived, had his chaise pelted, and
the coronet over his arms rubbed out. Miss Cheap, whom I
* Inscriptions on the Monuments of Eminent Persons deceased from 1700
to 1715, by John le Neve.
VOL. I. P
210 LETTERS. [1790
met last night at a concert at Mrs. Udney's, is frightened for you,
like me, and very sorry for your project. She told me she has
just received a letter from an English family abroad, whom pro-
bably you know, who are longing to come home, but dare not
venture. Are these vain terrors in me ? And tho' I did not
remonstrate at first, can I love you and be silent now ?
Tho' I cannot yet believe it will be, there is certainly much
more probability than I thought of another Gunning becoming
a duchess. Gen. Conway wrote to me that it is all settled, and that
she is to have the same jointure as the Duchess of Marlborough ;
but Lady Clackmannan, who has questioned (you may be sure)
both the Duke and Lord Lome, says the former answered coolly,
' They tell me it is to be,' but the other told her he knew no-
thing of the matter, and that he had even not seen Lord Bland-
ford. The Dss. of Gloucester says that Mrs. Howe, who is apt to
be well informed, does not believe it. My incredulity is still
better founded, and hangs on the Duchess of Marlborough's
wavering weathercockhood, which always rests at forbidding
the banns.
My dinner for the Biron and Boufflers went off agreeably.
Yesterday I had Mr. Thomas Walpole, his French wife, who is
most amiable, and his sister and daughters, and that too passed
well. The Bretons, who are party per pale, loyal and levellers,
have promised the Seigneur de Chilly to burn his chateau at
their return, if they find a souppon of any seigneurial marks
remaining. They joined in the Jubilee with alacrity, and yet
since have quelled a mob who were proceeding to great lengths
against Le Capet for not taking the oath on the altar. The
Queen they call nothing but la Dame Capet, as in the Fronde
Anne of Austria was Dame Anne.
It has rained all day. I had ordered my coach to go to Eich-
mond in the evening, but had it set up again, and preferred
having the fires lighted, and writing to you comfortably.
Miss Cheap is certainly your true friend, for she told me that
Mrs. Udney, whom I took for two and twenty, is eight and
thirty. There I found the Abbe singing glees with the Abra-
hams. He came to Mr. Barrett's a day later than he had pro-
mised. I insisted that he had been warbling at the Worcester
and Gloucester music meeting.
My nephew, George Cholmondeley, is to be married on
1790] LETTERS FROM MISS BERRY TO WALPOLE. 211
Saturday.* (rood night! I am glad I shall say so in person
on Thursday.
Mr. Berry and his daughters had promised Mr. Walpole
to pass some time in August at Twickenham ; and to his
exertions in obtaining a house for them the following note
from Miss Berry appears to refer, though no date of
month is affixed : -
Sunday evening.
A thousand thanks, my good Sir, for your earnestness last
night, and your kind attention this morning about a house for
us. My father goes to Twickenham to-morrow or next day,
and carries with him our best wishes to find a place in that
neighbourhood ; he will enquire after the house you mention,
the situation of which I do not immediately recollect, but be
assured a short distance from Strawberry Hill will be one of the
first recommendations to us. To our many obligations to you
we must add that of the very agreeable evening we spent last
night. I fear we shall not meet often this week, except you
are to be at Lady J. Penn's on Wednesday ; perhaps not at all,
for we go on Thursday to the Duke of Argyll's, and shall
probably stay till Saturday. Allow us, therefore, to lay a plan
already for next week, and to beg the favour of seeing you to-
morrow se'nnight, which will be the 21st. Without a little
arrangement and consideration beforehand, I find one's time
passes away in London ' nee recte, nee suaviter,' while we ensure
both when we are lucky enough to spend the evening with you.
M. BERRY.
P.S. Do tell me where Mrs. Darner lives ; though we are
not to have the pleasure of being admitted till next week, we
wish no longer to delay leaving our name at her door.
The note subjoined is also without date of month :
Saturday afternoon.
Was I to begin thanking you, when should I have done ?
and what is three tickets, or three dozen tickets for any show
upon earth in comparison of my other obligations to you, in
comparison of that flattering regard, that lively interest, that real
* To Miss Fitt.
p 2
212 LETTERS. [1790
friendship, with which upon every occasion you act towards us ?
Believe me, and it is all I feel able to say, it is not lost upon
us ; we feel it all, and the impossibility of ever thanking you
for such obligations. For tickets to the trial,* to anybody else I
could write a fine note, to you it is impossible. M. B.
On the 10th of October Mr. Berry and his daughters
left England, and the letter of that day is too touchingly
descriptive of the writer's feelings not to be here inserted,
though it is amongst the few that are already printed
without omissions.
[Sunday, Oct. 10, 1790 ; the day of y r departure.
Is it possible to write to my beloved friends and refrain from
speaking of my grief for losing you, though it is but the con-
tinuation of what I have felt ever since I was stunned by your
intention of going abroad this autumn. Still I will not tire
you with it often. In happy days I smiled and called you
my dear wives now, I can only think on you as darling
children, of whom I am bereaved ! As such I have loved and do
love you ; and charming as you both are, I have had no occasion
to remind myself that I am past 73. Your hearts, your under-
standings, your virtues, and the cruel injustice of your fate, have
interested me in everything that concerns you ; and so far from
having occasion to blush for any unbecoming weakness, I am
proud of my affection for you, and very proud of your con-
descending to pass so many hours with a very old man, when
everybody admires you, and the most insensible allow that your
good sense and information (I speak of both) have formed you to
converse with the most intelligent of our sex as well as your own ;
and neither can tax you with airs of pretension or affectation.
Your. simplicity and natural ease set off all your other merits
all these graces are lost to me, alas ! when I have no time to lose !
Sensible as I am to my loss, it will occupy but part of my
thoughts till I know you safely landed, and arrived safely at
Turin. Not till you are there, and I learn so, will my anxiety
subside and settle into steady selfish sorrow. I looked at every
weathercock as I came along the road to-day, and was happy to
see every one point north-east may they do so to-morrow !
* Trial, probably, of Warren Hastings.
1790] WALPOLE'S REGRET AT THE BERRYS' DEPARTURE. 213
I found here the frame for Wolsey,* and to-morrow morning
Kirgate will place him in it, and then I shall begin pulling the
little parlour to pieces that it may be hung anew to receive
him. I have also obeyed Miss Agnes, tho' with regret, for on
trying it I found her Arcadia would fit the place of the picture
she condemned, which shall, therefore, be hung in its room,
tho' the latter should give way to nothing else, nor shall be
laid aside, but shall hang where I shall see it almost as often.
I long to hear that its dear paintress is well ; I thought her not
at all so last night. You will tell me the truth, though she in
her own case, and in that alone, allows herself mental reser-
vation.
Forgive me for writing nothing to-night but about you two
and myself. Of what can I have thought else ? I have not
spoken to a single person but my own servants since we parted
last night. I found a message here from Miss Howe f to invite
me for this evening. Do you think I have not preferred staying
at home to write to you, as this must go to London to-morrow
morning by the coach to be ready for Tuesday's post? My
future letters shall talk of other things, whenever I know any-
thing worth repeating or perhaps any trifle, for I am determined
to forbid myself lamentations that would weary you ; and the
frequency of my letters will prove there is no forgetfulness. If
I live to see you again, you will then judge whether I am changed
but a friendship so rational and so pure as mine is, and so
equal for both, is not likely to have any of the fickleness of
youth, when it has none of its other ingredients. It was a sweet
consolation to the short time that I may have left, to fall into such
a society no wonder then that I am unhappy at that consolation
being abridged. I pique myself on no philosophy but what a
long use and knowledge of the world had given me, the philo-
sophy of indifference to most persons and events. I do pique
myself on not being ridiculous at this very late period of my
life ; but when there is not a grain of passion in my affection for
you two, and when you both have the good sense not to be dis-
pleased at my telling you so (though I hope you would have
despised me for the contrary), I am not ashamed to say that
* Drawing by Miss Agnes Berry.
f An unmarried sister of the first Earl Howe, then living at Rich-
mond.
214 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1790
your loss is heavy to me ; and that I am only reconciled to it
by hoping that a winter in Italy, and the journies and sea air
will be very beneficial to two constitutions so delicate as yours.
Adieu ! my dearest friends. It would be tautology to subscribe
a name to a letter, every line of which would suit no other man
in the world but the writer.]
JOUKNAL.
London: 1790.
Sunday ', October 1(M. Left North Audley Street at
half-past 11 A.M. ; arrived at the Old Ship at Brighthelm-
stone at half- past eight.*
Monday, \\th. Sailed at 6 P.M. onboard the Speedwell
sloop of forty tons. Captain Lyn, which we hired, paying
eight guineas and a half; the captain put our carriage and
baggage aboard. The wind fair, and we got over to the
coast of France in little more than twelve hours, but were
twenty-four before we made Dieppe.
Tuesday, 12th. Arrived at the Hotel du Grand Cerf
a Dieppe, having been exactly twenty-four hours on board
our vessel. I went to bed the instant we got aboard, and
never moved hand or foot till I got into the boat to be
landed at Dieppe. The inn much better than I expected.
We got tea and supper, and to bed as 'fast as we could.
I had heard Dieppe spoken of as much the dirtiest town
in France : it certainly by no means deserves that descrip-
tion; the streets are straight and tolerably wide, the houses
for the most part ill-built, and immediately after leaving
English neatness, give one the idea of being half in ruins.
There is a fine sea view from an old castle f guarded by
some invalids, to which my father and I walked.
* A journey of nine hours, now performed in one hour and a half.
t This castle afforded a refuge to Henri IV. when retreating before the
army of the League. In 1650 the Duchess de Longueville took refuge here
when pursued by the vengeance of Mazarin and Anne of Austria. The
castle has been repaired, and is used as a barrack. Murray'* Handbook.
1790] ARRIVAL AT PARIS. 215'
Wednesday, 1 3$. Arrived at 1'Hotel Vatel at Kouen.
The road excellent, and we went nearly as fast as we should
have posted in England. Eouen is a large populous town,
the streets remarkably narrow even for this country. The
Quay to the Seine, which is here as broad as the Thames
at Kew Bridge and crowded with vessels, must be above
a mile long, full of people and business, and very broad,
gay, and bustling. The cathedral a noble Gothic building,
highly ornamented on the outside, and within inferior to
nothing I have ever seen except York Minster. The
choir enclosed with a polished brass open screen, the
great west door of the church has the same impropriety
(but without any of the same beauty to apologise for it),
as our cathedral at Winchester, viz., a front of Grecian
architecture. The shops in Eouen are all open to the
street, without windows or any sort of defence from the
weather, and the women by whom they are universally
served sit there from morning to night, at all seasons
with a little chauffette under their feet. Here we found
ourselves obliged to alter our intended course; for our
bankers, Garvie & Co., could not give us 5Z. in money in-
stead of 60 which we wanted as much as we pleased in
assignats of 800 florins each, but money of any sort was
not to be had at Eouen ; so that instead of going from
St. Germains to Versailles, and avoiding Paris, we were
obliged to go there in search of money that one thing
needful, above all on a journey.
Thursday, Uth. Left Eouen; the road along the banks
of the Seine beautiful. At Gaillon is a magnificent old
chateau, in the real castle style, with turrets, &c., &c., be-
longing to the Archbishop of Eouen, the Cardinal de la
Eochefoucauld, who from 20,000/. a year, half of which
they own he gave in charity, is reduced to 1,500/. Lay at
Mantes.
Friday, 15$. Arrived at Paris; drove to the Hotel
d'Orleans, Eue des Petits Augustins; took the apartment au
216 MISS BERET'S JOURNAL. [1790
second at 12fl. per day. Found a laquais de place, known
to the house, ready for us on the staircase ; got a very
good dinner from a traiteur in less than an hour, and found
ourselves as well arranged and as much at home as if we
had been here a month. I know no other place where
one can have so many comforts in so short a time. The
approach to Paris from St. Germain-en-Laye, and more par-
ticularly from the beautiful Pont de Neuilly, is worthy to
lead to what the people of this country delight to call the
first city in the world. The first city in the world is at
present much in deshabille ; for what with the number of
emigrants caused by the violence and prejudices of the
people, the number of others who, without being actually
in danger, choose to stand aloof, and see how matters will
go, together with another description of people, perhaps
not less numerous, who from motives of economy and
quiet have retired to their own country-houses, or to those
of their relations, or to the provincial towns the streets of
Paris, the Palais Eoyal, the Tuileries in short, all places
of public resort, exhibit a very different appearance, and
seem filled with very different people, from what I re-
member them five years ago. The streets are full of fiacres
and carts, hardly a gentleman's carriage or a voiture de
remise to be seen, at least not one for twenty, and the Pa-
lais Eoyal and Tuileries filled with people of the lowest
class, with a very small proportion of those one can sup-
pose above it.
Saturday, 16th. Monsieur de Levis,* to whom we
* Le Due Pierre Marc-Gastin de Levis, son of Marshal Levis, was chosen
Depute de la Noblesse of Dijon at the age of twenty-five. He adopted the
principles of the Revolution, but always with great moderation. After the
events of the 10th of August 1792, he quitted Paris and joined the army of
the Princes, where he served as a private soldier. He was wounded in the
Quiberon expedition, and came over to England, where he published a
funeral oration on Louis XVI. and on Marie Antoinette. He returned to
France after the 18th Brumaire, 1808, but occupied himself only with litera-
ture. In 1814 he was included in the first promotion of Peers, and again
took part in public affairs, as well as in literary pursuits : died Feb. 1830.
Biog. Nouvelle des Contemporains.
1790] PAKIS THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY. 217
had sent, called upon us in the morning. Agreed to meet
him upon the terrace of the Tuileries at half-past two
o'clock, to go, if possible, into the National Assembly.
In the meantime drove to the Porte St. Antoine. Saw
the remains of the Bastile ; it is now levelled with the
bottom of the fosse, and the stones piled up upon every
side. There are still a number of people at work digging
up the foundations. It is, they say, to be levelled to the
surface of the ground, and a Place built, to be called that
of. Louis Seize.
From the Porte St. Antoine, drove round the Boule-
vards, which, in spite of their natural gaiety, have the same
neglected look with the rest of the town. The Ambigu
Comique, the Theatre Lyrique, and all the little Spectacles
of the Boulevards, have got new fronts to their theatres
all of them architectural, ah 1 of them after the antique, and
by no means in bad taste ; indeed, I cannot help thinking
the taste for architecture at present in Paris much better
than ours in London. All their late buildings are divided
into few and large parts, and have an air of grandeur that
we have never yet been able to attain in London. Wit-
ness that enormous mass of littlenesses at Somerset House.
The colonnade of the gay and beautiful fa9ade of the Place
de Louis Quinze struck me, however, upon this second
view of it, as somewhat meagre, and liable to the very
objection I have just been making to our buildings
that of being divided into too small parts.
At half-past two found M. de Levis waiting for us in
the Terrace des Feuillans in the Tuileries. The Salle of
the National Assembly joins it, and is what was formerly
a Manege. We entered it under the auspices of our friend
M. de Levis, who is Depute de la Noblesse de Dijon.
The members have all in their turn, alphabetically, so
many tickets to give away. It was not his turn, but as
the debate was a dry one upon the equal taxation of
different sorts of biens fanciers many people had left
218 MISS BEEEY'S JOUEXAL. [1790
the gallery, and we got very good places. The room is
long, very commodiously fitted up for the purpose, with
six or seven rows of benches, one above another, all round,
and covered with green cloth, and a door, such as is in our
Westminster Hall fitted up for a court of justice. In the
middle of one side sits the President at a small table,
elevated as high as the last row of benches ; and under
him is another larger table, at which sit the clerks and
short-hand writers. Opposite the President is a sort of
pulpit, in which those who wish to make a speech place
themselves ; those who have only an amendment to move,
an objection to make, or only wish to say a few words,
speak in their place. While we were present, there were
seldom fewer than three or four speaking at once often
many more with such a noise that it was impossible
anything could be heard ; the President in vain ringing a
great bell, which stands by him on the table, by way of
enforcing silence or drowning other noises, and the criers
in vain demanding it ; and when at last some one with
strong lungs and much perseverance overcame the rest,
he never got a hearing for more than three or four sen-
tences, in the course of which something was sure to
occur which met with the approbation, or blame, of the
major part of the Assembly, and was expressed in an
equally vociferous manner by every individual according
to his own particular sentiments. Their appearance is
not more gentlemanlike than their manner of debating
such a set of shabby, ill-dressed, strange-looking people I
hardly ever saw together. Our House of Commons is not
half so bad. The aristocratical party for such a party
there is even in the National Assembly, and a party which,
after the present 'rage for reformation is over, and the
people have found that their representatives have destroyed
much without having established anything in its place
will then come forward, and perhaps have it in their
power (if really good patriots) to settle a good constitution,
1790] VISIT TO THE CHAMP DE MAES. 219
and to restore the degraded monarch to that degree of
power which, in a great country like this, it is perhaps
necessary he should have, to secure the liberties of the
people.* When the Assemblee broke up at four o'clock,
we returned to our hotel.
After dinner, went to the Champ de Mars, now called
Le Champ de la Confederation. M. de Levis, who had
much recommended our seeing it, called upon us just as
we were stepping into the carriage, and accompanied us,
which was pleasant, as he explained where everybody sat,
how they came in, &c., &c. I should indeed have been
sorry not to have seen what I think more truly in good
taste and in great style of anything I ever saw in France.
The sort of covered pavilion, under which sat the king,
the Etats, &c., &c., groups so well with the higher edifice
of the Ecole Militaire, which it joins by a covered passage ;
the enclosure is so large and so well encadre by the
trees round it, and the altar in the middle, though only
composed of canvass and boards, is in such perfect good
taste, that it puts one in mind of N. Poussin's fine ideal
landscapes of Greece. We saw it all by the finest moon-
light that ever was, which perhaps was not without its
effect upon the whole scene.
* The following extraordinary performance, that took place in the
National Assembly a few months earlier, presents even a stronger picture of
the wild absurdities into which men in a deliberative assembly could be led
by the excitement which then prevailed over reason and sense :
' L' ASSEMBLE NATIONALS.
' Le President annonce qu'une deputation va paroitre, et qu'elle est com-
posee d'Anglois, de Prusses, d'Hollandois, de Russes, de Polonois, d'Alle-
mands, de Suedois, d'ltaliens, d'Espagnols, de Brabancons, de Liegois,
d'Avignonais, de Suisses, de Genevois, d'Indiens, d'Arabes, et de Chaldees.'
They were headed by a Baron de Cloots du Val de Grace, who acted as
1 leur orateur.' They demanded to have a place allotted for them on the
day of the Confederation in the Champs de Mars, which was granted by
acclamation, and their speaker from that day received the title of ' 1'Orateur
du Genre Humain.'
N.B. His name was Baptiste Cloots, but he called himself afterwards
Anacharsis, to avoid a Scriptural name.
220 MISS BEKRY'S JOURNAL. [1790
Sunday, 17th. Left Paris, very much satisfied with
the few hours we spent there, and glad to have seen Paris
in the very particular situation to which the present state
of France has reduced it. At Ponthierry, on the opposite
bank of the river Yonne, stands the fine gay-looking
chateau of the Duke of Orleans at St. Assis. There are
fine woods about it, and the country and banks of the
river very beautiful. At Chailly, a post and a half from
Fontainebleau, we observed that the bed of the carriage
was broken. After some delay, continued our route, and
arrived at Fontainebleau ; the roads perfectly good, and
they drive faster than in England. The Foret de Fontaine-
bleau is one of the most romantic and beautiful parks
imaginable, and singular from the large abrupt masses of
rocks scattered everywhere in the midst of a flat country.
It always puts me in mind of Plumpton, in Yorkshire ;
but the rocks here are more considerable, and all covered
with common and weeping birches, which add much to
their beauty. The Hotel du Grand Cerf inconceivably
bad in a town where, from being the occasional residence
of the court, a number of strangers of distinction must
sometimes lodge. Walked in the gardens of the chateau :
these were full of all sorts of people, in their holiday
clothes, which the moment a French man or woman put
on, they are anxious to show themselves. In the park,
just without the garden, there was a large sort of tem-
porary building, where not less than three or four hundred
of the common people were dancing away most merrily,
both French and English country dances ; and though
without much grace, better than any other common people
in the world dance. We did not go into the apartments
of the chateau, which we had formerly visited ; it is
an enormous building, and is computed to have 8,600
chimneys.
Monday, 18*. The Charon at Fontainebleau, as
usual, not getting his work done as soon as he promised,
1790] NEVERS. 221
we could not leave Fontainebleau till twelve o'clock ; the
first two posts to Nemours, through the forest, and beau-
tiful. Slept at Nogent, a poor little village.
Tuesday ', ~L$th. At Briare, we came upon the banks of
the Loire, which runs through a large and highly culti-
vated valley. At Cosne and Pouilly, two wretched little
towns or bourgs, they plague you to buy knives and
gloves they manufacture their importunity is excessive at
the door of the carriage. The people in the neighbour-
hood of La Charite were in the middle of their vendange,
and the postilions we got from thence to Pougues were
drunk (an uncommon case in France), and nearly over-
turned and broke our carriage to pieces in galloping out
of the town. Lay at Pougues ; tolerable inn, civil people.
Wednesday, 2(M. The road from Pougues to Nevers
through a rich enclosed country, very like the best part
of England. Nevers is a considerable town. We were
obliged to stop for nearly an hour, to get the sabot of our
carriage mended. The streets through which we passed
were all up hill and down, and, after a long course of fine
dry weather, were as wet as if the middle of winter. There
is a great manufacture of the very coarsest sort of fai-
ence and earthenware at Nevers, which is sent down the
river. The women make and bring to the inn beadwork,
baskets, and little toys, which they call de Pouvrage a
petits grains. The town in general has the appearance
of much poverty. One passes a long stone bridge over
the Loire, but the country hereabouts all corn-fields and
pasturage, enclosed with hedges ; no vines from the south
of Pougues till near Eoanne. Moulins is a wretched-look-
ing town. The tomb of the Duke of Montmorency, be-
headed in the time of Louis Treize,* and which his wife,
Marie Orsini, erected to his memory twenty years after
his death, in the church of the Yisitandines, to which
she retired, is grand. The sarcophagus of black marble
* Executed at Toulouse in 1632.
222 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [171
upon which the figure of the Duke reposes is noble from
its size and colour; but that of his wife, who is in a weep-
ing attitude behind him, does not group with it : still less
do the figures of Strength and Liberality, which are sitting
in niches far below the sarcophagus, and do not seem to
have anything to do with the principal figure, but the
sculpture of the Hercules, representing Strength, is very
good. Seeing this tomb, and some delay about horses,
detained us at Moulins for above an hour, and we did not
arrive at La Yarenne till near nine o'clock.
Thursday, 21st. The country about La Palisse and Droi-
turier finely waved and covered with low woods. At La
Palisse, a romantic old chateau belonging to and inhabited
by an old Marquis de la Palisse. The Loire is first navi-
gable at Koanne, and covered with large roughly con-
structed boats, which are all sold and broken up down
the river.
Friday r , 22nd. From St. Symphorien to La Fontaine,
from La Fontaine to Tarare, cross the mountain of Tarare,
one of the longest hills I ever saw ; bullocks, as well as
horses, are obliged to be put to the carriage. The country
hereabouts, and indeed from Eoanne, like the lowest re-
gion of the Alps ; flat-topped houses and villages perched
upon hills, more like the paysage of Italy than any other
part of France that I have seen. The environs to Lyons,
by whichever way it is approached, are beautiful. Ar-
rived at the Hotel de Provence, and were much disap-
pointed at finding our old acquaintance, Mine. Giraud,
had left that house and kept another hotel of the same
name ; we agreed for a salle and three bedrooms, at
twelve livres a day.
Saturday, 23rd. Sent for M. Fels, the civil little banker
from whom we had formerly got money, and went to
several shops, and in the evening to the play, where
Mdlle. St. Val happens to be acting for a few nights. She
pleased me much, though in an uninteresting character
1790] BOUEGOIN. 223
in Crebillon's ' Khadamiste et Zenobie.' She has a charm-
ing tone of voice, speaks well, without either ranting or
affectation ; her figure and face not remarkable ni en
bien, ni en m,al.
Sunday, 24:th. It rained all day. Spoke to two or three
different voituriers, all so unreasonable in their demands,
asking us nearly the double of what we had formerly paid.
Monday, 2bth. The voituriers refusing to go for less
than thirty-six louis, setting us down at Turin, we deter-
mined to take the post to Chamberri. Slept at Bourgoin,
a poor little town,
Tuesday, 26th. The postilion, in leaving Bourgoin,
stopped us at a corps de garde nationale, where our passe-
port was demanded, which was one from the French Am-
bassador in London, which had been signed by the
Mayor at Lyons. Our carriage was immediately sur-
rounded by a number of people without uniforms or any-
thing else to distinguish them, who, whilst they were
examining our passeport and asking eagerly if we were
French people, told us they must search our trunks ' pas
pour la contrebande, mais pour des papiers.' This wise
demand, an officer of the regular troops told us, there was
no avoiding ; when he went into the guard-room with us
he told us he saw all the folly, and wished he could pre-
vent what they were doing, but did not dare, for fear they
should fall upon him, or complain he did not do his duty.
Two or three of them immediately mounted upon the back
of the carriage and began rummaging over everything in
the large trunk behind, where, certainly, if we had been
conspirators, it would have been mighty likely we should
put our papers ! One of them a saucy lad who called
himself a corporal, and was foremost in turning everything
dessus dessous when I asked him if he was content, re-
plied in the most impertinent mariner, ' Non, je ne suis pas
content, et ne parlez pas tant vous, cela ne vous fera aucun
bien.' Another of them, observing something sticking
224 MISS BEKRY'S JOUE^ T AL. [1790
out of our courier's pocket, came behind him and too]
them out; they happened to be bills of the hotel at Lyons,
which, I hope, relieved the fears of the patriot. Upon the
officers coming out again, and telling them that our passe-
port was a perfectly good one, that they saw, or rather
heard, we were English, and that haying searched our
trunk they need not look farther, we were allowed to pro-
ceed; the officer having put upon our passeport 'vu et
fouillej which he said would prevent our being searched
again at the Pont de Beauvoisin. I really began to dread
being searched at every village. No such thing, however,
happened ; and at the Pont, our passeport was only shown
to the commandant, and no further trouble given us about
papers ; our trunks and imperial were just opened at the
douane. At the Pont of Beauvoisin, one passes the Guiers,
which separates France from Savoy. From thence one soon
gets into Alpine scenery, mounting up the side of the hill
with the stream running in some places at an immense
depth below. Between Les Echelles and St. Jean des Coups
one passes by Le Chemin de la Grotte,a curious passage cut
through the solid rock by Emanuel, Duke of Savoy,* in I
forget what year. There is an inscription at the entrance,
saying when and by whom done, and mentioning it as a
workf Romanis intentatum ceteris desperatum. It is ex-
cessively steep and narrow, paved with stones, and winds
through the steep bare rock which rises like a wall on each
side, and seems to shut up both ends ; our six wretched
post-horses absolutely refused drawing the carriage, and we
were indebted to the assistance of a number of peasants
pushing behind, who I fancy attend all carriages they see
going up the mountain. Arrived at Chamberri.
Wednesday, 27th. After much talking and trouble, we
settled with a voiturier to carry us to Turin, with four
horses for our carriage and a bidet for one of the servants,
* Duke Charles Emanuel of Savoy, in 1670.
t Written by the Abbe St. Real, born at Chamberri, 1639.
1790] CHAMBERY. 225
for twenty-six louis d'or, as much as we paid five years
ago from Turin to Geneva, a two days' longer journey ; but,
before our agreement was drawn up, the man said that we
could only make half a day's journey, which would bring
us to bad inns every night. Having once before expe-
rienced the inconveniences of this, we did not set out till
the next morning. I walked ah 1 over the town of Cham-
bery with my father, over the shoes in mud. Saw the
Palace,* a large castle sort of building, round an irregular
court. The king's apartment is demeuble every winter,
and in this condition we saw it. In the evening, walked
through the mud to the theatre ; it would have held
Drury Lane within it. There was a large box in the
middle for the court, but so empty a theatre I think I
never saw : there might be about thirty people in the pit,
not near a dozen in the boxes, including ourselves, and
yet we had 'Les Deux Nieces' and ' L'Amant Bourru,' very
tolerably acted ; and a very tolerable orchestra, com-
posed, I fancy, of the band of the regiment. In the next
box to us sat a French cordon-bleu, and another gentle-
man, with whom I had some conversation. I found he
was an officer in the French Garde du Corps, and had
escaped from Paris after the memorable days of October
last. He said he had been at Chambery ever since, and
that it was wonderful the number of French scattered all
over Savoy and Piedmont.
Thursday, 2Sth. Left Chambery. The day was very
fine, and we walked, I dare say, four or five miles. It is
impossible to describe the sublime beauties of every inch
of the road, which made a hardly less strong impression
upon me at this third view than they did the first time.
Friday, 29th. Left Aiguebelle at 6 A.M.; arrived at La
Chambre about ten. Finding we made our first stage
* Several towers and other fragments exist of the ancient castle of the
Dukes of Savoy. The Gothic chapel built within its enclosure, 1415 ; sur-
vived the conflagration of 1798. Murray's Handbook,
VOL. I, Q
226 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1790
so easily, we begged our voiturier to change the dinner
into a breakfast giving bread, butter, and milk, instead
of roasts and bouillies. It rained violently all the early
part of the morning ; turned out a fine afternoon, which
we enjoyed by taking a long walk. We were joined
by a young peasant coming from the fair at St. Jean
Maurienne. He gave us a great deal of information, in
his way, about the country : he said that the French
people, who used to come and buy great quantities of cattle
at their fair, now brought it to sell ; so that there was
more cattle to sell, and less sold, than ever had been re-
membered. We were much amused at St. Jean Maurienne
at driving through the fair, which is held on the outside
of the town ; it was entirely for cattle and for selling
ready-made clothes to the people. The road, for two
leagues on each side of the town, was enlivened by strings
of peasants bringing their cattle from the market mostly
goats and sheep which they buy at this season, to kill
and salt for the winter ; and some, but few, pigs. The
pigs cost 40 livres of this country (21. English), and the
goats about 5s. : the prices seem to me to bear no pro-
portion to each other. Arrived at St. Michel. The au-
berge bad ; but I must observe that they are all greatly
improved since we were here six years ago.
Saturday, 30^A. Eoad from St. Michel often upon
the edge of precipices, which, in any other place, might
make one tremble ; but here one is never afraid : the road
in general well made. All the little villages, without
exception, through which we passed, are so miserably
paved, and the streets so narrow and often so steep, that it
is wonderful how any carriage, however strong, holds to-
gether passing over them. I thought them worse now than
they even were formerly ; and the voiturier said that, the
princes of Piedmont not having come this way for these
two years past, they had been shamefully neglected. In
coming thromgh St. Andre, one of the worst and steepest
1790] LANSLEBOURG. 227
of these miserable places, the street was so narrow, and the
jolts so violent, that our imperial hit against the project-
ing roof of a house, and brought down one of the great
stones with which they are covered ; this stone tore off
two of the staples which fastened the imperials, broke one
of the check-braces, and took off the top of one of the
lanterns. Arrived at Lanslebourg.
Sunday, 31st. Left Lanslebourg at half^past 7 A.M.
Our carriage had been all taken to pieces the night
before, and ought to have started long before us ; but it
was Sunday, and though we paid forty shillings to have a
mass said at five o'clock for the carriers, they did riot set
out above an hour before our chairs, and we soon passed
them upon the road. We were lucky in having exceed-
ingly fine weather, and found this crossing the mountain,
as we always have done, a most agreeable day's journey.
We got to the Hospital, about the middle of the plain at
the summit, in an hour and a half, and found our old
friend the pretre, with whom we had formerly dined,
recollecting us perfectly, and very glad to see us again.
His house is much improved ; he has now a very comfort-
able, clean, whitewashed room, hung with maps, by way
of salon, and two or three very decent beds in other rooms,
and a good kitchen. I found that, since we saw him, Mr.
Trevor and several other people had at different times
stayed several days with him, and indeed I should think, in
the middle of summer, nothing could be pleasanter, or
more conducive to health. We were served by a very
clean woman, who brought us excellent cream, bread and
butter, eggs, a couple of boiled trout from the lake, which
are famous, apples and grapes (which are foreign luxuries),
and, in short, everything that is necessary to make an ex-
cellent meal in that keen mountain air. We found no
snow upon Mont Cenis, but a very considerable degree of
frost and snow upon all the mountains above the plain ;
and the north wind, to which we luckily had turned our
228 MISS BERET'S JOURNAL. [1790
backs, was piercing. We left the top of the mountain about
eleven, and got to La Novalese at one o'clock ; arrived at
Susa soon after four. Walked to the remains of the Arch of
Triumph erected to Augustus.* From the description of
it, I expected to see a mere skeleton, but was agreeably
surprised to find a very beautiful shaped arch, supported
by two Corinthian pillars, and an enriched frieze in quite
as good preservation as any of those at Rome ; it stands
in the garden of the Governor's house, and is joined to
another more modern, though hardly less curious, ruin of
a castle of the middle ages. Susa appeared to us, after the
towns of Savoy, magnificent', the streets are tolerably wide,
some of them with arcades, and (for Italy) rather clean.
Monday, 1st November. Left Susa. We have found
all the road upon this route much worse than formerly,
owing, the people say, to none of the princes having been
in Savoy for these two years past ; we went a snail's pace,
and were jumbled to pieces. When we got to Turin, we
went first to the Auberge Eoyale, which was quite full ;
then to the Armes d'Angleterre, the next best hotel. Here
they showed us two rooms only, very bad accommodation,
for which they asked ten livres a day. Thought we should
do better at La Bonne Femme, and found all full there,
and returned to the Armes d'Angleterre, but were stopped
from driving into the court : a gentleman had in the
meantime taken the rooms. We were now at a loss what
to do. I knew of no other hotels in Turin ; the people
mentioned an Hotel de Provence, a vile place which my
father went to look at, and which luckily was quite full. In
the meantime the voiturier and a civil coffee-house man
* Erected by Julius Cotius, son of King Donnus, about 8 B.C., in honour
of Augustus. This chieftain of the Alpine tribes, having submitted to the
Roman authority, records his dignity under the humbler character of Pre-
fect ; the inscription, now nearly defaced, states the names of his fifteen
mountain clans, whilst the basso-relievos represent the sacrifices (suove-
taurilia) and other ceremonies by which the treaty was ratified and con-
cluded. Murray's Handbook.
1790] LETTEES FROM ME. WALPOLE. 229
proposed our going to the Dogana Vecchia, an auberge
I had never even heard of ; thither we went, and found
room enough, but not a bit better accommodated than
we should have been in one of the smallest towns in
Italy - - common brick floors, doors and windows that
would not shut, dishes full of oil and garlick, &c. After all
this trouble in lodging ourselves, we had the much greater
annoyance of being disappointed of the letters we ex-
pected, and for which we sent in vain to the post and to
the banker's. I cannot describe, and I am sure I do not
wish anybody to experience, the regret and discomfort we
felt. We had desired everybody to direct to us at Turin,
and expected a large bundle of letters, but having foolishly
forgotten to desire our friends to put ' par Paris ' on the
address, they had all gone round by Germany, and we had
arrived before them. This the banker told us the next
morning, and comforted us as to the safety of our letters,
but still we must wait for them a cruel time.
Amongst the letters expected in 'the large bundle,'
and soon after recovered, were certainly those from Mr.
Walpole. The three following, directed to Miss Berry
at Turin, have happily been preserved :
Tuesday, Oct. 12, 1790.
Yesterday was so serene, and the wind so favorable, that I
hoped the pacquet was ready and that you sailed. To-day is
blowing, and more to the south. I wish for a brisk wind to
carry you swiftly; yet, if I could hold the bag, I should open it
so timorously, that Boreas would not be able to squeeze his
puffed cheeks thro' the vent, tho' I might hear of you sooner.
Then I shall long for a line from Kouen, and then from Lyons,
and most of all from Turin. Oh ! how you have made me long
to dip deep into the almanac, and even into that of next year,
tho' it is most prodigal in me to be willing to hurry away a day,
who may have so few in bank.
Yesterday morning I had just framed Wolsey, and hung
him over the chimney of the little parlour, when the D ss of
230 LETTERS. [1790
Gloucester came, and could scarce be persuaded it was the work
of Agnes ; but who else could have painted it ? Milbourne, who is
here drawing from some of my pictures for his prints to Shake-
speare, cried out at it as the finest piece of water-colours he ever
beheld, before he knew whose work it is. This was my employ-
ment yesterday, but not the only one ; for I had my lawyer with
me to prepare for securing Cliveden, if I should not have ano-
ther almanac; and he's to bring me a proper clause on Monday
next.
At night.
The wind has been so high since noon that I should have
been very uneasy if it were not full south-west, with which I
think you could not sail. I have been fully apprehensive about
the whole of your journey, but had not foreseen that I should
be alarmed about your voyage. Now I am impatient for a
letter from Dieppe !
I have dined to-day at Bushy with the GKrilfords, where were
only the two daughters, Mr. Storer, and Sir Harry Englefield,
who performed en professeur at the game I thought Turkish,
but which sounds Moorish ; he calls it, Bandalore. I had written
a note to Mrs. Grenville to inquire its name, but I think this
will serve, as you only wanted to be told some name, no matter
what, as one does about a new face : ' Who is that ? ' One cares
not whether the reply is Thompson or Johnson.
This will be only a journal of scraps till you are settled some-
where, and I can write regularly. Moreover, it is the only way
of filling random letters unless I were to indulge myself on the
theme that for your sakes I will avoid. I am little likely here
to learn or do anything worth repeating ; yet, if you will be
content with trifles, my wanting better subjects shall not be an
excuse for not writing. It is a common plea with the unwilling ;
and persons abroad, I know, are often told by their correspondents,
who have not the grace of friendship before their eyes, that
they did not send them news, concluding they had better infor-
mation. I may apologize for writing too often, but have too
much pleasure in conversing with you in any manner, to lose
the opportunity, provided I can hope to give you the least enter-
tainment. Eemember, however, that I ask no punctuality of
replies nay, beg you to restrain them. You are young, have
much to revisit, many pleasures, I fervently hope, to enjoy ;
1790] WALPOLE'S KIND CONSIDEEATION. 231
many friends besides to write to, and your healths to re-establish.
I certainly have nothing to do that I like half so well as writing
to you two. Do but tell me in short notes y r stations, y r motions
and intentions, and particularly how you both do, and I shall be
content : I do give you my word I shall. Writing is bad for
delicate constitutions: in the day you must sacrifice some
sight or amusement ; at night you may be writing too late, or
fatiguing y r self when you should repose. Never, I beseech you,
let the person who studies y r well-being the most be accessory
to causing you the least trouble, disquiet or disorder. This is a
positive injunction, (rood night.
Wednesday night, 13th.
I received y r kind letter from Brighth. this morning, and give
you a million of thanks for it. It gives me some hopes that you
might be landed on Tuesday morning before the wind changed
and rose ; but it revived a thousand more anxieties. I do not
like a vessel smaller than the pacquet; and the tempestuous
wind of yesterday shocks me, lest it should have overtaken you
at sea. That good soul Miss Seton walked over from Eichmond
to communicate her letter to me how I love her for it ! And she
had previously called at Cambridge's to consult him, when his
son George, who has often crossed to Dieppe, assured her the
vessel would put back to England, or put into Boulogne on
change of the wind. It may be so, but I cannot get out of my
head the storm of yesterday, every blast of which made me
quake and tremble more now lest you should have been in its
power ! Oh ! when shall I hear you are safe ? I have written
to Mrs. D., and told her y r being summoned on board suddenly
prevented y r writing to her.
As you desire my second letter might be directed to Turin, I
have settled with good Miss S. that she shall write this next Fri-
day to Lyons, and that I will defer this till Tuesday for Turin;
that you may be sure of a letter either at the one or the other,
and know why you do not hear from us both at once. I hope
in Grod you are safe, and that my fears are groundless ! All my
letters and fears are for both, which I will not repeat any more.
As I shall always I find be writing, you will order any letters to
be sent after you from Turin, till I know how to direct farther
on. When you are settled anywhere, I shall be more composed,
and will think of the more insignificant things of the world.
232 LETTEKS. [1790
Friday, 15th.
Words cannot tell what I have felt, and do now feel ! The
storm on Tuesday terrified me beyond measure, and so I have
remained till this minute, that Mrs. D. has most humanely sent
me an express to tell me you are landed. I must send him
back with this, and will instantly send to Miss Seton to tell her
the happy news, and to Cambridge. I am not composed enough
to say anything else; but I will write again on Tuesday.
Heaven preserve you all !
I have not got my letter yet, but am easy for the present.
Saturday night, Oct. 16, 1790.
The hurry and confusion in which I finished my letter this
morning which I had prepared for the post, will have told you
better than I can describe the terror I have been under from
the storm of Tuesday, and ever since, and the transport of a
line from Mrs. D. to tell me you are landed. I will not dwell but
on one circumstance, but a dreadfull one ! I saw in yesterday's
newspaper that two hoys had been lost off Plymouth on Tues-
day night. You, I believe, know how affection's imagination
travels on such an occasion ! My letter from you I have not yet
received, but expect to-morrow morning, and then will resume
the subject of y r voyage. Now my fears are returning to land.
This will not depart till Tuesday ; yet I have chosen to stay
at home and write to you, for my thoughts are not resettled
enough for anything else. I met Gr. H. on Wednesday, who
was beginning to condole with me on losing you, but the storm
was in my head and I cut him short crossly, for as you are no
longer my wives but my children, I can talk of you to nobody
but those who love you almost as much as I do.
Not having been out of my house these three days, nor scarce
seen a soul in it, I am not yet come to my worldly talk, but hope
to be able to entertain you a little soon arrive but at Turin.
I know nothing but two events, not likely to please you.
Poor Mr. Ogilvie * has been near killed at Goodwood by an
astonishing indiscretion of his own. He went, yes, and with
one of his daughters, and without even a stick, into an inclosure
where the duke keeps an elk. The animal attacked him, threw
- Ogilvie, Esq., who was married to the Duchess Dowager of
Leinster, sister to the Duke of Richmond.
1790] WALPOLE'S ANXIETY ABOUT THE BERRYS, 233
him down, gored him, bruised him in short, he is not yet out
of danger.
Boyd is made governor of Gibraltar, and somebody, I know not
whom, is appointed lieutenant-governor in the place of y r friend
O'Hara I know not how or why, but shall be sorry if he is.
mortified, and you consequently.
I believe I have one or two nephews in war going with the
guards to the West Indies, and therefore one or two nieces that
are mourning brides but I do not inquire, for I should be a
poor comforter just now. The proclamation is out for the Parl.
meeting the 25th of next month ; but the definitive Porter from
Spain, that is to open or shut Janus's gates, is not expected
back till the 27th of this. That is all I can tell Mr. Berry.
Sunday, noon.
Here is y r letter from Dieppe as I expected, and strange it
is, that as much as I abhor sea-sickness myself, I am very hard-
hearted about yours to have been only less sick than usual,
when I would have compounded for y r both rivalling the cascades
of St. Cloud, if I could have been certain that you would soon
be as dusty as those of Versailles. Oh! don't talk of it but
what harlequin of a Triton whisked y r vessel about so as to escape
the tempest, tho' you were 27 hours at sea? nay, are not you
silent about it, lest you should give me a posthumous panic?
Thank Grod you are all safe ! I will say no more of the storm,
tho' I shall not forget it, nor recover soon of that sea-sickness.
I think it probable that good Miss Seton * may take a walk
hither after church, as October is dressed out in all its diamonds ;
I have my coach ready to convey her back if she does if not,
I will call on her this evening ; we must drink the health of y r
sea-sickness.
I have seen nothing of the Hamptonians ; I could not bear
to go to them, while my mind was so agitated consequently I
know nothing of the person who was to come to town yesterday,
to be married on the 20th ; but I do know that his aunt at the
foot of yonder hill had heard nothing of it four days ago, nor
believes a word of it nor has her brother been near town these
two months.
* A cousin of Miss Berry's, then on a visit in the neighbourhood of
Strawberry Hill. M.S.
234 LETTERS. [1790
Mrs. D. dines here to-morrow, and will probably carry this to
town with her for Tuesday's post but I may add a few words.
Sunday night.
If I could continue to predict as well as I have done to-day,
I would turn prophet, and I know what I would foretell. Miss S.
did come to me, and we had an hour and half of comfort-
able conversation, and nobody interrupted us, nor would any
mortal have been welcome. You may guess the topics the storm
was not forgot. She saw Wolsey over his chimney in a comely
frame of black and gold, and to-morrow the paper-man comes
to new hang the room in sober brown suiting the occasion. As
she was going she desired me to read to her Prior's ( Turtle and
Sparrow,' and his c Apollo and Daphne,' with which you were so
delighted, and which, tho' scarce known, are two of his wittiest
and genteelest poems. There should be new way-posts on our
common roads to some of our best poets, since Dr. Johnson,
from want of taste and ear, and from mean party-malice, defaced
the old indexes as the mob do milestones.
I have heard at Kichmond this evening that at Baling the
match is talked of as indubitable ; yet yesterday morning the
old grandam in Pallmall disavowed it, and laid the invention
on L. M. C. From all this you will not much expect to hear
the ceremony is performed. L d Stopford marries the D. of
Buccleugh's eldest daughter ; the D 89 gives her 20,000., the
Duke 10,OOOZ., and they settle 15 more.
Oct. 22, 1790.
Though Mrs. D. and Mrs. B. recommended y r going thro'
Paris, I should have had a new alarm could I have known you
would be reduced to take that route but you had left it before
I had any apprehension of it, and I hope are actually at Lyons,
or beyond it. Still I shall not feel comfortably till I hear from
Turin and what an age that will be !
I was in town yesterday ; passed the evening with Mrs. D.,
where were Mrs. B. and the Charming Man ; I did not see
another creature, and returned hither to-day, but I shall go
again on Thursday to take leave of Mrs. D., who sets out on
Saturday. She writes to you to-night, for which reason I
I would not till Tuesday-and indeed I have already
said all I have to say, or at least all I will say. Three days may
furnish something. The Johnstones have been at Nuneham, and
1790] THE PENXS LADY GOODERE. 235
are actually at Park Place, or I might have heard more of
Marchioness to be or not to be, for those I saw in town knew
not a tittle more of the matter, yet the Ides of March, i. e. the
20th of October, are come and gone ! consequently Faith
minifies, instead of increasing ; and unless Lord Abercorn insists
upon the King's declaring that she was born a marchioness, I
doubt whether she ever will be one.
My dates hitherto have been, of the 12th, to Lyons; of 16th,
19th, and this, to Turin. Whither I am to direct next I shall
not know till you tell me.
Sunday, 24th, after dinner.
I should be tired of talking of the silly Miss and her match,
and of inquiring about them, if you had not charged me to send
you the progress of a history that at the eve of y r departure
revived so strangely, without having had a beginning. In its
present stage it is a war of duchesses. The bride's aunt firmly
asserts it is to be ; the bridegroom's grandmother positively
denies it and she ought to know as first inventress. In the
mean time no sposo appears, nor his parents, M house
wanting repainting in short, everybody but the ducal aunt
suspects the letter was fictitious some whence or other.
I have called twice on Miss Seton at Eichmond, and made
her very happy by your safe arrival at Paris. I went afterwards
to Lady Betty Mackinsey, where the Comtesse Emilie played
admirably on the harp. The Penns were there, and delighted
to hear of you. Lady Dillon told me she heard Lady Groodere
say that I have been mighty obliging, and offered to buy the
furniture if she and her knight would stay in my house. I am
rejoiced at having been so civil, without having said or intended
any such thing. I have agreed to buy the furniture, but I do not
believe it is for the Gooderes, tho* it may be for the good year.
I wish I was as sure that the one is true, as I am certain that the
other is false !
I can tell Mr. B. nothing about War or Peace. We have a
fleet mighty enough to take, aye, and bring home, Peru and
Mexico, and deposit them in a West India warehouse vis a. vis
that in Leadenhall Street. Tho' we should come by them a
little more honestly than we did by the diamonds of Bengal, I
shall not be sorry if we make peace and condescend to leave the
new world where it was.
236 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1790
Mr. Burke's pamphlet is at last literally advertised for the first
of November.
Monday, 25th.
The little parlour is new hung, and Wolsey has been installed
this morning, and proclaimed president of all the ivaterworTcs
in the world, with shouts of Viva Santa Agnese! With these
festivities I must conclude for this post. Disposed as I am to
be always writing to you two, be sure matter, outward matter,
only is wanting. I send you heaps of trifles, lest I should omit
anything you might like to know, especially as I know not
when you will see an English newspaper. You are not to answer
any of these trumpery articles let me write, it amuses me; but
remember you are gone for your healths, and are not to be
sitting against the edge of a table. Adieu ! Adieu I
p.S. I have just permitted four foreigners to see my house,
tho' past the season, because all their names end in i's, and I
must propitiate Italians, when you are, as I hope, on Hesperian
ground.
J U E N A L.
Tuesday, 2nd. We sent a civil note to Mrs. Trevor,
asking her commands for Florence. She answered us
that she was at home till the hour of the opera, and
hoped to see us, and sent us the key of a box, which we
declined, but went to her soon after five in our riding
habits. Several people came in, all French, of whom her
society at present chiefly consists. She said so much
about our going to the opera, and that there was no im-
propriety in our dress, that we stayed till between eight
and nine, when her whist party was finished, and then
accompanied her to the Carignano Theatre. It has been
burnt down and rebuilt since we saw it last, and is much
neater and prettier no gilding, but the boxes painted
like stucco ornaments, upon a pale green ground, in very
good taste. The opera, ' La Zingara in Fiera,' very pretty ;
the priina donna an admirable singer. I asked in vain for
1790J FROM TURIN TO FLORENCE. 237
her name ; she was La Prima Donna, and nobody knew
more of her. The theatre crowded with French people.
Our box was full of them the whole night ; among others
the Due de Bourbon,* who seems a civil, good-humoured,
gentlemanlike, stupid man. The Trevors pressed us much
to stay and see the hunt at Stupinigi the next day, offer-
ing to carry us first there, and then to Moncalieri (the
first post on our journey onwards), and where (they said)
our carriage might meet us. We therefore agreed, if my
father permitted us, to accept the proposal.
Wednesday r , 3rd. We had intended leaving Turin by
the post, but the voiturier who brought us from Charn-
bery persuaded my father that he would carry us as well.
I confess, after having had the experience of a long jour-
ney, with one very stupid servant and another very use-
less one, I was not sorry to be saved the trouble of all
the bargains, &c., necessary at Italian inns and Italian
rivers, &c., &c. He was to carry us from Turin to Flo-
rence in ten days, stopping half a day at Parma and a
whole day at Bologna, we paying ah 1 expenses of crossing
rivers, &c., for thirty-two louis d'or. At eleven o'clock
* Louis Henri Joseph de Bourbon, Duke of Bourbon and Prince de
Conde, born April 1756, married, April 1770, Marie-Therese d'Orleans, who
died in January 1822. He was the son of Louis Joseph, Prince of Conde",
who died 1818, and was the father of the unfortunate Due d'Enghien. In
1776 he fought a duel with the Comte d'Artois, on account of a quarrel
which had taken place at a masquerade. In 1789 the Duke quitted France
with the rest of the family of the Prince de Conde, and retired to Brussels.
In 1793 he, with the Due d'Enghien, joined the Prince de Conde in the
Black Forest, where three generations were seen combating together. After
the campaign of 1800 he accompanied his father to England, and was
residing at Wanstead House, in Essex, at the time of the murder of his
son in 1804. In 1814 he returned to France. In August, 1830, at his
Chateau de St. Leu, he was found suspended by his own neckerchief to the
iron central fastening of the window. The body was quite cold when the
attendants forced their way into the room. His fortune passed to the Due
d'Aumale, with enormous legacies to Dame Sophia Dawes, Baroness of
Feucheres, with whom he lived, and who was in the house at the time of
his death. Thus perished the last member of the House of Conde. Ann.
Reyister.
238 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1790
we went from Mr. Trevor's in his coach-and-four to Stu-
pinigi, where we found relays, and dogs, and horses, and
people wandering, but heard nothing of the chase. Here
Mr. Trevor mounted his horse and joined the hunt, we
continuing in the carriage and driving about till we heard
the stag was killed ; then our carriage drew up in an allee,
through which all the princes and their suites on horse-
back, and all the ladies in carriages, passed us. The
king* rode up and spoke to Mrs. Trevor ; he is a very
gentlemanlike old man, easy and dignified in his manner.
The Prince de Piedmont is the oddest, ugliest-looking
being I ever beheld, il abuse du privilege non seulement
qu'ont les hommes, mais les princes, d'etre laids. They say
he has a great deal of natural wit, penetration, and clever-
ness. The Prince de Carignan seems grown a great awk-
ward ill-looking young man ; his mother was ill, and not
there. The Comte d'Artois, a great deal fatter and better-
looking than when we saw him at Paris ; his two sons,t
charming, pretty boys, on horseback. They were all in
uniforme de chasse, red, faced with blue, and a broad
silver lace, ugly in itself, but gay and pretty in the field.
After passing us, they went to the Cur^e, where all the
carriages were drawn up. We avoided as much as we
could so disgusting a sight. Afterwards, all the court,
princes, &c., &c., went to Stupinigi in their carriages ;
we followed, and then went in for a moment with Mr.
Trevor to the Great Hall, where the guards, officers, ladies,
&c., were waiting. Without being in good and true taste,
the Palace of Stupinigi is gay-looking and magnificent,
the hall particularly so exactly like a fine opera scene.
We returned to our carriage, and there sat till all the court
* Vittorio Amedeo HI.
t Due d'Angouleme (afterwards Dauphin) and the Due de Berri, sons of
the Comte d'Artois and of Marie-Therese of Savoy. The Due d'Angouleme
accompanied his father to Turin in 1789, and spent there more than a year
with his grandfather, the King of Sardinia. The Due de Berri, born 1778,
was sent to Turin for his education. Chalmers's Biographical Dictionary.
1790] FROM TUEI3S T TO FLORENCE. 239
passed to go to the Palace at Montcaillier, whither we
followed them. I neglected to count the carriages, but I
think there were certainly above a dozen all atteles de
six chevaux, and near a hundred people on horseback
ecuyers, pages, &c., &c. accompanying them. At Mont-
caillier there was a fair through which the court passed,
and the number of people which this had brought together
was uncommonly gay and pretty. We were told that
almost every horse in Turin was there, and that for saddle-
horses people had given as much as forty livres. We
left Mrs. Trevor at the Minister's house, much pleased with
our morning entertainment, and with her and Mr. Trevor's
politeness to us. We left Montcaillier in our own carriage
about three o'clock, and reached Villa Nuova at seven;
the night was very fine, so we were not discomposed
at being above an hour in the dark.
Thursday, 4:th. Left Villa Nuova. Asti, a comfortable,
bustling-like town. Between Asti and Felizano they are
now making a fine new road, at a great expense in le-
velling the ground ; it will save a considerable detour.
Arrived at Felizano ; a wretched inn, where I was eaten
up with fleas.
Friday, 5th. Arrived at Alessandria. Walked about
with my father. It is a considerable town. The place
in which the fair is held (which lasts for eighteen days
twice a year, in May and October) is a large square,
covered in, and divided into streets of shops, like the
Palais Eoyal. When full of people, and lighted up, it
must look very gay and pretty. It belongs to the town.
The shops are let, many of them, for 400 or 500 florins
a year that is to say, 20/. or 25/. a year. There are
about thirteen or fourteen Palazzi Cavalieri in Alessan-
dria two in particular, belonging to a Marchese Gillini
and a Marchese Cassini. are in a style of magnificence
with respect to outward appearance, to size, entry, and
staircase, of which London, and I had almost said Paris,
240 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1790
has no idea. On the other side of Tortona we crossed
the Scrivia, of which I have always retained a disagree-
able impression, from the danger and plague we once
had upon its banks. It was now very quiet, and we
got over without difficulty in the carriage, though the
boat seems neither larger nor more convenient than when
we first passed. Between Tortona and Voghera we also
passed another little river the Corion the channel much
narrower, but, from the appearance of the banks and a
strange awkward-looking boat lying upon them, I should
suppose it might sometimes be troublesome. Getting in
and out of the broad stony channels of these rivers, even
where the waters themselves are passed without difficulty,
is always a disagreeable job, and should be avoided in the
dark. Voghera is a neat little town, enclosed with an
old wall.
Saturday, 6tk. Arrived at Castel S. Giovanni. It had
frozen, and been excessively cold, in the early part of the
morning. The sun was so powerful by the time we
arrived that, after breakfast, we sat and wrote and drew
in the loggia or open gallery of the inn.
Arrived at Piacenza at 5 P.M. All about Piacenza great
flat grass-fields, at this time of the year beautifully green,
and in which are pasturing those fine white-and-dun-
coloured cattle peculiar to this country, and which I think
the handsomest in the world. Before Piacenza, crossed
the Trebia : the channel, I am sure, cannot be less than
three-quarters of a mile wide ; the stream itself is consi-
derable, though we passed it now with ease a gue.
Walked out to the Piazza to look at the two equestrian
statues; that of Eanuzio [Farneze] is the best, but they
are both too much in the French flattering manner, and
neither of them very good, though their effect is fine
from size and situation. The bronze basso-relievos upon
the pedestals, which I do not recollect remarking for-
merly, are good; they are executed in a singular
1790] FROM TURIN TO FLORENCE. 241
manner. There is a new facade of buildings, built by
the town, for shops and private houses ; the Duke of
Parrna gave 400 sequins towards it. In the middle is a
corps de garde. Walked to the Corso, which is really a
noble street, to see Vignola's fine church, to which they
are putting a new front, or rather finishing it ; it is
doing at the expense of the chapter it belongs to, the
architect a Cav r Morigi. It has been five years in pro-
gress, is to be finished in two more, and to cost 14,000
sequins.* The Palazzo Scotti, one of the largest and
finest in Piacenza, has been all painted and repaired
since we were last here ; and, indeed, Piacenza in gene-
ral, and all the towns we have passed through in Italy,
strike me as much improved less dirty and more com-
fortable than they appeared formerly. Whether this is
really so, or is only the effect of coming direct from France
to Italy, which we did not before, I know not ; certain it
is that every little Italian town is a paradise in com-
parison to places of the same size in France. Here the
streets are always straight, well paved, and clean, and
there is always much space both within and without,
which is seldom the case in France. In Piacenza, one of
the most wretched large towns I know in Italy, there are
a number of magnificent-looking palaces, and a hundred
private carriages are kept. The common people in the
town certainly have the appearance of great poverty, and
probably are poor, having no manufactures, little foreign
commerce, and living one upon another ; but the country
people are all well clothed, and look fat and fair and com-
fortable, even to English eyes.
Sunday, 1th. Left Piacenza ; arrived at Borgo S. Do-
nino. It has rained every day, more or less, for this
month past. At Fierenzuola we passed the Lara, a great
* Church of San Agostino, desecrated and closed, and in danger of demo-
lition. This church, by Vignola, is a very noble fabric. The nave is sup-
ported by thirty-four Doric columns. Murray's Handbook*
VOL. I. R
242 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1790
channel, with hardly any water in it ; there is a brick
bridge, to cross where there is too much water. The
country the same uninterrupted rich grass and corn-fields,
with rows of vines down them and along every hedge.
Monday, 8th. Left Borgo S. Donino for Parma. After
breakfast, went to the Accadernia, the Teatro Grande,
and the Campanile Eeale, which are all under one roof.
Correggio does not delight me more than formerly; his
boasted grace is to me affectation has no simplicity, no
dignity about it, and never touches me. I thought more
than ever of the great theatre. If one can fancy such a ruin
new and clean, it must have been magnificent, but, like
many of the great works of little man, much too big for him.
Prom the boxes the figures of persons upon the stage are
lost, but their voices, from its admirable construction, are
heard, without the least elevation, from one end to the other.
At the printing-office they go on very slowly, but their
work is excellent : they had just finished an impression of
three hundred copies of the ' Castle of Otranto,' for Edwards
the bookseller in London, and five copies upon vellum.
With the director (Bodoni), who seems to be a clever man
and fond of his art, I had a good deal of conversation in a
bookseller's shop. Few books, I fancy, are sold at Parma ;
the shop we were in, though the principal one, poorly
supplied. They are furnishing another long gallery with
books at the Eoyal Library, which is open to everybody.
The church of S. Antonio, which I remember pleased
me much formerly, had not the same effect ; it is gay,
but gewgaw and trumpery.
Tuesday, $th. It had rained all night, and continued
pouring ; heard it would be impossible to cross the Secchia
and get to Modena at night. We resolved, however, to get
to Eeggio. The rain still pouring, crossed upon a brick
bridge a river which divides the state of Parma from
Modena ; it entirely filled its wide channel, and was rush-
ing like a torrent, every ditch was a considerable stream,
1790] FKOM TURIN TO FLORENCE. 243
and many of the fields overflowed. In the midst of all
this rain, there were three or four lively flashes of light-
ning, and loud thunder at a distance. Arrived at Eeggio
at 4 P.M.
Wednesday, Wth. We were destined to stay here the
whole day. After breakfast walked all over the town of
Eeggio ; it is not well built (for Italy), though there are
some handsome palaces. In the Duomo there is a monu-
ment to a bishop* a single figure sitting upon a sarco-
phagus of no contemptible sculpture. The shops poor, and
many beggars. The Duchess of Modena, separated from
her husband, the duke,f for these twenty-five or twenty-six
years, has lived here constantly. Her palace by no means
a fine one, just under the ramparts. She is dying of a
complication of disorders.
Thursday, ~Llth. Left Eeggio for Modena. We passed
the Secchia in a good boat ; the river had got back into its
usual course, but had completely filled its channel, which
was now mud and pools of water ; the boatman said no
creature had passed it the day before. There is a new
brick bridge built over the river here ; it has been finished
these three years, but nobody is yet allowed to pass over
it, nor will not, they say, till the spring : the road is
raised up to the bridge at each end, so that it is impos-
sible in future that the river should ever stop the road.
There is a wooden bridge, a post and a half up the river,
which can be crossed when the boat cannot pass. The
courier from Bologna came that way yesterday ; a Swiss
family did the same, from Eeggio, last night. The road to
it very bad, they say. I always remembered Modena as
a remarkably pretty, neat town, and was not disappointed
* The tomb of Ugo Rangoni, Bishop of Reggio.
t Hercule III., Renaud, born in 1727, Duke of Modena in 1780, lost his
duchy by the peace of Luneville in 1801, died in 1803 ; married, in 1741
Marie-Therese-Cibo-Malespina, heiress to Massa and Carrara, who died in
1790. Koch's Tableau des Revolutions de V Europe.
B 2
244 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1790
in it. Went to see the duke's palace, which, when here
before, was not to be seen. The outside front by Dulens,
famous for its four orders of architecture, is magnificent.
In the apartments are some very fine pictures, which the
duke has collected from all the churches in his dominions,
giving them copies. The recesses of all the windows are
hung with drawings, some very fine. The ball-room is
monstrously heavy. The duke never inhabits this apart-
ment ; it is kept, the custode told us, for foreign princes
visiting him, which I fancy never happens, except the
Duke of Milan and his daughter, who come to see him
every year for a day or two.
Friday, 12th. Left Modena. Before Samoggia we
passed the Panaro in a boat ; it is a deep, narrow, rapid
river, the banks steep, and consequently there is a great
difficulty in getting in and out of the boat. Close by the
ferry there was a bridge, which the stream had carried
away, and is now rebuilding ; it has four sorts of square
towers, one at each corner, which looks handsome ; when
finished, the access to Modena on both sides can never again
be interrupted by weather. At entering the Pope's domi-
nions, they ask for contrebande only to get two or three
paoli ; there is no examination bulletin or other trouble.
Arrived at Bologna before 3 P.M. Bologna struck me
as looking dirty and dark after the neat regularity of
Modena, but it is a bustling place, with more appearance
of business and population than almost any other town in
Italy that I know. We found the Pellegrino still an ex-
cellent inn; our bill there for dinner, beds, &c., fifty- three
paoli. We walked to the Sampieri Palace, or Galleria as
it is called, for the pictures are in an unfurnished terreno
apartment of a palace which the family do not inhabit.
Albani's 'Children' did not delight me quite so much as
formerly Guercino's 'Abraham and Hagar,' if possible
more than ever. The 'St. Peter and St. Paul' is a won-
derful painting ; it is Guido with the colouring of Titian,
1790] FROM TURIN TO FLORENCE. 245
but it is a picture that never gave me great pleasure.
This fine collection is so settled by the family to whom
it belongs, that it never can be sold. Failing male
heirs, it goes to the Institute, or Public Academy.
Saturday^ 13^. Left Bologna. The Apennines I think
less disagreeable upon this second view of them than I
did formerly ; they are mostly covered with chesnut woods,
which, though generally small and stunted, are here and
there fine picturesque trees. The inhabitants seem pecu-
liarly wretched and poor. Arrived at Cavagliajo before
six. At the Dogana di Pietra Mala, our trunks, &c., were
sealed and a bulletin given, which carries us into Florence.
Paid only six baiocchi from hence to Cavagliajo. The
roads well kept. An almost continual descent. The vol-
cano we did not see ; either from the great fog, or from
the quantities of rain lately fallen, it may be extinguished
for a time, which they say often happens.
Sunday r , 14^A. Left Cavagliajo. The views beautiful.
Arrived at Maget's, at Florence ; took possession of the
same apartment we had occupied there six years before.
Found ourselves again disappointed in our hopes of re-
ceiving letters, and were very melancholy.
The following letter from Mr. Berry to his friend Mr.
Bertie Greathead* explains the motives that determined
his leaving Florence. It w r as at Florence, upon a former
occasion, that Miss Berry says, in her autobiography, that
she first felt how entirely dependent she was on her own
resources for her conduct, respectability, and success. It
would seem by the following letter that the change from
Florence to Pisa was the result of his daughter's prudence
* Bertie Greathead, Esq., son of Samuel Greathead of Guy's Cliff, near
Warwick, by Mary, daughter of the second Duke of Ancaster. When in
Italy, in 1785, he was one of the contributors to the l Florence Miscellany.'
He was also the author of a tragedy called ' The Regent.' The l Florence
Miscellany ' was unsparingly attacked by Gifford in his ' Beeviad and
Mseviad.' Ann. Register.
246 LETTERS. [1790
on the subject of the society collected together at the
former :
Florence, 7th December, 1790.
DEAR SIR, I have delayed thanking you for your kind com-
munications to us before we set out, and for your letter to Prince
Corsini, till I could give you some satisfactory account of our-
selves, and of our motions past and intended. Here we have
been above three weeks, after an agreeable enough journey
through France and Savoy, without meeting with any mishap
worth mentioning. Since our arrival our time has been spent,
as you may suppose, in reviewing with fresh pleasure the many
productions of the fine arts here that since our first visit had
left on us an impression of their beauty. Here, at first, we
thought of establishing ourselves for good, but the mildness of
the climate of Pisa, and my daughters not choosing to form any
liaison with some of our countrywomen who happen to be here
at present, nor to give offence by shunning their company,
made us resolve to spend the three winter months there, and to
return to Florence in March.
Your letter has procured us every kind civility and attention
from the Corsini family. Not many hours after I left my card
at le Palais Corsini, the Grand Priore called and sat an hour
with us. Many enquiries were made after you and your family.
He then invited us two days after to a ballet champetre, which
every Sunday evening he gives to the peasants in the neigh-
bourhood of Fiesoli, where he has a country house and sleeps
every night. To his ball the girls and I went, and much enter-
tained we were with the perfect ease, and at the same time good
behaviour, of the contadini, and of the kind affability of ft
Grand Priore towards them. My daughter Mary danced the
whole evening with these happy and seemingly innocent country
lads and lasses, with one of whom H Principe himself, though
as you know a little stricken in years, danced down a country
dance. We have since dined with them in a family way most
agreeably. The Prince and Princesse Corsini, his brother, with
Don Tommaso, the son and heir of the family, with two friends
of the family, were the whole company. Madame la Princesse
has since called on my daughters, and introduced us to the
Cassine, where you know the noblesse here meet every evening
to walk about, play at cards, &c., which, though tiresome enough
1790] THE COKSINI FAMILY. 247
to us, is no less obliging in the kind Corsinis for wishing and
taking pains to contribute to our amusement. I mention these
circumstances to show the attention that has been paid to your
letter, and to let you know how much we think ourselves obliged
to you for it.
Mrs. Greathead and you will be pleased to hear that my
daughters have already reaped benefit from the change of air
and exercise since they left England. Agnes has recovered her
complexion, and I trust in Grod they will both return to England
in better health than when they left it. They desire me to tell
you that Italy charms them on a second visit as much as it did
on the first. Quieter, as you observe, it certainly is, but not
less attractive, and we are now more at leisure to observe its
beauties of art and nature.
But, as even the charms of Arno's Vale cannot for any length
of time compensate the loss of social joys, with much pleasure
we look forward to the winter following, when we hope to
return home, and flatter ourselves that you and Mrs. Grreathead
will often find leisure to cheer our fireside in North Audley
Street, where I hope you will sometimes find a small circle of
friends with souls congenial to your own. . . .
I ever am, my dear Sir, your faithful, humble servant,
E. BERRY.
Amongst the letters addressed to the Miss Berrys at
Florence, and of which they were disappointed on first
arriving, were those from Mr. Walpole and from Mrs.
Darner. Notwithstanding Mr. Walpole's fears for the safety
of his friends, their journey through France was ac-
complished without danger ; but of his grief at losing
those loved companions, and his constant anxiety about
them during their absence, there can be no doubt, and is
thus feelingly described by Mrs. Darner, who was herself
on the point of leaving England for Lisbon, on account of
her health :
Thursday, Oct. 30, 1790.
Mr. W. comes to-day. I know how melancholy
he will be, for we have no letters from you yet, and I fear that
I shall leave London without hearing again. . . Jerningham
248 LETTERS. [1790
told me that the night Mr. W. was here (he set Mrs. B. and
him down), when he got into the coach he could not contain
himself. There was nothing melancholy he did not say. He
was quite in an agony. I have not written to him for fear that,
seeing a letter come from me, he should be disappointed in find-
ing that I had no news from France.
Hertford Bridge, Oct. 30, 1790.
... I left Mr. W., I really think, in health well ; but he
receives no degree of comfort as to his fears, nor will, till he
hears and receives letters from another country. The interest
and tenderness he shows makes me feel infinitely more sensibly
giving him any additional pain, and depriving him of the satis-
faction he may, heaven knows ! indulge with me of saying all
he thinks.
The three following letters from Mr. Walpole were
addressed to the Miss Berrys at Florence :
[Str., Sunday, Oct. 31, 1790.
' Perhaps I am unreasonably impatient, and expect letters
before they can come. ... I have got one to-day, but
alas! from Pougues only, 11^ posts short of Lyons! Well!
I must be happy for the past, and that you had such delight-
full weather, and but one little accident to y r carriage. We
have had equal summer till Wednesday last, when it blew a
hurricane. I said to it, e Blow, blow, thou winter wind, I don't
mind you now.' But I have not forgotten Tuesday, 12th. And
now I hope it will be as calm as it is to-day on Wednesday
next, when Mrs. Darner is to sail. I was in town on Thursday
and Friday, and so were her parents, to take our leaves, as we
did on Friday night, supping all at Richmond House. She set
out yesterday morning, and I returned hither.
I am glad you had the amusement of seeing the National
Assembly. Did Mr. B. find it quite so august as he intended
it should be? Burke's pamphlet is to appear to-morrow, and
Calonne has published a thumping one of 440 pages.* I have
but begun it, for there is such a quantity of calculations, and
one is forced to bate so often to boil milliards of livres down to
* Lettre sur 1'Etat de la France, present et a venir.
1790] WALPOLE TO THE MISS BERRYS. 249
a rob of p ds sterling, that my head is only filled with figures
instead of arguments, and I understand arithmetic less than
logic.
Our war still hangs by a hair, they say, and that this ap-
proaching week must terminate its fluctuations. Brabant, I am
told, is to be pacified by negotiations at the Hague. Tho' I
talk like a newspaper, I do not assume their airs, nor give my
intelligence of any sort for authentic, unless when the ' Gazette '
endorses the articles. Thus Lord Louvain is made Earl of
Beverley, and Lord, Earl of, Digby ; but in no Gazette, tho'
still in the Songs of Sion, do I find that Miss Or. * is a marchion-
ess. It is not that I suppose you care who gains a step in the
aristocracy, but I tell you those trifles to keep you au courant,
and that at y r return you may not make only a baronial curtsy,
when it should be lower by two rows of ermine to some new-
hatched countess. This is all the news-market furnishes.
Your description of the National Assembly and of the Champ
de Mars were both admirable ; but the altar of boards and can-
vass seems a type of their perishable constitution, as their
air-balloons were before. French visions are generally full of
vapour, and terminate accordingly. . . .]
You licence me to direct this to Bologna, but I prefer Flo-
rence, and always think that the less complicated the ma-
noeuvres of the post, the safer.
You say nothing of y r healths how are Miss Agnes's
teeth ? Don't omit such essential articles. Miss Seton has
called here again to-day, and was delighted to see y r letter
which I had just received. She does not leave Richmond till
Tuesday, and is to write to me for news of you, if she is long
without hearing from one or other of you. I proposed this
to her, not only for her satisfaction, but that you may not
be worn out by writing. For this reason I make my letters
shorter, to set you the example, tho' I promise not to omit a
tittle that I can think you would like to know ; and in that
light nothing will seem too insignificant to tell you. Even arti-
cles that would scarce do for home consumption acquire a value,
I know, by coming from home. Besides, Lord Hervey, I think,
is not at present at Florence, and you may not see a newspaper.
* Meaning the reported marriage of Miss Gunning to the Marquis of
Blandford.
250 LETTEKS. [1"90
Those wretched Tatlers, that one so justly despises on their
own dunghill, are welcome abroad in hopes of finding a barley-
corn or two that are eatable.
I shall go to Park Place next Saturday, 6th. You know why
I postponed my visit so long. I announce it to you now, because
I shall probably not write on the following Tuesday, but wait till
Friday, 12th, when I shall be returned hither, for I do not love
letters taking so many hops before they get into the high post
road.
p.S. Monday. No letter from Lyons. It may be in B. Sq.,
and I may get it to-morrow ; but it will be after this is gone by
the coach to my servant in town. If I do get it, it will not damp
my impatience for one from Turin, nor that extinguish the same
eagerness for one from Florence in short, I shall not be per-
fectly indifferent till I know you settled somewhere.
[Park Place, Nov. 8, 1790.
No letter since Pougues ! I think you can guess how uneasy
I am ! It is not the fault of the wind, which has blown from
every quarter. To-day I cannot hear, for no post comes in on
Mondays. What can have occasioned my receiving no letter
from Lyons, when on the 18th of last month you were within
twelve posts of it ? I am now sorry I came hither, lest by my
change of place a letter may have shuttlecocked about, and not
have known where to find me.
The first and great piece of. news is the pacification with
Spain. The courier arrived on Thursday morning with a most
acquiescent answer to our ultimatum what that was I don't
know, nor much care ; peace contents me, and for my part I
shall not haggle about the terms.
The pacification of Brabant is likely to be Volume the Second.
The Emperor and their Majesties of Great Britain and Prussia,
and his Serene Highness the Eepublic of Holland have sent a
card to his turbulent Lowness of Brabant that they allow him
but three weeks to submit to his old Sovereign, on promise of
a general pardon, or the choice of threescore thousand men
ready to march without a pardon.
The Third Volume expected, but not yet in the press is a
counter-revolution in France. ... In this country the stock
of the National Assembly is fallen down to bankruptcy. Their
1790] CONTINENTAL IMPOSITIONS. 251
only renegade aristocrat Earl Stanhope has (with Lord W.
Eussell) scratched his name out of the Eevoltition Club, but
the fatal blow has been at last given by Mr. Burke. His
pamphlet came out this day se'nnight, and is far superior to
what was expected even by his warmest admirers. I have redde
it twice, and tho' of 350 pages, I wish I could repeat every
page by heart. It is sublime, profound, and gay. The wit and
satire are equally brilliant, and the whole is wise, tho' in some
points he goes too far ; yet in general there is far less want
of judgment than could be expected from him. If it could be
translated, which from the wit and metaphors and allusions is
almost impossible, I should think it would be a classic book in
all countries, except in present France. To their Tribunes it
speaks daggers, tho', unlike them, it uses none. Seven thou-
sand copies have been taken off by the booksellers already, and
a new edition is preparing. I hope you will see it soon. There
ends my gazette.]
To-day is very tine, and the wind has been favorable these two
days for Mrs. Darner. I am out of humour with Miss Foldson.*
Tho 1 paid for, she has not yet sent y r pictures, and has twice
broken her promise of finishing them.
I have taken a great liberty, which I hope Mr. B. will for-
give, tho' a breach of trust. Having only a coach myself, and
Saturday being very wet, and being afraid of a bad hired chaise,
I did allow myself to use his hither. I will do so no more.
I reserve the rest of my paper for, I hope, an answer. ! I
do hope so.
[Str., 9th, at night.
This morning, before I left Park-place, I had the relief and joy
of receiving your letter of Oct. 29 from Lyons. It would have
been still more welcome if dated from Turin ; but as you have
met with no impediments so far, I trust you got out of France
as well as through it. I do hope too that Miss Agnes is better,
as you say ; but when one is very anxious about a person, cre-
dulity does not take long strides in proportion. I am not sur-
prised at your finding voiturins or anybody or anything dearer.
Where all credit and all controul are swept away, every man
will be a tyrant in proportion to his necessities and his strength.
Societies were invented to temperate force ; but it seems force
* Afterwards Mrs. Mee.
252 LETTEKS. [ir<
was liberty; and much good may it do the French with being
delivered from everything but violence ! which, I believe, they
will soon taste pro and con.] For the impositions on you there
is a remedy at Charing-cross.
I have received all your five letters. / have sent three to
Turin of 16, 19, 25 of Oct., and one of Nov. 2 to Florence.
To-day's paper says the ratification of the peace with Spain is
arrived. The Stocks are extremely pleased with it.
I thought in one of my last that Lord Hervey was in England,
but it is only my Lady, as his cousins told me yesterday at P. P.
[You make me smile by desiring me to continue my affec-
tion. Have I so much time left for inconstancy ? For three
score years and ten I have not been very fickle in my friendships
in all those years I never found such a pair as you and y r
sister. Should I meet with a superior pair but then they must
not be deficient in any one of the qualities which I found in you
two why perhaps I may change ; but with that double mort-
gage on my affections, I do not think you are in much danger of
losing them. You shall have timely notice if a second couple
drops out of the clouds and falls in my way.
Nov. Hth.
I had a letter from Mrs. Darner at Falmouth. She suffered
much by cold and fatigue, and probably sailed on Saturday
evening last, and may be at Lisbon by this time, as you, I trust,
are in Italy.
Mr. Burke's pamphlet has quite turned Dr. Price's head. He
got upon a table at their club, toasted to our Parl. becoming a
National Assembly, and to admitting no more peers of their
assembly having lost the only one they had. They themselves
are very like the French Etats. Two more members got on
the table (their pulpit) and broke it down. So be it !
The Marquisate* is just where it was. To be and not to be.
Dss. Argyll is said to be worse. Delia Cruscaf has published a
poem called the Laurel of Liberty, which, like the Enrages,
has confounded and overturned all ideas. There are gossamery
tears and silky oceans. The first time to be sure that anybody
The reported marriage of Miss Gunning to the Marquis of Blandford,
Robert Merry, Esq., the object of the caustic satire of Mr. Gifford in the
Baeviad and Maeviad.
1790] ANIMOSITY OF THE FRENCH. 253
ever cried cobwebs, or that the sea was made of Padua soy.
There is besides a violent tirade against a considerable person-
age, who, it is supposed, the author was jealous of as too much
favoured a few years ago by a certain countess. You may guess
why I am not more explicit : for the same reason I beg you not
to mention it at all ; it would be exceedingly improper.]
Strawberry Hill, Nov. 13, 1790.
Oh ! yes, yes, Chamberry is more welcome than Turin, tho' I
thought nothing could make me so happy as a letter from the
latter ; but Chamberry is nearer, and has made me easy sooner.
What a melancholy forlorn object did I think that antique capi-
tal of a dismal dutchy formerly ! It looked like a wife who had
been deserted by her husband for many years, and kept at his
old mansion in Westmorland, while he was living with an
actress in London. Now I am surprised the King of Sardinia
does not return to that delightful spot, which appears to me
like the palace of the sun, diffusing light and warmth even to
the northern islands. With what anxiety did I read your letter
while you were in the hands of the savages at Burgoin ! I
figured them with scalping knives and setting up a war-whoop !
But you are all safe, and I shall not have another panic till you
are returning, which I hope will not be thro' European Abys-
sinia, that land of hyaenas ! Pray burn all my letters ; I trem-
.bled when they were ransacking y r trunks, lest they should meet
with any of them ; for tho' I was very cautious while you were
in France, I was afraid that my eagerness to learn y r arrival at
Turin might be misinterpreted, tho' meaning nothing but impa-
tience to know you out of France, into which I hope you will never
set y r feet more, but return home thro' Switzerland and Flanders,
which I conclude will be resettled shortly. At any rate, I insist
on y r burning this, that you may not forget it and have it in y r
trunk. I was the more alarmed, as I have lately heard that
Lord Bruce* and Mr. Locke, f whom Miss Agnes has rivalled,
riding out in Languedoc, escorted by two national guards, and
the former spitting, the wind carried the spittle on one of those
heroes, on which they seized our countrymen and imprisoned
them all night in a sentry-box, for imprisonment is the charac-
teristic of liberty, and when all men are equal, accidents are
* The late Marquis of Ailesbury.
f William Locke, Esq., of Norbury, in Surrey.
254 LETTEES. [1790
punished as only crimes used to be ; which makes it delicious
to live in a state of nature ! I am so relieved by y r letter that I
do not believe I shall be uneasy about you again this month.
About Miss Agnes, yes, unless I hear she is as well as if every day
was a Chamberry-day. By the way, you affront my dear city
by calling it a dirty place. So far from that, it is snug, beau-
tiful, sublimibus alta columnis, and deserves to be the metro-
polis of Europe.
You must have been charmed at the comedie. I was,
tho' not there, and prefer Mdlle. (what is her name ?) to the
Sainval. In short, I am so content that I shall not inquire
any more about the foreign post, nor care whether you write to
me or not ; at least, pray don't plague me with long letters the
moment you arrive anywhere fatigued and cold. Seriously, I do
beg you not to write long letters ; let me chatter to you as
much as I will. My mind is at peace, which it has not been
at all since the first moment you talked of passing thro'
France, and I was not the happiest man in the world from the
day Mr. Batt told me of y r intention of going abroad. After
both came the storm the day you sailed. Chamberry has made
amends for a good deal, and I will pass a few oh 1 I fear more
than a few months contentedly ; but then there is to come a
journey back not through France, I hope : the sea to cross,
which I shall not leave out of my reckoning a second time ! All
may be forgotten, if I see you next autumn at Cliveden, at y r
own Cliveden, alias little Chamberry.
I know nothing, nothing at all ; but I go to town to-morrow
for two days, and may pick up something ; but I could not help
indulging my joy by writing this against Tuesday's post, tho' I
wrote but yesterday. For the future I will not be so intempe-
rate. I have sent a line from Chamberry to Miss Seton, and
shall dispatch another by the first packet to Lisbon, for I am
not so very particular. Others can be anxious about you as well
as I.
[Berkeley Square for now you are clear of the Abyssinians,
no place is afraid of signing its own name Tuesday, 15th.
I might as well be in a country village. You will not be a
tittle the wiser for my being in London, which is still a solitude.
I have not heard a syllable of news. I supped at Miss Farren's*
* Afterwards Countess of Derby.
1790] DELAYS OF THE POST. 255
last night. There were only Lord Derby and Lady Milner ;*
the latter produced a letter from her sister-in-law, Mrs. Sturt,
where Lord Blandford is and has been these three months. She
says he has heard of his pretended letter,! laughs at it, and pro-
tests it is not his, nor is there the least foundation for it.
Mrs. Darner did not sail so soon as she expected; at least,
the wind was contrary both on the Saturday and Sunday; but it
has been favourable since, and I hope she is at Chamberry pho !
I mean Lisbon.
If I learn nothing before to-morrow, when I shall return to
Strawberry, I shall let this amble to Florence without a word
more. Adieu !]
Saturday, Ilth December. (Journal.) Left Florence as
soon as the gates opened, which was only at seven o'clock.
The road to Pisa excellent, mostly along the banks of the
Arno.
Miss Berry's correspondence with Mr. Walpole in Eng-
land, and with Mrs. Darner in Portugal, was subject to
many disappointments, and the letters as well as jour-
nals contain often-repeated lamentations on the vexatious
delays of the post. The extracts here given from Mrs.
Darner's letters, together with Mr. Walpole's letters, were
received by Miss Berry during their residence at Pisa.
From, Mr. Walpole.
[Str., Thursday, Nov. 18, 1790.
On Tuesday morning, after my letter was gone to the post, I
received y rs of the 2nd (as I have all the rest) from Turin.
You will find my Tuesday's letter, if ever you receive it, in-
toxicated with Chamberry, for which and all your kind per-
sonality I give you a million of thanks. But how cruel to find
that you found none of my letters at Turin ! There ought to
have been two at least, of Oct. 1 6th and 1 9th ; but alas ! from
ignorance, there was par Paris on none of them, and the Lord
* Diana Sturt j married to Sir William Milner, of Nunappleton, in
Yorkshire.
| Relative to the pretended marriage with Miss Gunning.
256 LETTERS. [1790
knows at how many little German courts they may have been
baiting ! Eepose you will have at Florence, but I shall fear the
winter for you there. I suffered more by cold there than by
any place in my life, and never came home at night without a
pain in my breast, which I never felt elsewhere ; yet then I was
very young and in perfect health. If either of you suffer there
in any shape I hope you will retire to Pisa.
My inquietude, that presented so many alarms to me before
you set out, has, I find, and am grieved for it, not been quite
in the wrong. Some inconveniences, I am persuaded, you have
sunk ; yet the difficulty of landing at Dieppe, and the ransack
of y r poor harmless trunks at Burgoin, and the wretched
lodgings with which you were forced to take up at Turin, count
deeply with me, and I had much rather have lost all credit as a
prophet, since I could not prevent y r journey. May it answer
for y r healths ! I doubt it will not in any other respect, as you
have already found by the voiturins. In point of pleasure, is
it possible to divest myself so radically of all self-love as to wish
you may find Italy as agreeable as you did formerly ? In all
other lights I do most fervently hope there will be no draw-
backs on your plan. Should you be disappointed any way, you
know what a warm heart is open to receive you back, and so
will your own Cliveden be too.
I am glad you met the Bishop of Arras,* and am much pleased
that he remembers me. I saw him very frequently at my dear
old friend's, and liked him the best of all the Frenchmen I
ever knew. He is extremely sensible, easy, lively, and void of
prejudices. Should he fall in y r way again, I beg you will tell
him how sincere a regard I have for him. He lived in the
strictest union with his brother, the Archbishop of Tours, whom
I was much less acquainted with, nor know if he be living.
Miss Foldson has not yet sent me y r pictures. I was in
town on Monday, and sent to reproach her with having twice
broken her promise. Her mother told my servant that Miss
was at Windsor, drawing the Queen and Princesses. That is
not the work of a moment. I am glad all the Princes are not
on the spot.] The Charming Man passed Tuesday here, and
" M. de Couzies. In 1801 lie declined the Archbishopric of Paris, offered
him by Bonaparte, and died in London in the year 1804, in the arms of the
Comte d'Artois. Wright.
1790] LATE HOURS. 257
part of yesterday, and I carried him back to Lady Mount Edg-
cumbe ; to-day he goes to Park-place, and thence to Nuneham.
Old Brutus was at the point of death the night before last ; I
have not heard of her since.
[I think of continuing here till the weather grows very bad,
which it has not been at all yet, tho' not equal to what I am
rejoiced you have found. I have no Somerset or Audley Street
to receive me. Mrs. Damer is gone, too ; the Conways remain
at Park-place till after Christmas. It is entirely out of fashion
for women to grow old and stay at home in an evening. They
invite you, indeed, now and then, but do not expect to see you
till midnight, which is rather too late to begin the day, unless
one was born but 20 years ago. I do not condemn any fashions
which the young ought to set, for the old certainly ought not ;
but an oak that has been going on in its old way for an hundred
years cannot shoot into a Maypole in three years, because it is
the mode to plant Lombardy poplars. What I should have
suffered if your letters, like mine, had wandered thro' Ofer-
many ! I, you was sure, had written, and was in no danger.
Dr. Price, who had whetted his ancient talons last year to no
purpose, has had them all drawn by Burke ; and the Revolution
Club is as much exploded as the Cock Lane Grhost ; but you, in
order to pass a quiet winter in Italy, would pass through a fiery
furnace. Fortunately you have not been singed, and the letter
from Chamberry has composed all my panics, but has by no
means convinced me that I was not perfectly in the right to
endeavour to keep you at home. One does not put one's hand
in the fire to burn off a hangnail ; and, tho' health is delightful,
neither of you were out of order enough to make a rash experi-
ment. I w d not be so absurd as to revert to old arguments,
that happily proved no prophecies, if my great anxiety about
you did not wish in time to persuade you to return thro' Swis-
serland and Flanders, if the latter is pacified and France is not,
of which I see no likelihood. Pray forgive me, if parts of my
letters are sometimes tiresome ; but can I appear only and
always cheerful when you two are absent, and have another
long journey to make aye, and the sea to cross again ? My
fears cannot go to sleep, like a paroli at faro, till there is a
new deal, in which even then I should not be sure of winning.
If I see you again, I will think I have gained another milJeleva,
VOL. I. S
258 LETTERS. [1790
as I literally once did, with this exception, that I was vehe-
mently against risking a doit at the game of travelling. Adieu !]
[Strawberry Hill, Friday night, Nov. 27, 1790.
I am waiting for a letter from Florence, not with perfect
patience, tho' I could barely have one, even if you did arrive as
you intended, on the 12th. But twenty temptations might have
occurred to detain you in that land of eye and ear-sight. My
chief eagerness is to learn that you have received at least some
of my letters. I wish too to know, tho' I cannot yet, whether
you would have me direct par Paris, or as I did before. In this
state of uncertainty, I did not prepare this to depart this morn-
ing ; nor, tho' the Parliament met yesterday, have I a syllable of
news for you, as there will be no debate till all the members
have been sworn, which takes two or three days. Moreover, I
am still here ; the weather, tho' very rainy, is quite warm, and
I have much more agreeable society at Richmond, with small
companies and better hours than in town, and shall have till
after Christmas, unless great cold drives me thither. Lady
Di, Selwyn, the Penns, the Onslows, Douglas's, Mackinsys,
Keenes, Lady Mt. Edgcumbe, all stay, and some of them meet
every evening. The Boufflers's, too, are constantly invited,
and the Comtesse Emilie sometimes carries her harp, on which
they say she plays better than Orpheus ; but as I never heard
him on earth, nor chez Proserpine, I do not pretend to decide.
Lord Fitzwilliam * has been here too, but was in the utmost
danger of being lost on Saturday night, in a violent storm be-
tween Calais and Dover, as the captain confessed to him when
they were landed. Do you think I did not ache at the recollec-
tion of a certain Tuesday, when you were sailing to Dieppe ?]
Mr. Cambridge sent me notice yesterday that he and his
daughter have let y r house very favorably for five months,
will you forgive me when I own I was glad it was for no longer?
His Parnassian vein is opened again ; it is full moon.
Particularly to Miss Agnes.
[Sunday, 28th.
Tho' I write to both at once, and reckon your letters to come
* Richard, seventh and last Viscount Fitzwilliam, the munificent bene-
factor to the University of Cambridge, died 1816.
179/1 WALPOLE'S OPIXIOX OP COEREGGIO'S WORKS. 259
equally from both, yet I delight in seeing y r hand with a pen
as well as with a pencil, and you express yourself as well with
the one as with the other. Your part in that which I have been
so happy as to receive this moment has singularly obliged me,
by your having saved me the terror of knowing you had a tor-
rent to cross after heavy rain. No cat is so afraid of water for
herself as I am grown to be for you. That panic, which will
last for many months, adds to my fervent desire of your return-
ing early in the autumn, that you may have neither fresh water
nor the silky ocean to cross in winter. Precious as our insular
situation is, I am ready to wish, with the Frenchman, that you
could somehow or other get to it by land ( Oui, c'est une isle
toujours, je le scais bien; mais, par exemple, en allant d'alentour,
n'y auroit-il pas moyen d'y arriver par terre ? ']
I was delighted, too, to hear yesterday from Mr. C., from y r
sister's letter, that you had recovered your healthy looks ; pray
bring them back with you. Y r house is let for six months, and
at seven guineas a week. This and the rest is to both, and in
answer.
[Correggio never pleased me in proportion to his fame. His
Grace touches upon grimace ; the mouth of the beautiful angel
at Parma curls up almost into a half moon. Still I prefer
Correggio to the lourd want of grace in Guercino, who is to me
a German edition of Guido. I am sorry the bookseller would
not let you have an ( Otranto.' Edwards told me above two
months ago that he every day expected the whole impression,
and he has never mentioned it waiting for my corrections. I
will make Kirgate write to him, for I have told you that I am
still here. We have had much *ain but no flood, and yesterday
and to-day have exhibited Florentine skies.
From town I know nothing but that on Friday, after the
King's speech, Earl Stanhope made a most frantic speech on the
National Assembly, and against Calonne's book, which he
wanted to have taken up for high treason. He was every
minute interrupted by loud bursts of laughter, which was all
the answer he received or deserved. His suffragan, Price, has
published a short, sneaking, equivocal answer to Burke, in which
he pretends his triumph over the King of France . alluded to
July, not to October, tho' his sermon was preached in November.
Credat but not Judseus Apella as Mr. Burke so wittily says
s 2
9(30 LETTERS. [1790
of the assignats. Mr. Grenville, the Secretary of State, is
made a peer ; they say to assist the Chancellor* in the House of
Lords. Yet the papers pretend the Chancellor is out of humour
and will resign ; the first may be true, the latter probably not.
Kichmond, my metropolis, flourishes exceedingly. The D. of
Clarence arrived at his palace there last night, between eleven
and twelve, as I came from Lady Douglas. His eldest brother
and Mrs. Fitzherbert dine there to-day, with the D. of Queens-
bury, as his Grace, who called here this morning, told me, on
the very spot where lived Charles I., and where are the portraits
of his principal courtiers, from Cornbury. Q. has taken to that
palace at last, and has frequently company and music there in
an evening. I intend to go.]
The very old uncle of the Abbe Nichols is dead, and, as he
tells me, has left well to his mother and him, and he is come to
live there with her, and I shall hear him sing, I conclude, at the
Duke's concerts. The (running match remains, I believe, in statu
quo non. My coachman does air y r chaise : have you received
my letter which tells you how much liberty I took in airing it ?
Two mails have arrived at Falmouth this week from Lisbon,
and yet I have not yet heard of Mrs. D.' 8 arrival there, but
I conclude her father has.
Monday, 29th.
I am going to dine at Hampton with Lady Cecilia John-
stone, and am to attend her in the evening to Lady Mary Dun-
can's, Monday, whom I never happened to visit before, tho'
we have been so long inhabitants of the same planet. I hope
not to pass so many evenings out of my own parish this time
twelvemonth ! Old Brutus is Itill alive, but almost insensible.
[I suppose none of my Florentine acquaintance are still upon
earth. The handsomest woman there of my days was a Madame
Grifoni, my fair Geraldine. She would now be a Methusalem-
mess, and much more like a frightful picture I have of her by
a one-eyed German painter. I lived there with Sir Horace
Mann, in Casa Mannetti, in Via de' Santi Apostoli, by the Ponte
di Trinita. Pray worship the works of Masaccio, if any remain,
tho' I think the best have been burnt in a church. Eaphael
himself borrowed from him. Fra Bartolommeo, too, is one of my
standards for great ideas ; and Benvenuto Cellini's ( Perseus ' a
* Lord Tlmrtow.
1790] DELAYS OF THE POST. 261
rival of the antique, tho' Mrs. D. will not allow it. Over against
the Perseus is a beautifull small front of a house, with only
three windows, designed by Eaphael; and another, I think,
near the Porta San Grallo, and I believe called Casa Panciatici,
or Pandolfini.]
I hope to-morrow or next day to receive y r letter from
Florence, but am forced to send this to town to-night. If you
have not received all my letters, you will not understand some
passages in this. You have, I trust, recovered the fatigues of
y r journey. Adieu!
Strawberry Hill, Thursday at midnight, Dec. 10, 1790.
After receiving yours from Bologna ten days ago, I expected
another from Florence in three days, as you promised to write
thence on y r arrival, but I have none till this minute, that on
returning from Eichmond, I find one on my table dated as long
ago as the 16th of last month, and what, alas! has it told me
but y r utter disappointment and most natural vexation at the
loss, at least at the want, of any one letter, but Mrs. D.'s, from
England. Oh ! how shall I expect you to receive any, if all
have miscarried ; how shall I direct mine ? Till you told me to
put par Paris, I did direct like Mrs. D., yet you have not
received them. I know but one consolation to offer to you, and
that is, all failing, you have no reason to be alarmed particularly
for any of y r friends ; and for a succedaneum to y r loss of the
thread of domestic occurrences, I will keep a minute journal of
all I know and hear, and keep it till I can send it by some
secure hand or method. In my present distress for you and
myself on this cruel disappointment and uncertainty, I cannot
recollect anything I have said, and I must send this away to
town to-morrow in time, or it will not set out before Tuesday, by
which time I will try to remember what events have happened,
tho' at this moment I cannot recall a single one of any conse-
quence. How happy I shall be if by that day I can learn that
your letters have at last reached you !
This being but a momentary essay to see if you can get a line
from me, and half in despair at the sad cruel prospect of our
correspondence being cut off, I will say but few words more,
to assure you I am perfectly well, and will search every method
upon earth of conveying letters to you. I have not heard
262 LETTEKS. [1790
from Mrs. D. yet, but conclude her parents have, as I see by
the papers two packets have arrived from Lisbon, and the last
I conclude since she must have landed there. That letters to
you, two private young Englishwomen, going to Italy for
health, and connected with nobody ministerial here, and cor-
responding with nobody but persons involved in no party, and
writing about nothing political, should be opened in France,
and still more wonderful, should continue to be opened there
and not forwarded, is quite astonishing ! I should rather suspect
they have gone by Flanders and been lost in the confusions
there; but as the Emperor is now in possession again of that
country, I hope our terrible interruption will cease.
If you receive this, you may be satisfied that y r grandmother
has heard of you, as I have received every one of yours. Why
yours should come, and ours be stopped or retarded, is incon-
ceivable.
I could write on this subject all night, but as it is so late, and
Philip must carry this to town by eight to-morrow, I will con-
clude for the present, after telling you that I wrote to you,
directed to Turin, Oct. 16, 19, 25, and to Florence, Nov. 2, 11,
16th, and thither par Paris, 19th and 29th. How I do hope
you have got some at least ! Adieu, adieu !
Berkeley Square, Dec. 16, 1790.
I am still infinitely distressed about your receiving no letters
from England, and still ignorant whether you have yet received
any. Your last was from Florence of the 16th of last month,
and you promised to write again immediately ; but the strong
westerly winds (which on Sunday night blew a tempest, and
broke off a considerable branch of my beautifull ivied walnut-
tree at Strawberry) have prevented (and I hope nothing else
has) our receiving any letters from the Continent. My best
consolation has been from Miss Penn, who tells me her brother,
now at Florence, was some time without letters, but then did
receive them. May this have been your case you may ask him.
I desired her to write to him to acquaint you that Miss Seton
and I have received all your letters regularly, consequently
y r grandmother has not been alarmed.
In this suspense I only write, f that if our letters do find
passage to you, you may have no interval ; tho' till I hear they
1790] CLIVEDEN SECURED. 263
do, I cannot write comfortably. Should any French have
stopped them, surely they must have discovered by this time
that they might as well have a curiosity about letters to
Abyssinia ! But how unpleasant that you cannot, not only
hear the common chit-chat of y r own country, but receive no
account of y r own private affairs. You perhaps do not yet
know that y r house is let for six months at seven guineas a-
week. I called on Mr. Cambridge on Sunday evening ; his son
George, as well as I, have sent you notice of it, and the latter
too of what I did not know, that he has sold Mr. Berry's horse.
If you have received our letters, these will be unnecessary
repetitions ; but I want so much to give such satisfactory in-
formation, that I shall not spare redits till I am sure you are
informed.
In mine of last week I was so confounded at y r disappoint-
ment, that I forgot to give you, as you desired, the direction to
Mrs. D. It is ' Aux- Soins de Messieurs Mellish et de Visme, a
Lisbon.' I have heard from her thence ; she had a passage but
of seven days.
I came to town yesterday purely on y r account, and return
to-morrow. Cliveden was this morning secured to you and y r
sister in form.
Poor Lady Herries has lost the use of her limbs, and is at
Bath in a melancholy way. I called on Mrs. Buller last night,
and unluckily found seven persons who had dined with her : so
you may imagine my visit was short. Lord Bute has had a fall
from his own cliff of 28 feet, sprained his ankle, and broke
the little bone of it, but, tho' 77, is recovering.
The Opposition seem very temperate and tame, and the
Court's majorities are great. The three Garters were given away
yesterday to the Duke of Saxe Gotha, the Duke of Leeds, and
Lord Chatham. All this perhaps you will learn earlier from
our newspapers. Of private news I do not know a tittle, but I
would try once more to acquaint you with y r own affairs by the .
common post. If none of these succeed, I will try some other
channel, for I cannot bear your living ignorant of all that con-
cerns you. I will write round by Eussia, and beg the Empress
to make it a condition of peace, that the Grand Signer shall
send a zebecque to Leghorn with my letters. Adieu ! for the
present.
264 LETTERS. [1790
p.g. I am sorry I was so much in the right, when I endea-
voured to dissuade y r journey, from the various inconveniencies
I foresaw, tho' I own loss of letters was not one of the number.
Strawb., Friday night, Dec. 17, 1790.
My letters set out on the back of one another. I wish I
could know that any one of them, but that at Lyons, had
reached you ! I sent off the llth from London this morning,
but here is a new and great distress ! Last week I received y r
first from Florence, with an account of y r shocking disappoint-
ment in finding no letters from England there or at Turin, tho'
all yours have come regularly to me and Miss Seton, and I
conclude to others, so you may be satisfied that y r grandmother
has been under no alarm about you. Y P Florentine letter pro-
mised another, in which I trusted I should learn that your
letters had followed you, as Mr. Penn's have done him ; but
alas ! if you have sent such a letter, I shall probably never
receive it, fur a French pacquet from Calais to Dover sank in
the great storm on Tuesday with all the crew, 30 persons, and
I suppose the mails too, for the English pacquet escaped at the
same time, and yet I have no letter, which I must have had
to-night, for Kirgate followed me by the evening coach. One
great consolation he has brought me, a permission to send this
in Lord Hervey's packet, which sets me to writing with confi-
dence; . . .
The Parliament has been moderate, and the Court's majorities
considerable. The chief difficulty is, whether Hastings's trial is
to proceed, and that point is not yet settled. The Duke of Mont-
rose is master of the horse ; Mr. W. Grenville a peer. . . . The
famous letter, and another to the same purport, of which we
were told the night before you set out, is discovered to be a
forgery, but the writer not found out, yet supposed to be the
very person who repeated it to us ; but do not write this back
to England, nor mention it where you are, I beg.
Mrs. Siddons is playing again to crowded houses.
For my own history, I am still resident here. We have had
several beautiful days, a vast deal of rain and high winds, but
scarce any cold. Eichmond is still full, and will be so till after
Christmas. The Duke of Clarence is there, and every night at
Mrs. Bouverie's, Lady Di's, at home, or at the Duke of Queens-
1790] WALPOLE'S ANXIETY ABOUT HIS FRIENDS. 265
bury's, with suppers that finish at twelve. I have been at three,
but I do not think seventy-three just suited to twenty-five, and
therefore have excused myself from as many, and believe I
shall settle in town before New Year's Day, tho' the hours in
London, even of old folks, are not half so reasonable as those of
this young Prince, who never drinks or games, and is extremely
good humoured and well bred.
If I have anything more to tell you before Sunday morning,
when this must go to town for Tuesday's post, I will add it ;
but still trusting that you may at last have received my former
letters, I have been very brief on what I have mentioned in
them. One thing I must repeat with emphasis : I implore you
not to return thro' France, especially as Flanders is now re-
settled. I as earnestly beseech you to be in England by the
end of September. I never shall forget the storm in which
you so narrowly escaped going to Dieppe, and this last Tuesday
has been still more tremendous. Torrents in Italy too ! For
France, the horrors increase. The son of a friend of mine
called on me yesterday ; he is of Cambridge, and told me that
two lords of his acquaintance had the curiosity to go to France
this summer, and he was on the point of going with them, but
was prevented. At Lyons they were seized for spies, and had
the rope about their necks ; but a man of letters coming by,
they explained themselves to him in Latin, which they had not
been able to do sufficiently in French, and he saved them. I
know how well you speak Latin and French too, but as the
benefit of clergy is so lately taken away in that country, I beg
you will never set y r foot in it, but, seriously and most seriously,
spare me more alarms ! I shall have no tranquillity till you are
safe in England again. I know I have no right to ask you to
sacrifice your own satisfactions to mine ; but mine are not the
sole ; yourselves have been suffering for what you thought y r
grandmother must have felt on y r accounts. The present state
of France, and surely it is not mending, has already caused
you many inconveniencies. At Eouen you could get nothing
but paper it is ten times worse now. What if you should not
be able to proceed from want of assistance from bankers, who
could come to relieve you ! nay, should we be sure of getting y r
letters ? Oh ! ponder these things, and listen to me at least for
y r return ! I will not look back, but I must look forward, while
266 LETTERS. [1790
I am on earth to study y r happiness and security. That cannot
be long but should I fail before y r return, who will be equally
active for y r service ? You have been so kind as to tell me I
am y r true friend ; should I be so if I did not labour to prevent
dangers for you, and did not warn you of them ? I write so
freely and warmly, as sure of y r receiving this, tho' not certain
I shall have leave to make use of the same conveyance often.
Cultivate L d Hervey ; he may perhaps allow you to receive Miss
Seton's and my letters in his packets but keep that a secret.
I could write all night, but surely you must see that my fears
are neither ill-founded nor selfish. Good night ! may Heaven
preserve you !
Saturday night.
I have nothing to add, but that I am persuaded the mail is
lost, for I have no letter, and have written to Miss Seton to
acquaint her with my suspicion that she may tranquillize y r
grandmother. This is a vile sheet of paper and sucks up the
ink, and I have not time to transcribe it.
Poor Lady Douglas (Lady Frances Scott) was brought to bed
ten days ago ; is most dangerously ill, and this morning's mes-
sage said the fever no better.
I fear a particular passage to Miss Agnes in answer to her
kind scrap must have been amongst the letters whose fate is
still unknown to me but all mine are equally to both, as
Cliveden is ; and for fear of mistakes or y r removal, I make the
address of this double.
Strawberry Hill, Dec. 20, 1790, very late at night.
This being a duplicate or rather a codicil to one that goes
away to-morrow from the Secretary's Office in Lord Hervey's
packet, I do not put any numero to it, and as it must go
hence to-morow very early by the coach, I write a few lines
just to contradict what I have said about lost letters in the letter
you will receive from our Minister.
[The French pacquet that was said to be lost on Tuesday last,
and which did hang out signals of distress, was saved, but did
not bring any letters ; but three Flemish mails that were due,
are arrived, and did bring letters, and, to my inexpressible joy,
two from you of the 22nd and 29th of last month, telling me
that you have received as far as N 4 and 5 of mine. I am
1790] SATISFACTOEY COEEESPONDEXCE. 267
ashamed to say that with this there are eight more arrived or on
the road. Y rs received to-night are 10 and 11. I conclude
Miss Seton will receive one or two from one of you to-morrow at
farthest, as I am sorry to say she has one from me this morning,
I suppose, lamenting the loss of the French pacquet. Thank all
the stars in HerschelPs telescope or beyond its reach, that our
correspondence is out of the reach of France and all its ravages !]
I truly have been in such distress and confusion about y r
finding no letters at Florence, that I have scarce thought or
talked of anything else but contrivances to remedy that disaster.
Y r two letters have made me quite easy, and I shall fall into our
natural commerce again.
Y r letters, tho' I still maintain longer than I wish you to
write, contain everything I like to know except the last article,
but the uppermost in my thoughts, y r drinking whey from
having been overheated by y r journey. I hope y r next will
be as minute, on that article, and as satisfactory as y r account
of Miss Agnes, which doubles the pleasure the arrival of
these letters has given me. I rejoice that Mr. Berry continues
so well.
After a deluge of letters for some days, I have not left myself
a tittle to tell you. Nay, doubting whether any w d reach you,
I have repeated three or four times every tittle I wanted you to
know.
[Thank you a million of times for all y r details about your-
selves. Whenever the apprehension of any danger disquiets me
so much, judge whether I do not interest myself in every parti-
cular of y r pleasures and amusements. Florence was my delight
as it is yours ; but I don't know how I wish you did not like it
quite so much ! And after the Grallery how will any silver-
penny of a gallery book ? Indeed for y r Boboli, which I thought
horrible even fifty years ago, before Shepherds had seen the star
of taste in the West, and glad tidings were proclaimed to their
flocks, I do think there is not an acre on the banks of the
Thames that should vail the bonnet to it.
Of Mr. Burke's book, if I have not yet told you my opinion,
I do now that it is one of the finest compositions in print.
There is reason, logic, wit, truth, eloquence, and enthusiasm in
the brightest colours. That it has given a mortal stab to sedi-
tion I believe and hope, because the fury of the Brabanters,
268 LETTERS. [1790
whom, however, as having been aggrieved, I pity and distinguish
totally from the savage Gauls, and the unmitigated and exe-
crable injustices of the latter, have made almost any state pre-
ferable to such anarchy and desolation that increases every day.
Admiring thus as I do, I am very far from subscribing to the
extent of almost all Mr. Burke's principles. The work I have no
doubt will hereafter be applied to support very high doctrines, and
to you I will say, that I think it an Apocrypha, that in many a
council of bishops will be added to the Old Testament. Still
such an Almanzor was wanting at this crisis, and his foes show
how deeply they are wounded by their abusive pamphlets. Their
Amazonian allies, headed by Kate Macaulay* and the virago
Barbauld,f whom Mr. Burke calls our Poissardes, spit their rage
at eighteen pence a head, and will return to Fleet Ditch, more
fortunate in being forgotten than their predecessors immortal-
ized in the 'Dunciad.'
I must now bid you good night, and night it is to the tune of
morning. Adieu all three !]
P.S. I am glad you did not get a Parmesan Otranto. A copy
is come so full of faults, that it is not fit to be sold here.
To Mr. Berry.
Strawberry Hill, Dec. 23, 1790.
DEAR SIR, If your letter did not give me so much plea-
sure from many particulars I should be vexed at y r thinking it
necessary to thank me for an affection, by which I am cer-
tainly by far the greatest gainef. At my great age, and
decrepit as I am, what could happen so fortunate to me in the
dregs of life as to meet with you and your daughters, those very
pretty young women, universally admired, and all the more
for their virtues, sweet tempers, knowledge, and such funds of
good sense, as makes them company for the most sensible of
both sexes, as you constantly have seen. Was not this an
acquisition to value as I do, when you allowed me to enjoy so
much of y r society ? Indeed, I sometimes reproach myself, and
* A pamphlet entitled l Observations on the Right Honourable Edmund
Burke on the Revolution in France,' in a letter to Earl Stanhope, was
attributed to Mrs. Macaulay.
t Anna Lsetitia Barbauld wrote some political pamphlets.
1790] LETTER TO ME. BERRY. 269
say, Did nob I engross too much of their time, and may not my
blind self-love have contributed to deprive me of that blessing ?
Yes, I know it was unreasonable, and may never be so happy
again ! Can I at past 73 depend on a year's life? I am not so
vainly sanguine. Nay, can I be so unjust as to wish to shorten
their stay in a country to which they are so partial ? Yet
human nature, tho' worn out, cannot with all its reason, philoso-
phy, and what is much stronger in me, friendship, put itself so
entirely out of the question, as to eradicate every hope, that
they may have a wish to return home ; tho' you alarm me, S r ,
when you speak hypothetically of being in England by the
annual period of y r setting out should there be an If in the case,
I doubt there will be no If for me. Forgive my returning y r
favour by this melancholy strain. I am too weak to command
myself, and the best advice I can give to y r daughters is to
gratify their own, and so reasonable, inclinations, and ascribe
my grief to what I should think myself and would allow to
be dotage, if there were one spark of ridiculous love in my
affection for y r daughters, and which is equal for both. I am
most happy in the accounts you and they give of their health
and looks.
On reading what I have been writing, I perceive I had omitted
half my words. In fact your letter arrived at nine to-night,
and affected me so much that I began to answer it the instant I
had read it, and have written in great precipitation. I will
now turn to subjects less interesting, as indeed to me almost all
other subjects are. I will only first say, that I know y r daugh-
ters have friendships in Swisserland that may detain them ; but
on that point I most assuredly prefer your safeties to the whole
mass of my personalities,, and implore again and again that you
will cross to Flanders, and avoid fatal France.
The Duchess of Argyle died the day before yesterday. She
had kept her bed for some days.
Poor Lady Douglas has been twice thought out of danger,
but is relapsed and in extreme danger. This would make ano-
ther gap in my society: she is very sensible and amiable.
Thursday, 23rd.
My head was so confused last night, and I have made so
many interlineations, that I can scarce read it myself if you
cannot, you will have no loss.
<J70 LETTERS. [1790
When I went to bed, the wind was very high, yet I got to
sleep. At half an hour after four I was waked by such vollies
of thunder, lightening, hdil, and then a torrent of rain, as I be-
lieve was never known in this temperate clime two days before
Christmas. I thought my little castle would be crushed under
the bombardment. The lightening darted down the chimney,
thro' the crevices of the shutters and the linen curtains of my
bed. Some of my servants and others of the village got off
their beds yet I find no mischief done here, nor yet anywhere
else ; and with this no accident I must supply part of my letter
for want of more important news. The debates in Parliament on
the Spanish Peace and the new taxes have produced some long
days, but less heat than ever, and hitherto most decided majori-
ties. About Hastings's trial they are more puzzled than angry.
I propose settling in town the beginning of next week, and
after the holidays shall probably be less sterile.
Give me leave to finish with an observation, that for three,
not new, travellers, you seem not to chuse the most judicious
months for your journeys : the coldest and the hottest can not
both be the most suitable. You went to Florence in November,
and propose setting out for Swisserland towards the middle of
June surely May would be preferable!
Adieu ! dear S r . I shall always be happy to hear from you,
if without thanks. Y r daughters seem to write too much for
their delicate breasts why not take it by turns ?
Y rs most cordially,
H. W.
Letters from Mrs. Darner, from Lisbon.
Nov. 21, 1790.
. . . You cannot form to yourself any idea of the Portu-
guese, their indolence or indifference ; neither money nor en-
treaty will bring them ; till it may suit their own particular con-
venience, there is no getting even the commonest workman near
you. .When I came I found two panes of glass broken, and for
five days, tho' the master of the house and my own servants
went twenty times a day after the people, I could not have
them put in. I can divest myself with all distresses of this sort
except cold ones. ... I dined at our Minister's last Thurs-
day with I know not how many English, of that sort no foreign
1790] LETTEE FROM MRS. DAMER. 271
town is free from, fat vulgar women, and scowling unknown
men, consuls, and some of the Factory. In the evening we had
the French Ambassadress (Madame de Chalons), and all the
Corps Diplomatique. ... I should like to see something
of the Portuguese, which is not easy for foreigners.
Mr. Walpole * is to carry me to a grand fete at a Portuguese
house, given on the marriage of a great heiress, who has mar-
ried her uncle, as she could find no one great enough to marry
out of her own family.
Lisbon, Dec. 2, 1790.
. . . . Nothing can be more civil and attentive than the
people in general are to me here ; Mr. Walpole, our Minister,
in particular, and his wife. . . . But going out at Lisbon is
really an operation. . . . There are in general only two-
wheeled chaises, open before, with leathern curtains that draw :
you set out as if you went on a journey, and go nodding along
over the worst pavement commonly, or the worst road, and up
and down the very steep hills on which this town stands ; yet
these chaises are actually the vehicle best calculated for this
town, and far from unpleasant when one is not obliged to be
much dressed ; but you may guess how it is when you are to
scramble up into such a carriage in rainy weather with a gauze
petticoat and a dressed head. A four-wheeled carriage is so un-
easy ; it is, I think, scarcely bearable. These are used (but not
without four mules) by ministers and great persons, and here
and there a foreigner ; but there is no such thing to be hired
unless by chance. My own coach, were it here, might be drawn
up the hills by six mules ; but could never be kept back by
two, such as they have for the town. You will imagine that all
this diverts more than it disturbs me : I make, however, my
necessary visits. On Monday in the evening Mrs. , wife
of one of the Factory, sees company ; on Wednesday, a Portu-
guese house, the Marquis D'Abrantes, is open ; on Thursday,
.Mrs. Walpole's; on Friday, the long room (an assembly and
ball); on Saturday, the French Ambassadress; and on Sunday,
the opera and a Portuguese play, if one chooses to go : omnia
habes, except some dinners. The hours are early ; sometimes
they begin to make visits at five o'clock, and everything ends
at latest, unless it be some fete, by eleven.
* English Minister at Lisbon.
272 LETTERS.
The weather was soft this morning, and I went in my chaise
to see an acqueduct some way off, yet close to this straggling
town on one side ; but here you have a corn-field, an orange-
garden, a church, and then a house, just as it happens, all jum-
bled in the oddest queerest manner that I ever yet saw. The
acqueduct may be called magnificent ; but the arches are, I
think, too close, the height in one part immense, it looks rather
thin and poor than light . . . the place is wild and rocky,
with some gardens of orange trees, now ripening, and some olive
trees. I do not love comparisons ; but there is no seeing this
place without thinking of the Pont du Grard, and sadly indeed
it loses by such a comparison, though the one is in all its glory,
and the other but a ruin.
To Miss Berry, Pisa.
Lisbon, Wednesday, Dec. 8, 1790.
I went yesterday to a concert and ball given by the Due de
Cadaval ... I am glad to pass this evening at home and
in my cabinet, of which I wish I could give you a complete
idea : It is very small, whitewashed, and a sort of farmhouse
chimney occupies one-half of it, high, and formed with large
rough stones, some shelves, two tables, &c., many chairs ; here
I have my books and my writing, and my ideas are not at least
outwardly frozen. . . . Their substitutes for fires are large
cloaks, of the form you see at Florence, which they wear very
gracefully men and women. They are eternally wrapped up
in them, riding, walking, hanging over a balcony when the sun
shines, or sitting at home in a state of idleness, a state to which
they seem to have a great propensity, by what I hear and
by the little I have seen. . . . It is very lately that even
the nobility, any part of it, have quitted these and other good
customs. To this day the ladies of the vieille cour plump down
on the floor and sit with their legs crossed without a chair in
their rooms. I do assure you that I myself at one of their as-
semblies saw a woman of the first rank, who from misfortune
did not choose to appear among the company, sitting in deep
mourning on the floor, just within the door of the next room with
the maids. I wish they had not begun to improve,, they would be
much more entertaining, tho' indeed no stranger would be likely
to be much the better for it, as part of the ceremony is to live
1791] SOCIETY AT LISBON. 273
quite shut up with their own families, and the women separately
from the men, even near relations must not go into their rooms,
nor speak to them, in strictness ; particularly a futur a young
man who imagined that he was to marry a cousin of his, whom
he had attended and followed properly, knew that the match
was broken off because one evening the lady asked him how be
did. I am telling literally what I hear, and from a person whom
I believe. The Due de Cadaval is the first nobleman of Por-
tugal and a prince of the blood, and yesterday was the first en-
tertainment that he ever gave ; but it not being the old etiquette
even for married women to go to the house of an unmarried
man, tho' two of his aunts assisted in doing the honours and
were there to receive the company, many of the starch ones
would not go, or were not suffered to go, tho' their husbands
were there dancing away and enjoying the fete. I would have
nations polish, but I wish the polish could be given to their
own national customs and manners, and not the manners of
other nations always attempted, for if manque nothing can be
worse.
Lisbon, Dec. 25, 1790.
On Thursday morning I took a second view of the acqueduct,
walked over it and under it, and one must stand under one arch
of 240 feet to have an idea of the effect ; that is, they say, the
height of the principal arch, and I fancy there is not such ano-
ther in the world. The building consists of one tier, with a
gallery on each side of where the water flows at the top. The
niches are in proportion extremely narrow, Grothic, except the
end ones, which, for what reason I know not, as it gives an ap-
pearance of patchwork, the architect has made elliptic ; but,
whatever faults the building may have, there is no seeing it in
a fine day with a bright sun without being much struck ; or, I
doubt not, with a bright moon, as you saw the Champ de Mars.
It seemed to me that I owed it this reparation d'honneur, as I
believe my first account to you was not favourable. ... I
have been learning Portuguese, and it only deserves the name of
a dialect, and to those who have learned other languages is ridi-
culously easy. I am told, too, that when I learn Portuguese, I
shall be able to read Spanish, as they all do, without learning
it. ... I cannot help thinking of poor dear Mr. W., if his
mind was tolerably at ease about you, and that he could turn it
VOL. I. T
274
LETTEES.
[1790
to any other object. What a fuss he must have been in about his
letters ! he has always a horror of his letters being seen except
by those they are intended for ; and though I dare say he took
care to put no politics in them, I should not wonder if his ima-
gination presented them to him read aloud in the Assemblee
Rationale. Still no packets, and it is an age since I have heard
from him, and my last letters from England are of above a
month. Farewell !
1791] . LETTERS. 275
LETTEKS.
1791.
Miss BERRY'S entry in her memorandum-book for this
year is 'After winter between Florence and Pisa, re-
turn home in November, take possession of little Straw-
berry Hill.'
In the month of January Mr. Walpole addressed five
letters to Miss Berry at Pisa. The three following have
not been published before.
Strawberry Hill, Jan. 2, 1791.
I doubt the letter I wrote last week to Mr. B. was both con-
fused and illegible for the latter, no matter. The truth is, I
had got the gout in my left hand ; and whenever a fit comes, I
suppose it may be my last ; and the consequence of that idea
was, the thought that I might never see you more ! I had just
been delighting myself with having settled Cliveden then came
Mr. B.'s letter, which after relating y r plan, and mentioning y r in-
tention of being at home by the period of y r setting out, talked of
a visit to Swisserland, which I dreaded w d detain you, and then
said, * all subject to correction and alteration.' Those words
went to my heart, as if threatening prolongation of y r term,
tho' perhaps meaning only the intervening time in short, I
quite despaired !
I have had the gout in my hand for above a fortnight now ;
but I have been much worse with the rheumatism, which joined
it, and still possesses that whole arm and shoulder. 1 have been
quite immoveable, but by two servants ; and this is the first
day I have been able to attempt writing to you. I have no
fevep, my appetite quite perfect, and my sleep so excellent, that
I do little else but sleep. The exact state of my case is, that I
T 2
276 LETTERS. [1791
do not recover so fast as I used to do, which is not at all sur-
prising at my age ; nor perhaps so soon as I should in town ;
but I dread a relapse; and besides, as my greatest danger
always lies in the weakness of my breast, I am safer here,
where I see nobody, and cannot be made to talk. I have written
all this in my lap without stopping, so you may be sure I am
not very bad I could not have done as much yesterday, but I
certainly am better to-day than I have been at all. Now I will
rest.
Sunday evening.
Having written enough with my own hand to convince you
that I am not very ill, I will, for ease, let Kirgate continue. I
received yours, No. 12, of December the 6 th , two days ago, a
long time coming! However, if this is as slow, you will be
pretty sure that I am well when you receive it.
I am glad you are going to Pisa ; Florence is too cold for you.
You divert me with the account of the Charming' *s brother being
a democrat: upon my word, the transition from an English
Catholic non-juror to a French leveller is Pindaric enough.
Still it does not look well for the National Assembly when their
proselytes fly the country as well as those they persecute. That
Synod has lately ordered 500,000. sterling to be issued to the
famished in the provinces. They ask for bread, and they have
given them paper. They might as well have sent the useless
clergy,
And helpt to bury those they helpt to starve.
The Duchess of Biron is returned to London, where, with her
spirit, I am sure she is better than at Paris : she was at the play
there, and a song applicable to the Queen being encored as a
compliment, and the duchess applauding with her fan on the
box, a shower of apples flew at her, and with them a penknife
that hardly missed her. She took it away with her, and the next
morning sent it to La Fayette, and desired he would lay it on
the altar of liberty, and then came away.
I have little or no English news for you. Lady Douglas, after
so many struggles, will live. It is declared that Mrs. Child is
going to marry Lord Ducie ; as they are both fifty, nobody can
have any objection, if they have not themselves. She gives him
ten thousand pounds ; they are to live on her twenty thousand
1791] WALPOLE'S GROWING INFIRMITIES. 277
pounds a year from the shop, and she reserves in her own power
70,000^. that she has saved ; my lord laying up his own estate
for his two sons.
Monday, 3rd.
I chuse to finish with my own hand, that you may not think
me worse: indeed I am better, but the amendment is very slow;
but the swelling of my left hand remains, and the elbow and
shoulder are still lame. This is the whole truth.
Lady Mt. Edgcumbe and Mad. de la Villebague have been
here from Eichmond this morning, and says Mrs. Siddons has
suffered so much by her late exertions that she has relapsed,
and they think must quit the stage. They told me nothing
else, and so I will conclude. My next week's letter will I trust
be more satisfactory. Adieu !
Strawberry Hill, Sunday, Jan. 9, 1791.
I am unfortunate, for when I want most to satisfy you by
writing with my own hand, I am least able to do so comfortably,
for the rheumatism is got into my right elbow too y and nothing
can be more awkward than my writing at all. You may be
assured now, that tho' my disorder began with a little gout, it is
a decided rheumatism, which I think much worse, as it is not so
sure of quitting its hold. My best prospect is being carried to
town, but I do not think I could yet bear a carriage. All I
have done yet is to walk with a little help from the red bed-
chamber to the blue room that is, down three steps ; and that
journey contains my daily and whole history.
Now I have satisfied you that my handwriting is alive, it
shall act by proxy ; but it will not be like a King that says a few
words, and then tells the assembly that his Chancellor will
deliver the rest ; now it happens that Chancellor Kirgate has
nothing to deliver, for he nor his Majesty know a word of
news.
I am glad you are pleased with your lodgings at Pisa, and
think you shall like the company. It is a novelty to me that
you have put up some learned men there ; Mr. Pinkerton, who
is of no great authority with you, has often talked to me of the
mighty science and learning of the Italians. They may live at
Pisa for what I know ; Mr. Parsons was out of luck to live so
278 LETTERS. [1791
long at Florence, and be forced to go to search for the wise men
in Germany. I shall rest at present, and finish this to-morrow
evening.
Monday, 10th.
I try to write a little myself, and you see I can, but it shall
be only to tell you my exact case, in which I have not deceived
you. It is most clearly rheumatism, all over my left hand, arm,
and shoulder, which I do not find mend at all, and for the last two
nights the right elbow has been bad too. I rise every day and
sit in the blue room till eleven at night ; but the weather is
most unfortunate for me, either tempests or rains the meadows
quite overflowed. I will undoubtedly be carried to town the
moment it is possible.
I hope I shall be able to give you a better account next
week ; and that shows my confidence that you will be wishing
for a better account, I mean, all Three. Adieu, all Three !
Berkeley Square, Jan. 15, 1791.
If I had not promised to write again this post, I should have
been disinclined to it, for I cannot give you a better account of
myself. The first amendment I perceived was on Tuesday
morning last, and I really thought the worst over, but after
dinner the gout came into my right hand, and has taken pos-
session of that whole arm too, while the left hand and arm are
so very little better that I have scarce any use from either. In
this most uncomfortable state I did determine to come to town,
and here I actually arrived yesterday : I bore the journey very
well, and had a better night after it than I had had for some time;
so that probably the warmth of London has contributed a little
already, and may in time do more. You see I do not make the
case better than it is danger there is none but the case of the
sufferer is not much mitigated by that consideration.
Sunday, 16th.
Tho' I have had a good night, my journal does not yet
improve ; not one of my limbs mends, and I have the additional
dread of the gout coming into one of my knees. In this
deplorable state you may imagine I scarce see anybody, nor can
have anything almost to talk of but my suffering helpless self.
It is vexatious to give you such an account, but I am sure you
1791] WALPOLE'S GROWING INFIRMITIES. 279
had rather receive this true than a fictitious one ; besides, you
may reasonably conclude that by the time you receive this letter
there may be some considerable amendment in me.
Yesterday I received your No. 14, of the 22nd of last month,
with an account of your Pisan life and acquaintance; just what
I wanted to know, yet you call it a dull detail : think, then,
what I send you in return, the journal of a sick room ! Thank
you for the memoirs of the Grrifonis, and for Miss Agnes's horse.
Now I will bate a little.
Sunday evening.
I do think I begin to use a finger or two of my left hand,
which is a great event in this room, as I admit no others. The
Edgcumbes and Johnstones, and a few more have called here
this morning, but I could not see them. Lady Mary and Mr.
Churchill are almost the only persons I do receive, and
Jerningham I have seen once. The town, they say, is quite
empty, but probably will be fuller by Tuesday, for the Queen's
birthday. I shall leave a little of my paper for my progress to-
morrow, if I make any : this bulletin is long enough already.
Monday, 17th.
I am reduced to make bonfires for negatives ; the gout is not
come into my knee, and I must rejoice that I have no other
matter of triumph, as I have not recovered one joint in either
arm or hand ; so I will finish this letter, as I shall have certainly
nothing better to tell you by this post. Adieu !
Tuesday morning, 18th.
I just add one line before this goes to the post to say that I
have had another very good night, and yet, alas ! I do not find
any amendment ; what time may do I do not know.
[Berkeley Square, Sat., Jan. 22, 1791.
I have been most unwillingly forced to send you such bad ac-
counts of myself by my two last letters, but as I could not conceal
all, it was best to tell you the whole truth. Tho' I did not know
that there was any real danger, I could not be so blind to my
own age and weakness, as not to think that with so much gout
and fever the conclusion might very probably be fatal, and
therefore it was better you should be prepared for what might
happen. The danger appears to be entirely over ; there seems
280 LETTERS. [1791
no more gout to come ; I have no fever, have a very good
appetite, and sleep well. Mr. Watson,* who is all tenderness
and attention, is persuaded to-day that I shall recover the use
of my left hand,, of which I despaired much more than of
the right, as having been seized three weeks earlier. Emaciated
and altered I am incredibly, as you would find were you ever
to see me again. But this illness has dispelled all visions !
And as I have so little prospect of passing another happy
autumn, I must wean myself from whatever would embitter my
remaining time by disappointments.
Your No. 15 came two days ago, and gives me the pleasure
of knowing that you both are the better for riding, which I hope
you will continue. I am glad, too, that you are pleased with
your Duchess of Fleury and your Latin Professor ; but I own,
except your climate and the 600 camels, you seem to me
to have met with no treasure which you might not have found
here without going twenty miles ; and even the camels, accord-
ing to Soame Jenyns's spelling, were to be had from Carrick
and other places.
I doubt you apply Tully de Amicitia too favourably at least,
I fear, there is no paragraph that countenances 73 and 27.]
I wonder you have not heard oftener from Lisbon. She
(Mrs. Darner) seems perfectly well, and to have settled her
return, which is to be thro' Spain: after the 20th of February
our letters are to be directed to Madrid. She is in great distress,
and I heartily pity her, about Fidele,f which seems dying.
[Monday, 24th.
I think I shall give you pleasure by telling you that I am
very sure now of recovering from the present tit. It has almost
always happened to me, in my considerable fits of the gout,
to have one critical night that celebrates its departure : at the
end of two different fits I each time slept eleven hours :
Morpheus is not quite so young nor so generous now, but with
the interruption of a few minutes, he presented me with eight
hours last night, and thence I shall date my recovery.
I shall now begin to let in a little company, and as the
* His surgeon.
t Mrs. Darner's dog ; it died at Lisbon.
1791] WALPOLE'S LONGING FOR THE BERRYS' RETURN. 281
Parliament will meet in a week, my letters will probably not be
so dull as they have been, nor shall I have occasion, nor be
obliged to talk so much of myself, of which I am sure others
must be tired, when I am so much tired myself.
Tuesday, 25th.
I have had another good night, and clearly do mend. I even
hope that in a fortnight I shall be able to write a few lines with
my own hand.
[Old Mrs. French * is dead at last ; and I am on the point of
losing, or have lost, my oldest acquaintance and friend, Greorge
Selwyn, who was yesterday at the extremity. These misfortunes,
tho' they can be so but for a short time, are very sensible to the
old ; but him I really loved, not only for his infinite wit, but for
a thousand good qualities.
The (runnings are still playing the fool, and perhaps some-
body with them, but I cannot tell you the particulars now.
Adieu !]
Mr. Walpole's letter of January 22 is in his secretary's
(Kirgate's) handwriting.
In his letter of the 29th to the Miss Berrys, he writes,
confirming the account of his recovery, and in tolerably
cheerful spirits ; but far other was the tone of the next
letter, dated February 4, and which begins with this
melancholy sentence :
[Last post I sent you as cheerful a letter as I could, to convince
you I was recovering. This will be less gay, because I have much
more pain in my mind than in my limbs. I see and thank you
for all the kindness of your intention ; but as it has the contrary
effect from what you expect, I am forced for my own peace to
beseech you not to continue a manoeuvre that only tantalises
and wounds me. In your last you put together many friendly
words to give me hopes of your return ; but can I be so blind as
not to see that they are vague words ? Did you mean to return
in autumn, would you not say so? Would the most artful
* An Irish lady who, during the latter part of her life, had a country
house at Hampton Court. M.S.
282 LETTERS. [1791
arrangement of words be so kind as those few simple ones ? In
fact I\ave for some time seen how little you mean it, and for
your sakes, I cease to desire it.]
This sudden burst of wounded and irritable feeling
was in consequence of Mrs. Darner having written him
word that he must not expect the Miss Berrys' return till
the following spring. The rest of the letter is in the same
strain, and must have been at once painful and gratifying
to them to receive, as, even in the bitter and somewhat
unreasonable expression of his disappointment at their
prolonged absence, they could not fail to see in every
line of his reproachful regret how necessary their presence
was to his comfort and happiness.
In his letter of February 12, he thus declines their offer
of shortening their tour :
[Berkeley Square, Feb. 12, 1791.
I have received y r two letters of Jan. 17 th and 27 th , with an
account of your objects and plans, and the latter are very much
what I expected, as before you receive this, you will have seen
by my last, No. 18. Indeed, you most kindly offer to break so
far into y r plan as to return at the beginning of next winter ;
but as that would, as you say, not only be a sacrifice, but risk
y r healths, can anything upon earth be more impossible than for
me to accept or consent to such a sacrifice ? Were I even
in love with one of you, could I agree to it ? and being only a
most zealous friend, do you think I will hear of it ? Should
I be a friend at all, if I wished you, for my sake, to travel in
winter over mountains, or risk the storms at sea, that I have not
forgotten when you went away ? Can I desire you to derange a
reasonable plan of economy, that would put you quite at your
ease at y r return ? Have I any pretensions for expecting, still
less for asking, such or any sacrifices ? Have I interested my-
self in y r affairs only to embarrass them ?]
The only point on which I can make a shadow of complaint,
is y r talking of what I did to assist y r going, as a reason for y r
wishing to stay longer abroad; that would be hard indeed
1791] WALPOLE'S GROWING INFIRMITIES. 283
on me, and would be punishing me severely for doing you
a trifling service ! But when you have other and substantial
reasons for not returning before spring twelvemonth, it is useless
to talk on the other.
[I do in the most positive and solemn manner refuse to accept
the smallest sacrifice of any part of y r plan (but the single point
that would be so hard upon me). I will say not a word more
on y r return, and beg y r pardon for having been so selfish as to
desire it. My only request now is that we may say no more
about it. I am grieved that the great distance we are at must
make me still receive letters about it for some weeks. I shall
not forget how very unreasonable I have been myself, nor shall
I try to forget it, lest I should be so silly again ; but I earnestly
desire to be totally silent on a subject that I have totally aban-
doned, and which it is not at all improbable I may never have
occasion to renew.]
Y r other letter talks as kindly as possible on my illness, on
which I am sure I have not deceived you, tho' I have talked too
much on it ; and on which, to satisfy you, I will still be particu-
lar. A fortnight ago I had every reason to think myself quite
recovering, but in my left hand ; then my pains returned for a
week : they are again gone but in my left wrist, which to-day is
uneasy enough. One comfort, however, I have, which is the
conviction that all my pains have been and are gouty, not
rheumatic, which I dread much more as less likely to leave me.
The moment I lie down in bed, I go to sleep, and often sleep
five, nay, seven hours together without waking. But there lies
my whole strength. A lover, especially one of 73, would not
give you these details. But, tho' I have been unreasonable,
and I suspect vain, I am not ridiculous. Let us pass to better,
that is, to any other subjects.
Miss Foldson is a prodigy of dishonest impertinence. I sent
her word a week ago, by Kirgate, that I was glad she had so
much employment, but wished she w d recollect that y r pictures
had been paid for these four months. She was such a fool as to
take the compliment seriously, and to thank me for it, but ver-
bally, and I have heard no more ; so I suppose she thinks me
as drunk with her honours as she is. I shall undeceive her, by
sending for the pictures again, and telling her I can get twenty
284 LETTERS. [1791
persons to finish them as well as she can ; and so they could the
likenesses, and, I doubt, better. What glories have befallen
Mrs. Buller I know not, but I have not heard a word more of
her!
[The flirts towards anarchy here have no effect at all. Home
Tooke before Christmas presented a saucy libel to the House of
Commons as a petition on his election. The House contemp-
tuously voted it only frivolous and vexatious, and disappointed
him of a ray of martyrdom ; but his fees, &c., will cost him
three or four hundred p ds , which never go into a mob's calcula-
tion of the ingredients of martyrdom.]
I believe I am rather worse than I know (and yet you need
not be alarmed), for some of my relations, who never troubled
themselves much about me, grow very attentive, and send me
game and sweetmeats, which rather do me good, for they make
me smile ; and tho' this fit may be going, they are sure I can-
not grow younger.
[Monday morning, 14th.
I have a story to tell you much too long to add to this, which
I will send next post, unless I have leisure enough to-day from
people that call on me to finish it to-day (having begun it last
night), and in that case I will direct it to Miss Agnes.]
Tuesday.
I have finished my narrative, and it goes to-night with this.
I have been without pain these two days. Adieu !
In his letter of the 13th, he gives the Miss Berrys a
playful narrative of what he terms the ' Gunninghiad,' a
confused and mysterious piece of gossip in which Mr.
Walpole was much interested, and which related to a re-
ported marriage of Miss Gunning* and Lord Blandford.
He also adds a better account of his health.
In his letter to the two sisters, dated February 20,
he tells Miss Berry that
[O'Hara is come to town, and you will love him better than
Daughter of General Gunning, son of John Gunning, Esq., of Castle
Combe, Co. Koscommon, and brother of the beautiful Miss Gunning.
1791] AN ANECDOTE. 285
ever ; he persuaded the captain of the ship, whom you will love
for being persuaded, to stop at Lisbon that he might see Mrs.
Darner. O'Hara has been shockingly treated.]
In his letter of the 28th, lie says
[I wish in No. 20 you had not again named October or
November. I have quite given up those months, and am vexed
I ever pressed for them, as they would break into your reason-
able plans, for which I abandon any foolish ones of my own.
But I am a poor philosopher, or rather am like all philosophers,
have no presence of mind, and must study my part before I
can act it. I have now settled myself not to expect you this
year ; do not unsettle me ; I dread a disappointment as I do a
relapse of the gout, and therefore cut this article short, that I
may not indulge vain hopes.]
On the 5th of March he writes in his more usual
tone :
[Berkeley Square, March 5, 1791.
One may live in a vast capital, and know no more of three
parts of it than of Carthage. When I was at Florence, I have
surprised some Florentines by telling them that London was
built like their city (where you often cross the bridges several
times in a day) on each side of the river, and yet that I had
never been but on one side, for then I had never been in
Southwark. When I was very young, and in the height of
the opposition to my father, my mother wanted a large 'parcel
of bugles, for what use I forget. As they were then out of
fashion, she could get none. At last she was told of a quantity
in a little shop in an obscure alley in the City : we drove
thither, found a great stock ; she bought it, and bad the pro-
prietor send it home. He said, 'Whither?' 'To S r Eobert
Wai pole's.' He asked coolly, < Who is S r Robert Walpole ?'
This is very like Cambridge, who tells you three stories to
make you understand a fourth.]
Grood Hannah More is labouring to amend our religion, and
has just published a book called ( An Estimate of the Religion of
the Fashionable World.' It is prettily written, but her enthu-
siasm increases ; and when she comes to town, I shall tell her
286 LETTERS. [1791
that if she preaches to people of fashion, she will be a bishop
in part thus infidelium.
Lady Cecilia's disorder has literally terminated in the gout
in her foot. I called on her this evening, but as she was in her
bedchamber up two pair of stairs, my gout would not let me be
so clamberaceous ; and indeed, she sent Miss Johnstone down
to the coach to me to desire I would not attempt it, I think,
if the remedy is not as bad, that the gout may relieve her
headachs.
[(rood night ! I have two days to wait for a letter that I may
answer. Stay! I should tell you that I have been at S r Joseph
Banks's literary saturnalia, where was a Parisian watchmaker,
who produced the smallest automaton that I suppose was ever
created. It was a rich snuffbox, not too large for a woman.
On opening the lid, an enamelled bird started up, sat on the
rim, turned round, fluttered its wings, and piped in a delight-
ful tone the notes of different birds, particularly the jug, jug
of the nightingale. It is the prettiest plaything you ever saw
the price tempting only five hundred pd 8 . That economist
the P. of W. could not resist it, and has bought one of those
dickybirds. If the maker finds such customers, he will not end
like one of his profession here, who made the serpent in
' Orpheus and Eurydice,'* and who fell so deeply in love with his
own works, that he did nothing afterwards but make serpents
of all sorts and sizes, till he was ruined and broke.]
'it is six o'clock of Monday evening the 7th, and no letters
from Pisa ; but I will not seal this till to-morrow noon, in hopes
otherwise I have not a tittle to add, but that Lady Mary
Palk is dead in childbed : I think I have heard you mention
her, or I should not, for I did not know her.
The Mesdames are said to be safely out of France, after being
stopped 3 times. There have been great mobs at the Luxem-
bourg and the Tuileries, and La Fayette is said rather to have
acted the royalist. The provinces grow turbulent, but you must
hear French news sooner and more authentically than I do. Of
the Gunning not a word since my last ; nor of Mrs. Buller, tho'
I have called on her ; nor of the righteous Miss Foldson.
[The Lord Mayor did not fetch Mad. du Barry in the city-
* A celebrated opera.
1791] KETUKtf OF THE GOUT. 287
royal coach, but kept her to dinner. She is gone, but re-
turns in April.*
Tuesday morning-.
I find y r No. 21 on my table, but as it only talks of y r life at
Pisa, and of the community of apartments, which appears as
bad as Buxton or Harrowgate, I have nothing to add but to
wonder how any one can seek such an uncomfortable life a
second time. Adieu !
P.S. I should not wonder if Italians flock hither, for Car-
navali the exhibitor of the Fantoccini, has got one of the
20,OOOL in the lottery but had, unluckily for him, sold two-
thirds of it.
On the llth, the 13th, and 14th, included in one letter,
Mr. W. writes as follows :
Berkeley Square, March 11, 1791.
I usually begin my letters to you on Fridays, but to-day for
a different reason, not because I have anything to say, but like
the French lady to her husband, because I have nothing to do.
In short, I have got a little codicil to my gout. It returned
into my ankle on Monday and Tuesday, left it on Wednesday,
and yesterday came into my knee. I have no pain, unless I
attempt to walk; so have been forced just now to send an
excuse to Lady Louisa Macdonald,f where I was to have been
to-night and so must amuse myself en famille.
The Gunnings continue to supply me with matter. As it
is now known that two of the Minifry have been mad, I should
conclude the mother and daughter were so, if two persons could
lose their senses at the same period, and on the same subject.
Well, these two outpensioners of Bedlam have sent a new narra-
tive to the Duke of Marlborough, wherein the infanta maintains
to his grace's face, that she passed three days with him and the
D ss this summer at Sion, tho' it was but three hours; and cites
a kind speech of his to her, for the truth of which she appeals
to S r John Eiddel, who was present and heard it. The duke
doubting his own eyes or memory, questions S r John, who,
* She never returned, but perished on the guillotine.
t Daughter to Earl Gower, and sister to the first Duke of Sutherland.
288 LETTERS. [1791
equally amazed, says, < Y r grace knows I had not the honour of
being with you at Sion when Miss Gunning was there.' All
this Is a new style of romancing, and tho' I repeat it, I can
scarce believe it while I repeat it.
The letter to the Duke of Argyll is to appear next week.
Somebody has sent a proof of the frontispiece to the Duke, who
showed it to Gen. Conway, as Lord Lorn has to Mrs. Anderson.
There is a medallion of Guanilda supported by two Cupids, not
marquisses, her name, and 4 verses beneath. The D ss of Bed-
ford has written to Lord Lorn, begging him to intercede for his
cousin, for the sake of his dear mother * who doated on her, and
which dear mother she, D" Gertrude, introduced into the world.
If Pisa or Florence produce more diversion than London, you
have but to say so.
The Haymarket Theatre opened last night with an opera
gratis. It is computed that four thousand persons accepted
the favour, and the theatre is allowed to be the most splendid
and convenient, let Naples say what it will ; the singers very
indifferent ; the dancers ( Vestris and Hilsberg) and the dances
charming. Still it is probable there will be no more represen-
tations, for people cannot get much by giving operas for nothing.
I have got a solution of Miss Foldson : she has a mother
and eight brothers and sisters, who make her work incessantly
to maintain them, and who reckon it loss of time to them if she
finishes any pictures that are paid for beforehand. That, how-
ever, is so very uncommon that I should not think the family
would be much the richer. I do know that L d Carlisle paid
for the portraits of his children last July, and cannot get them
from her ; at that rate I may see you before your pictures !
I have not so clear an exposition of Mrs. Buller's behaviour,
yet some suspicion. She is grown extremely Germanized and
of whom did I hear extremely intimate in a private party at her
house a few nights ago, but one who lives in the street directly
behind hers,f and whom I should be as sorry to meet there
or anywhere, as he could be to meet me. These Germans remind
* Elizabeth Gunning, first married in 1752 to the Duke of Hamilton,
and then, in 1759, to John, Duke of Argyll.
t He means William Henry, Duke of Gloucester, brother to George III.,
who had married his (Mr. Walpole's) niece, the Countess Dowager of
Waldegrave.
1791] ' OX BITS ' OF THE DAY. 289
me that I saw in to-day's newspaper, that the wife of the
Margrave of Anspach is dead. Courage, Milady Craven! donnez-
nous une nouvelle edition des aventures de Madame la Duchesse
de Kingston ! et depechez-vous ; car on dit que Milord Craven
se meurt. II seroit indigne de vous que d'attendre la main
gauche, et un mariage estime legitime.
Lady Beaumont * called on me two days ago, and inquired
after you kindly. The rest of my letter must depend on one
from you, or on the town and the Gunnings. There is published
a grub print not void of humour, called the New Art of Gunning ;
Miss, astride a cannon, is firing a volley of forged letters at the
Castle of Blenheim, and old Gertrude, emaciated and withered,
and very like, lifting up her hoop to shelter injured innocence,
as she calls her.
Sunday, 13th.
Yesterday I had the misfortune of hearing of the death of
my oldest remaining friend, Lord Stratford, f whom I knew from
the time he was twelve years old, and who was invariably kind
and obliging to me. This is the heavy tax one pays for living
long ! but as it is not a language necessary to be talked to y r
time of life, I shall keep my moralising for my own use, and
collect for yours only what will amuse you ; tho' as I gather
from hearsay, I must often send you false reports : still I take
care they should only be on trifles of no consequence. Thus I
told you old French had funded her legacies on her collection ;
but luckily for her legatees she had money enough in the stocks
to discharge the 6,000. : or her bequests would have fallen
wofully short. Three or four years ago, she had wanted to sell
her pictures to the Czarina for 1,200. a year, estimating her
own life, she said, but at two years' purchase. Well, her pictures,
with the addition of her bronzes, china, &c., were sold by auction
yesterday and Friday, and produced but 978. ; and yet the
pictures went for more than they were worth.
Monday, 14th.
Your No. 23 d , which I received this morning at breakfast,
whets no reply, being merely carnivalesque ; but you are going
* Mary Willes, the wife of the late Sir George Beaumont.
t The last Earl of Strafford of the family of Wentworth.
VOL. I. U
990 LETTERS. [1791
to more royal festivities at Florence with their Neapolitan
and Tuscan majesties and dukedoms.
The Great Turk at Petersburg has sent us rather a de haut en
bas answer to our proposal of mediating to hinder her removing
to Constantinople ; we have frowned at the rate of eighteen men
O f war _ s till, keeping up our dignity costs us so dear, that I
hope we shall let her go to the Black Sea and be d d !
Mesdames de Biron and Cambis have taken houses on Eich-
mond Grreen as well as Les Boufflers and Mad. de Poncherolles,
so it will be petty France. Such swarms of Franks have left
the country, that I wonder the National Assembly, which
delights in wasting time on reviving old names, do not call their
sovereign king of Gaul instead of king of the French. On the
contrary, Mesdames Adelaide and Victoire, formidable as the
latter name is, will not put the Romans much in mind of their
precursor Brennus.
I have cancelled my codicil of gout, and shall issue forth again
this evening, and perhaps at the end of the week go to Straw-
berry for a day or two, as the weather lately has been uncom-
monly fine. Adieu !
On the 19th and 21st of March he writes a most
touching letter, in acknowledgment of that he had re-
ceived from Miss Berry in answer to his.
[Strawberry Hill, Saturday, March 19, 1791.
The town lies fallow not an incident worth repeating as far
as I know. Parliament manufactures only bills, not politics. I
never understood anything usefull, and now that my time and
connections are shrunk to so narrow a compass, what business
have I with business ? As I have mended considerably for the
last four days, and as we have had a fortnight of soft warm
weather, and a south-west wind to-day, I have ventured hither
for change of air, and to give orders about some repairs at
Cliveden, which, by the way, Mr. H. Bunbury two days ago
proposed to take off my hands for his life. I really do not
think I accepted his offer. I shall return to town on Monday,
and hope to find a letter to answer, or what will this do ?]
Apropos, as the town stands stock still, I believe I shall
change my post days from Tuesdays to Fridays at least when
1791] WALPOLE'S IMPROVED STATE OF HEALTH. 291
I am as barren as at this moment. However, when you do
not hear from me by the former, be assured you will wait but
four days longer ; besides as I shall now be frequently coming
hither, I may have more to say at the end of the week than
at the beginning 1 .
I met Mrs. Bliller t'other night at Lady M* Edgcumbe's, and
she lays all her omissions on the 'vharminc/ man, who mentioned
my message so slightly that she did not comprehend it. I
huffed her worse for her bad taste in sending for double Glo'ster
cheese in an evening, and vowed I will never enter her doors, if
smelling of it. I have a notion her son is of a regiment that
eats of it. The Greatheds are in Mrs. Darner's house. I hope
they will not be there six weeks.
[B. Sq.j Monday evening.
I am returned, and find the only letter I dreaded, and the only
one I trust that I shall ever not be impatient to receive from
you. Tho' ten thousand times kinder than I deserve, it wounds
my heart, as I find I have hurt two of the persons I love the
best upon earth, and whom I am most constantly studying to
please and serve. That I soon repented of my murmurs you
have seen by my subsequent letters. The truth, as you may
have perceived, tho' no excuse, was, that I had thought myself
dying and should never see you more ; that I was extremely
weak and low when Mrs. D.'s letter arrived, and mentioned her
supposing I should not see you till spring twelvemonth. That
terrible sentence recalled Mr. Batt's being the first to assure me
of y r going abroad, when I had concluded you had laid aside the
design. I did sincerely allow that in both instances you had
acted from tenderness in concealing y r intentions ; but as I
knew I could better bear the information from yourselves than
from others, I thought it unfriendly to let me learn from others
what interested me so deeply. Yet I do not in the least excuse
my conduct. No, I condemn it in every light, and shall never
forgive myself if you do not promise me to be guided entirely by
your own convenience and inclinations about your return.
I am perfectly well again, and just as likely to live one year
as half an one. Indulge y r pleasure in being abroad while you
are there. I am now reasonable enough to enjoy y r happiness as
my own ; and since you are most kind when I least deserve it,
U 2
292 LETTERS. [1791
how can I express my gratitude for giving up the scruple that
was so distressing to me ! Convince me you are in earnest by
giving me notice that you will write to Charing-cross while
the Neapolitans are at Florence.* I will look on that as a clearer
proof of y r forgiving my criminal letter than your return before
you like it. It is most sure that nothing is more solid or less
personal than my friendship for you two; and even my com-
plaining letter, tho' unjust and unreasonable, proved that the
nearer I thought myself to quitting the world, the more my
heart was set on my two friends. Nay, they had occupied the
busiest moments of my illness as well as the most fretful ones.
Forgive then, my dearest friends, what could proceed from
nothing but too impatient affection. You say most truly you
did not deserve my complaints. Your patience and temper
under them make me but the more in the wrong ; and to have
hurt you, who have known but too much grief, is such a contra-
diction to the whole turn of my mind ever since I knew you, that
I believe my weakness from illness was beyond even what I sus-
pected. It is sure that when I am in my perfect senses, the
whole bent of my thoughts is to promote your and y r sister's
felicity, and you know nothing can give me satisfaction like
your allowing me to be of use to you. I speak honestly, not-
withstanding my unjust letter, I had rather serve you than
see you. Here let me finish this subject ; I do not think I shall
be faulty with you again.
That ever I should give you Two an uneasy moment ! Oh !
forgive me yet I do not deserve pardon in my own eyes, and
less in my own heart.]
The next letter was as follows :
Berkeley Square, Thursday, March 31, 1791.
I postpone my further answers to y r last till I have satisfied
Mr. Berry's curiosity about the war with Semiramis. The King's
martial message was adopted on Tuesday by both Houses ; but
* His correspondents, to settle his niind as to the certainty of their
return at the time they had promised, had assured him that no financial
difficulties should stand in the way : which is what he means by sending to
Charing Cross (to Drummond, his banker). No such difficulties occurred.
The correspondence, therefore, with Charing Cross never took place. M.S.
Vide Horace Walpole's Letters.
1791] WALPOLE'S SELF-SACEIFICE. 293
the measure is exceedingly unpopular, and even some impres-
sion was made on the court troops. The ministerialists affect to
give out that matters will not ripen to war, as if our blustering
would terrify a woman in whom fear of no sort seems to predo-
minate. More this deponent knows not.
Now, my dearest friends, I turn to you, and do most cordially
implore you both not to bind yourselves nor to hold yourselves
bound to me by any promise ab 1 y r return. Let it depend en-
tirely on y r own inclinations and convenience. I cannot forgive
my sickly impatience in writing that peevish letter which vexed
you : it ha& vexed me more. Are you to be pleased only by what
would please me ? What claim have I to any sacrifice? and why
should you make me any ? or think you that I cannot sacrifice
my own wishes to y r content ? Oh ! indeed but I can, and wish
to do so ! These are my earnest sentiments, and I could but
repeat them in various words were I to continue writing all
night.
We have no other positive news since my Tuesday's letter.
There is no peace between the Opera Theatres ; the Haymarket
rather triumphs. They have opened twice,, taking money in an
evasive manner, pretending themselves concerts ; the singers are
in their own clothes, the dancers drest, and no recitative a
sort of opera in deshabille. Threats of arrest have been thrown
out, but no coup de main. Some think the return of the Judges
from the circuit is awaited ; but perhaps the Court is sensible of
having begun by being in the wrong.
I never mention France, concluding you more a portee to
know. The hideous barbarity at Douai, where they have frac-
tured a man's skull, and then taken him out of bed, and hanged
him after he had been trepanned ; while the prisons are over-
stuffed, after they found but six prisoners in the Bastile, does
not convince me yet that they have got a milder government.
How sorry I am that you. have lost the satisfaction of being
with your friend Mrs. Cholmeley in town this season. I doubt
the two courts will not make you amends.
I feel every week the disagreeableness of the distance between
us : each letter is generally three weeks on its passage, and we
receive answers to what one must often forget one has said ;
and cannot under six weeks learn what one is anxious to know.
Balloons, had they succeeded, would have prodigiously abridged
294 LETTERS. [1791
delays ; but French discoveries are not, I believe, endowed with
duration ; when they have broken necks, and cut throats, they
find the world forced to content itself with old inventions.
French society never takes disappointment into calculations.
This must be a short letter, for even London, you see, now
the Gunnings are gone, cannot furnish a whole sheet once a
week : however, I had rather leave half my paper blank than
have any campaign-work to fill it with. Europe at present is
in a strange ferment, distracted between the daemons of repub-
licanism and universal monarchy at least Prussia and we say
that Semiramis aims at the latter; if she does, we at least
might wish her removed to Constantinople : she would be farther
off. Nay, I am so ignorant to imagine, that, if there, she
would cultivate and restore Greece, &c., and be a better custo-
mer than the Turks. Nor am I disposed to think Prussia a sub-
stantial ally : it is a fictitious power that would have shrunk to
little again with its creator had the successor been an inactive
prince. Attention, treasures, and a most formidable army he has,
but if war dissipates his hoards, and diminishes his force, which
the squander of his wealth will weaken too, adieu ! panier, ven-
danges sont faites. These are my speculations ; I don't know
whether they have come into the head of anybody else, nor care
whether they deserve it. I write to amuse you and myself, and
only reason, because I have nothing better to send you. I am
far from fond of dissertationary letters, which present themselves
humbly, but hope to rank as essays. I must be in sad want of
nonsense when I talk seriously on general topics, and I hope
that, except when you were in a storm, or travelling thro' the land
of anarchy, or when I was in terror of seeing you no more, or
not for an age, you will not charge me with any gravity. I have
gossipped to anybody's heart's wish ; and the deuce is in it, if
any letters are worth receiving that have the fear of Wisdom
before their eyes. Adieu to Arno's vale till next Friday.
It was in the month of March that Miss Berry met
with an accident, which might have proved serious, and
of which she wrote the exact truth to her anxious friend,
that his imagination might not exaggerate the danger.
She had fallen down a bank in the neighbourhood of
Pisa, and received a deep cut on the nose.
1791] MISS BEREY HAS AN ACCIDENT. 295
[Strawberry Hill, Sunday night, April 3, 1791.
Oh ! what a shocking accident ! Oh ! how I detest your going
abroad more than I have done yet in my Grossest mood ! You
escaped the storm on the 10th of October that gave me such an
alarm; you passed unhurt thro' the cannibals of France and
their republic of Ladrones and Poissardes, who terrified me
sufficiently but I never expected that you would dash y r self
to pieces at Pisa ! You say I love truth, and that you have told
me the exact truth but how can fear believe ?] You say you
slept part of the night after y r fall oh ! but the other part !
Was not you feverish? How can I wait above a month for
answers to an hundred questions I want to ask; and how a
week for another letter ? A little comfort I have had even since
I received the horrid account; I have met Mrs. Lockart at
Lady Hesketh's, and she has assured me that there is a very
good surgeon at Pisa if he is, he must have bloodied you
directly. How could you be well enough to write the next
day ? Why did not Miss Agnes for you ? But I conclude she
was not recovered enough of y r fall. When I am satisfied that
you have not hurt yourself more than you own, I will indulge
my concern about the outside of y r nose, about which I shall
not have your indifference. I am not in love with you, yet
fully in love enough not to bear any damage done to that
perfect nose, or to any of all y r beautiful features ; then, too, I
shall scold at y r thoughtlessness.
[How I hate a party of pleasure ! it never turns out well ;
fools fall out, and sensible people fall down ! Still I thank
you a million of times for writing y r self ; if Miss Agnes had
written for you, I confess I should have been ten times more
alarmed than I am, and yet I am alarmed enough.] My sweet
Agnes, I feel for you too, tho' you have not the misery of being
a thousand miles from y r wounded sister, nor are waiting for
a second account. The quantity of blood she lost has, I trust,
prevented any fever. I would ask for every tiny circumstance,
but alas ! I must wait above a month for an answer.
. . . . I received the account two days sooner than the
letters generally arrive, and the day after my last was gone,
so I can have nothing to add, nor indeed, do I think of any-
thing but the fall at Pisa, of which I went full to Lady
Hesketh's last night, and there were so many of y r friends,
296 LETTEES. [1791
that my sad news seemed like having thrown a bomb into the
room. You would have been flattered at the grief it occa-
sioned ; there were Mrs. Lockart, the Pepys's, Mrs. Buller,
Lady Herries, Geo. Cambridge, the Abbe Nichols, Mrs. Carter,
and some who scarce know you, who yet found they w d be
very unfashionable if they did not join in the concern for
you and in y r panegyric. Cambridge had received a letter too,
but three days earlier in date. Mr. Pepys desired me to tell
you that he had written to you a folio of news, but you never
received it. However, I am sure I have not let you starve,
unless you are curious about suits in chancery.
[Not to torment you more with my fears when I hope you
are almost recovered, I will answer the rest of y r letter. General
O'Hara I have unluckily not met yet ; he is so dispersed, and I
am so confined in my resorts, and so seldom dine from home,
that I have not seen him even at General Conway's. When I
do, can you imagine that we shall not talk of you two ? Yes,
and y r accident I am sure will be the chief topic. As our fleets
are to dethrone Catherine Petruchict, O'Hara will probably not
be sent to Siberia.* Apropos to Catherine and Petruchio, I
supped with their representatives, Kemble and Mrs. Siddons,
t'other night at Miss Farren's ; the Hothams f were there too, and
Mrs. Anderson,! who treated the players with acting as many
characters as ever they did, particularly Gunnilda and Lady
Clackmannan. Mrs. Siddons is leaner, but looks well ; she has
* In Mr. Walpole's letter of the 27th, he says : < Mr. Pitt has notified
that lie is to deliver a message from the King, to-morrow, to the House of
Commons, on the situation of Europe I am sorry to say that
I fear it is to be a warlike one. The Autocratrix swears she will hack
her way to Constantinople through the blood of one hundred thousand
more Turks, and that we are very impertinent for sending her a card with a
sprig of olive. On the other hand, Prussia bounces and huffs, and claims
our promise of helping him to make peace by helping him to make war j
and so, in the most charitable and pacific way in the world, we are, they
say, to send twenty ships to the Baltic, and half as many to the Black
Sea.' Vide Horace Walpole's Letters.
t Sir Charles Hotham Thompson, married to Lady Dorothy Hobart,
sister of John, second Earl of Buckinghamshire. Wright.
t Mrs. Anderson, daughter of Lady Cecilia Johnstone, married to a
brother of Lord Yarborough. Wright.
A nickname given by the writer to a lady of the society. Wright.
1791] MRS. SIDDOXS DEATH OF MIRABEAU. 297
played Jane Shore and Desdemona, and is to play in 'The
G-amester;' all the parts she will act this year. Kemble, they
say, shone in Othello.
Mrs. Darner has been received at Elvas with all military
honours and a banquet, by order of Mello, formerly embassadbr
here. It was handsome in him, but must have distressed her
who is so void of ostentation and love of show.
Miss Boyle,* who, no more than Miss Pulteney,f has let her-
self be snapped up by lovers of her fortune, is going to Italy
for a year with Lord and Lady Maiden.]
I return to town to-morrow morning, with a faint hope of
receiving another letter about your fall, and will reserve the
rest of my paper for anything I may hear before noon on Tues-
day. I will not peremptorily fix my days of writing to Tuesdays
and Fridays, but write as you mend, or as I find matter ; there-
fore do not suspect gout if I am not punctual ; I am more
likely, I think, to be intercalary than remiss. This morning
has been as warm as if the day had been born at Pisa ; and
Cliveden, where -I have been giving some orders, did not look
ugly.
[B. Square, Monday, after dinner.
Mirabeau is dead aye, miraculously, for it was of a putrid
fever (that began in his heart). Dr. Price is dying also J fortu-
nate omens for those who hope to die in their beds too. I think
alike of such incendiaries, whose lessons tend to blood, whether
their stillettoes have taken place or not. That Mr. Berry, with
so much good nature and good sense, should be staggered, I do
not wonder. Nobody is more devoted to liberty than I am. It is
therefore that I abhor the National Assembly, whose outrageous
violence has given, I fear, a lasting wound to the cause; for
anarchy is despotism in the hands of thousands. A lion attacks
but when hungry or provoked ; but who can live in a desart
full of hyaenas ? Nobody but Mr. Bruce and we have only his
word for it. Here is started up another corsair, one Paine from
America, who has published an answer to Mr. Burke, that
* Miss Boyle, afterwards Lady H. Fitzgerald,
f Miss Pulteney, married to Sir James Murray.
Dr. Price died soon after.
298 LETTEKS.
deserves a putrid fever.* His doctrines go to the extremity of
levelling, and his style is so coarse, that you would think he
means to degrade the language as much as the Government.]
Monday night.
I am come home early from the Bishop of London's for the
chance of finding another letter from one of you. But ah ! you
did not know my anxiety ! March 16 th will be a blacker day in
my almanac than Oct. 10 th . I hope after nineteen days, without
reckoning the time this will be travelling to you, you w d at
this moment be capable of laughing at my alarm. Alas ! it is
no jest to me!
I learnt nothing new for you, but that Lord Strathavenf was
married this morning to Miss CopeJ not at Grretna Green, for
they have been asked in church. Adieu ! you bid me have no
more gout this year pray do you have no more falls.
The next letter shows that his mind was still agitated
on the subject of Miss Berry's fall :
Berkeley Square, April 10, 1791.
It is Sunday, but no letter ! I did hope for one yesterday, as
the preceding Saturday had brought me the miserable news of
y r fall, and this I flattered myself would make me amends by a
favorable account but Saturday I see is one of the Dies nefastos
carbone potandos, and a pupil of March 16 th . If to-morrow
brings good news, I will prefer Mondays, tho' two days later. I
have little news for you, tho' I begin writing to-day. If any-
body asks me for news, I answer, ' Yes, and very bad ; Miss
Berry has had a terrible fall, and cut her beautiful nose ! '
What novelties there are I will dispatch, for if I have not a
most prosperous account to-morrow, I shall forget anything I
have heard at present my gazette would lie in a nutshell ; and
were it not for the oddity of what happened to myself for two days
together, my intelligence would be like to the common articles
of a newspaper. On Wednesday my nephew, L d Cholmondeley,
* The first part of the < Rights of Man.'
t Afterwards Marquis of Huntley.
I Daughter of Sir Charles Cope, Bart.
.
1791] HOME NEWS. 299
came and acquainted me that he is going to be married to Lady
Charlotte Bertie, who had accepted of him ( But,' says he, ' you
will be so good as not to mention it yet, for I am now going to
the Duchess of Ancaster to ask her consent ' which she did
not refuse.
The next day Captain Waldegrave came, and almost in the
same words, the parties excepted, notified a match between his
sister, Lady Elizabeth, and Lord Cardigan, ' But you must not
mention it yet, for the Earl is only now gone into the King to
ask his leave.' I did not know I was so proper a Cato to be
trusted with love-tales. I doubt George Ch. and his new wife,
and the mothers of both are not delighted with the former
match; and Brudenel and his mother will be terribly disappointed
with the latter, after the old Earl had lain fallow so long. I
remember when he married his former wife, they both looked
so antique, that I said, they may have grandchildren, but they
certainly will have no children now it seems his lordship means
to have a great-grandson. I was to have met the mother, Mrs.
Cholmondeley, last Friday at Mrs. Buller's, but the latter turned
a very small party into a ball, and I desired to be excused, for
tho' I have married two wives at once, when many years older
than L d Cardigan, I did not chuse to jig with Master Buller's
friends the officers of the guards.
I can tell Mr. Berry nothing more of our Eussian war, but
that it is most exceedingly unpopular, and that it is supposed
Mr. Pitt will avoid it if he possibly can. You know I do not
love Catherine Petruchia Slayczar, yet I have no opinion of our
fleet dethroning her.
An odd adventure has happened. The Primate of Poland has
been here, the King's brother. He bought some scientific toys at
Merlin's, paid 15 guineas for them in the shop, and was to pay
as much more. Merlin pretends he knew him only for a
foreigner who was going away in two days, and literally had
his holy highness arrested and carried to a spunging house ; for
which the Chancellor has struck the attorney off the list. But
hear the second part. The King of Poland had desired the Pri-
mate to send him some English books, who for one sent the Law
of Arrests. The King wrote, * This is not so useless a book to
me as some might think ; for when I was in England, I was
arrested ' before the letter arrived, the Archbishop himself was
in limbo.
300 LETTERS. [1791
Monday.
Last night I was at Mr. Pepys's, where was Lady Juliana
Penn, who alarmed me exceedingly, for she had received a letter
from her son in Italy, when I had had none but this morning
I have received a comfortable one, which I hope is perfectly
true for you must forgive me, if I cannot help fearing y r kind-
ness for me softens y r accident and its consequences. You did
not sleep for some nights, your nerves were shaken. I know that
from the 25 th of March to the 11 th of April is above a fortnight,
and yet I shall think it above a fortnight to this day sevennight,
when I hope for a still better account; for tho' a little easier, I
am far from satisfied and not yet at all arrived at grieving for
a mark on y r nose, as I shall do till I actually see you, when the
joy of y r return will drown less considerations. How good you
are to reassure me on that subject ! The Abbe has come in and
distracted me with news for which I do not care a straw, nor
w d have listened to, but that you like my telling you all I hear
but what are all those marriages to me who am separated
from both my wives ? or Miss Bingham's no-marriage with
Lord Grey, for which L d Stamford has forbid the bans? or
the Marquis of Worcester's with L d Stafford's daughter, Lady
M. M. or N. N. Leveson, which is declared ? or the D ss of Kut-
land's with L d P'aget, forbidden by his father, yet to be or not
to be something. Ma d du Barry is again come, and Lady St.
Asaph died yesterday of a second miscarriage, leaving four young
children, a most fond husband, and the families on both sides
much afflicted. So much for the Abbe's Morning Herald, and
I return to y r nose and your nerves how could you write so
much, when they are not well and to be thinking of my gout,
and recommending care of myself I am perfectly recovered of
everything but your fall.
I had a letter two days ag from Mrs. Darnerthen at Grenada;
she had suffered from the snow on the mountains. Her parents
have been in town these two months, and very well. I supped
there last night with the Duchess of Richmond and Mrs. Pom-
poustown Hervey.
Your acquaintance Mrs. Horace Churchill, one of my seventy
I don't know how many nephews and nieces, has just pre-
sented me with one more of the first gender : Ma d de St. Alban
1791] WALPOLE'S ANXIETIES EESPECTING MISS BEERY, 301
gave me two of the other but perhaps might as justly have
bestowed them on somebody not so rich in nepotism.
I must have an attestation under the hand of Agnes aux joues
de rose that you have no fever left, that your nerves are re-
braced, and I will bear an oath from any rival that your nose is
as perfect as ever.
Your letter of this morning is an answer to mine of Feb. 28,
to Florence how vexatious such a distant correspondence ! If
I to-day say * How do you do ? ' it will be one or two and forty
days before you answer, ' Very well thank you.'
Monday night.
I am just come from Lady Herries, who with Mrs. Hunter
charged me to tell you how glad they are to hear you are better
of y r fall. I said you had just desired me to thank all who are
so kind as to inquire after you : I wish I could answer their
inquiries oftener !
You will, I trust, be at Florence when you receive this, but it
will be May before I know so, which is sad, as it will be a better
proof than all you can say, that your face is recovered. I shall
apply what was said to one of the sable Finches, ( Sir, if you
was to swear till you are white in the face,' &c. that is, I must
have collateral proofs, for my fears are stronger than my faith.
Adieu ! may Heaven preserve you both ! and may I have no more
days to stigmatize in my almanac!
In his letter of April 15th lie says :
[I cannot help having that nose a little upon my spirits,
though if it were flat I should love it as much as ever for the
sake of the head and heart that belong to it.]
I don't know what business you had to carry it to the mouth
of the Arno and throw it down a precipice. I go to Straw-
berry to-morrow, in this jubilee spring that comes but once in
fifty years, and shall return on Monday, trusting to be met
by a letter from Pisa, with a prosperous account of all I wot
of.
[T have seen O'Hara with his face as ruddy and black and his
teeth as white as ever, and as fond of you two, and as grieved
for your fall as anybody but I. He has got a better regi-
ment.]
302
LETTEES.
[Berkeley Square, Monday, 18.
Oh ! what a dear letter have I found 1 and from both at once,
and with such a delightful bulletin.] I have but one doubt, and
that is from the delay of going to Florence, which I hope is to
be placed only to the article of the becoming.
[I should not be pleased with the idleness of the pencil, were
it not owing to the chapter of health, which I prefer to every-
thing,] high as I hold the Death of Wolsey. The moment I
enter 'strawberry I hasten into the little parlour, which I have
new hung for his reception, with Lady DiV Gipsies* and Mrs.
Darner's Dogs.f * I defy your favourite Italy to produce three
such monuments of female genius.
The rest of this letter,, together with that of the 23rd,
is, as usual, a chronicle of all the floating news, both
political and social, he could 'collect to send them. On
the 25th of April he writes from Berkeley Square :-
Monday, in the Square.
I have found a letter from you as I expected, but there were
three pages before I found a word of y r nose. You give a good
account of it yet, as you have again deferred your journey to
Florence, tho' but for a day or two, I do not quite trust to your
deposition. Produce your nose to Kings and Emperors or I shall
not be satisfied. I know you are not eager for puppet shows ;
yet your being at a fete would convince me more than the attes-
tation of a surgeon.
You kindly desire me not to go to Strawberry for fear of
relapse but this is the case of so distant a correspondence ! I
have been there four or five times without the smallest incon-
venience : besides, it has been summer all winter. You desire
me too to continue to write punctually. I do not seem to be in
danger of relaxing at least, not before I am settled in the
country ; and then indeed I may want matter but the town
goes so late out of itself, that I dare say it will furnish me with
something or other for these two months; and then in two
months more I trust you will be on the road and then why
* Drawing by Lady Diana Beauelerc.
t Dogs sculptured by Mrs. Dainer.
1791] THE COUNTESS OF ALBANY. 303
then, in two months more I hope I shall have no occasion to
write to you ! Six months of y r absence are nearly gone, and I
am trying as much as I can to anticipate the other six !
Berkeley Square, May 4, 1791.
Tho' I have changed my post days to Fridays, as better
market days for news, the first-fruits do not answer indeed, on
Tuesday I should not have had a paragraph to send you ; and
now my articles will rather be talkables than events, for I know
not one that has happened, except the change of weather,
January having succeeded to April but what signifies how the
weather was, when you hear it three weeks afterwards ?
Nothing more is known of the Kussian War, or the new
Secretary of State, nor why the last resigned. The Duke of
York is gone to Berlin, and the press continues alert. That
looks all martial but the stocks are philosophic and keep their
temper. The Prince of Wales is much out of order, spits blood,
and fainted away after his levee on Monday.
Greneral Con way has had a great escape ; he was reviewing his
Blues on Friday, previous to their being reviewed yesterday by
the King. The ground was so slippery, for we have had much
rain, that his horse fell down and rolled over him, and he only
had his arm and leg much bruised ; yet so much bruised, that
yesterday he was forced to write to the King to excuse his
appearance, and last night he was lamer than I am.
Mrs. Darner has written that we may expect her by the 10th.
I shall allow two or three days for disappointments.
Here is arrived the Pinchbeck Queen Dowager of England,
alias the Countess of Albany.* I have not much royal curiosity
left yet I have to see her, and it will be satisfied for as she
is great niece to Lady Ailesbury, and cousin of the Duchess of
Richmond, they must visit her, and they will make some
assembly or private party for her. At present they say she is
going to see Mrs. Swinburn in Yorkshire, who it seems is the
friend of all sorts of queens.
W r e have received besides a pacquet of French Dukes, the late
i Gentilhommes de la Chambre, Richelieu, Villequier, and Duras ;
the last narrowly escaped with his life at the late violence about
* Louisa de Stolberg, married to Charles Edward Stuart, the grandson of
James II. Since the year 1745, known by the title of Comte d' Albany.
304 LETTERS. [1791
the King's journey to St. Cloud ; the first is returned to Paris
at the King's own request. The National Assembly have added
new persecution to the fugitives or to their embassadors, for-
bidding these to receive those but are the former obliged to
remain embassadors?
You will have heard that La Fayette has resumed his com-
mand; which I think an ambitious weakness, and a second
tome to Necker's return. A general, who has lost command
and authority over his troops, will not recover it for long by im-
posing an oath on them. The Parisian mob are mounted to
the highest note of the gamut of riot, and whoever plays to
them in that key, will make them caper away from their com-
mander, or lead them against him.
I am sorry to say that we have discordant people amongst us,
who are trying to strike up the same tune here. One Paine, an
American, has published the most seditious pamphlet ever seen
but in open rebellion : thousands of copies of it have been dis-
persed ; and the Kevolution-Clubs threaten farther hostilities.
We have gained the happiest constitution upon earth by many
storms ; I trust we shall not lose it by one ! nor change it for
anarchy, which always ends in despotism, which I am persuaded
will be the consequence of the intemperate proceedings in
France, and in the end will be fatal to liberty in general ; as
mankind will dread buying even reformation too dear.
Apropos (an odd apropos, but you will see it's descent), the
Countess Stanhope,* to-night inquired in the kindest and most
interested manner after you both; so did Hannah More last
night at White Pussy's^
Friday, noon, 6th.
I must finish my letter, tho' my cargo is so small ; regular
stage-coaches, you know, set out, whether full or not. I have
not sent you so short a gazette yet.
I hope to-morrow or Monday to hear that your nose has exhi-
bited itself openly at Florence ; and as certain cheeks have got
natural roses, will not the pencil resume its practice ? The
Prince of Wales is better, and in a way to recover by an erup-
tion. Adieu ! all three !
* Louisa Grenville, the grandmother of the present Earl Stanhope,
t Elizabeth Gary, wife of Lord Amherst.
1791] BOSWELL'S LIFE OF JOHNSON. 305
In Mr. Walpole's letter of May 12th* he mentions
Mrs. Darner's return to England and her arrival at her
uncle's (Lord Frederick Campbell) house, where he and
her parents were passing the evening.
In his letter, dated May 19th,* he gives an account
of the arrival of the Countess of Albany in England, and
of her presentation at court.
[I have had (says he) an exact account of the interview of
the two Queens from one who stood close to them. The Dow-
ager was announced as Princess of Stolberg. She was well
dressed, and not at all embarrassed. The King talked to her a
good deal ; but about her passage, the sea, and general topics.
The Queen in the same way but less. Then she stood between
the Dukes of Gloucester and Clarence, and had a good deal of
conversation with the former ; who perhaps may have met her
in Italy. Not a word between her and the Princesses. . . . The
Queen looked at her earnestly.]
He concludes his letter with the announcement that
Boswell had just published his long-promised Life of
Johnson, in two volumes quarto. Mr. Walpole had a
great repugnance to Dr. Johnson, and says, when alluding
to this work, in his letter of the 26th of May,* that he
would never be the least acquainted with him.
[Johnson's blind Toryism and known brutality kept me aloof;
nor did I ever exchange a syllable with him : nay, I do not
think I was in a room with him six times in my days.]
The first time, I think, was at the Koyal Academy. Sir
Joshua said, ( Let me present D r Goldsmith to you :' he did.
6 Now I will present D r Johnson to you.' ( No,' said I, 6 Sir
Joshua ; for D r Goldsmith, pass but you shall not present D r
Johnson to me.'
In Mr. Walpole's letter of June 2nd, he says :
* Published in 1846.
VOL. I. X
306 LETTERS. [1791
[Berkeley Square, June 2, 1791.
Well ! I have seen Madam D'Albany, who has not a ray of
royalty about her. She has good eyes and teeth ; but I think
can have had no more beauty than remains, except youth. She
is civil and easy, but German and ordinary. Lady Ailesbury
made a small assemblage for her on Monday, and my curiosity
was satisfied. Mr. Conway, and Lady A., L d and Lady Frederic
Campbell, and Mrs. E. Hervey, and Mrs. Hervey * breakfasted
with me that morning at Strawberry.]
I have had no letter from you since Monday se'nnight, but
as I had three almost at once, and as Mrs. Damer received one
two days ago, I am in no fright about you ; indeed I do not
like y r sitting and writing so much, which is bad for you.
All the difference now is, that I have nothing to answer ; and
having nothing to tell, this will be very brief.
[Mrs. Damer, who returned in such Spanish health, has al-
ready caught an English north-eastern cold, with pains in all her
limbs and a little fever ; and yesterday was not above two hours
out of bed. Her father came to me from her before dinner,
and left her better, and I shall go to her presently. These two
days may boldly assume the name of June without the courtesy
of England. Such weather makes me wish myself at Straw-
berry.]
Next week I must go to Doctors' Commons don't be
alarmed I have not heard a syllable against either of you ;
but a poor old gentlewoman in the country has made me her
executor and trustee for her two daughters and they need not
alarm you neither tho' somehow or other there was a connec-
tion between the families, which it is not proper to explain by
the post, and I must repair into the city to prove the will.
Some trouble I shall have, for there are disagreeable circum-
stances attending both daughters, who are not of the compos-ite
order. Well ! one must do the best one can, and make he best
of everything. It is a chequered world, and surely I have no
reason to complain of my lot in it ! a truly hard fate is that of
two of the most amiable young women in the world, punished
without a fault, and before they were capable of having a
fault, not for the fault, but for the virtues of their father ! But
justice is not only blind, as she ought to be, when sitting on the
* Elizabeth, a niece of Alderman Beckford.
1791] KING AND QUEEN OF FKANCE ARRESTED. 307
bench in her scarlet robe and furs, but when she is at home en
famille.
Friday, noon, 3rd.
I sat with Mrs. D. an hour last night, and found her much ,
mended. To-day the message is, ' much better,' and if she
proved so, she told me she woud ask y r friend Mrs. Chol'meley
to meet me there this evening. Adieu !
P.S. Hastings made his defence yesterday, but the trial is
put off till the next session, as the Parl. is to be prorogued next
week. Nothing decided about the Russian War, nor a Secretary
of State yet, but Dundas, it is said, is to be the man.
His letters of June 8th, 14th, and 23rd, already pub-
lished, are an amusing chronicle of all he hears and sees.
Strawberry Hill, June 28, 1791.
I am glad you recovered my strayed letter, because one lost
leaves a gap in a correspondence that one thinks might contain
something material, which I do not believe was the case. You
was right in concluding I should disapprove of y r visiting hos-
pitals. One ought to surmount disgust where it is one's duty,
or one can do any good, or perform an act of friendship ; but it
is a rule with me to avoid any disagreeable object or idea, where
I have not the smallest power of redress or remedy. I would
not read any of the accounts of the earthquakes in Sicily and
Calabria ; and when I catch a glimpse of a report of condemned
malefactors to the Council, I clap my finger on the paragraph,
that I may not know when they are to suffer, and have it run
in my head. It is worse to go into hospitals there is contagion
into the bargain. I have heard of a French princess, who had
a taste for such sights, and once said, ( II faut avouer, que j'ai
vu aujourd'hui une agonie magnifique.' Your tender nature is
not made for such spectacles ; and why attrist it, without doing
any service ? One needs not recur to the index of the book of
creation to hunt for miserable sufferers. What would I give not
o
to have heard the calamities fallen on the heads of the King and
Queen of France ! I know no more yet than of their being
betrayed and stopped at Clermont, and ordered back to Paris,
with their children ! What superabundance of woe ! To expect
insult, ignominy, a prison, perhaps separation or death, without
x 2
308 LETTERS. [1791
a ray of comfortable hope for their infants. That their im-
prisonment and danger should have been grievous, I do not
wonder but to await dissention amongst their tyrants and
anarchy, was the best chance the King and Queen had in store ;
but tho' both will still happen in time, I still believe, what
advantage either or both will produce to those victims may be
very doubtful. That their flight was ill-advised is plain, from
that wofully false step of leaving his recantation behind him,
before he was safely out of the country. It was strange that his
intention being divulged, he should not have learnt the pre-
parations made to prevent it, and desisted! It is equally
strange that he should have escaped, tho' so watched and
guarded !
Wednesday, 29th.
I received y r No. 36 on Monday, to which I have partly been
replying ; and to-day I have been so happy as to get No. 37 too,
to which I will now answer, as I have heard nothing more yet
of the poor French Eoyalties, who must already have felt a
thousand times worse than ever, after a glimpse of safety, and
then expecting everything that brutal barbarity can inflict, and
which nobody but French and Dr. Price could be so shameless
as to enjoy.
I am glad you escaped from the hospital without infection ;
and I will trust to your sweet feelings for y r never going again
unnecessarily to view 800 persons in pain and misery.
I have told you, and can only repeat, that I did admire Mrs.
Chomley much, as I did formerty. It is a very clear, sound,
well-informed understanding, as far as I saw ; but that was but
four or five times at most, and chiefly in company, where there
were not many of quite her calibre. She seemed to me rather
modestly proper and reserved, but not out of spirits.
I am assured, as you justly guessed, that the pamphlet which
Mons r de Lally showed to you is by no means Mr. Burke's
genuine second pamphlet, but a spurious one fabricated at
Paris, and spread about there, to hurt his credit. This I heard
last Friday, five days before I received y r letter ; so, if M. de
Lally answers it, he will be the dupe of his own enemies. Mr. B.
has advertised a new letter to-day to the Whigs, but I have not
yet seen it.
Your Italian paper is thin, but perfectly good. Cliveden will
1791] HOME AND FOREIGN NEWS. 309
look beautiful with your Narcissuses. I wish you were all there
to-day, for we are again soused into Florentine weather, and have
scarce had a teacup of rain, which makes us not look so green
as the Cascines, tho' generally we have fifty thousand acres of
such verdure thus I have answered y r chief articles.
Late at night.
I have been at Eichmond, where I have seen a letter from
good authority. The King and Queen were brought to Paris
amidst numerous thousands, and without much insult; but
they have been separated, and the Queen has been confined at
the Yal de Grace, where she was to be examined two days ago ;
and they talk of bringing her to trial for carrying away the
Child of the State, whom the Assembly wish to crown under a
regent, while the Jacobins are for a republic. I soon after saw
a gentleman from town, on whose intelligence I do not always
depend. He says the King lost six unnecessary hours on the
road in eating and drinking ; and that Mess rs de Choiseul and
Damas, who, I suppose, attended the King, are brought, not
only in chains to Paris, but with each a grenadier sitting in his
lap the whole way such unnecessary torture, that it must be
the taste of the nation to inflict it, if true.
All this, and fifty times more, true and false, you will hear
long before you receive this ; but of what can one talk else ?
Kate Macaulay was so unlucky as to die a few days ago ; but
she will gossip over it with Dr. Price.
Frank North, tho' abroad, has a musical comedy acting at the
little Hay market, and coldly received. His friends say the
music was ill-chosen or the singers unequal to it. I had had
great expectations, for he certainly has much humour and wit.
I have seen excellent verses of his in that style. His brother
Frederic was stopped from going to Constantinople by the
plague, and is supposed on his road home.
Mrs. Darner is to come to me on Friday for two days ; and
Madame D'Albany, at her own desire, is to breakfast here on
Saturday ; and, at her desire, Alfieri too. Whatever her
feelings are here, she must rejoice at having been only titular
Queen of France !
Nine months are gone and over. I trust there are but four
to come e'er we meet. Do not set a foot amongst the Basillis-
sophagi ! Monsieur and Madame have done right in retiring ;
310 LETTEES. [1791
none of the family should stay in Paris, but a paltry Duke of
Orleans with his affected trull. Mad. de Sillery and I should not
be sorry if they were pelted out of it with contempt.
Lady Clackmannan was here this morning ; puss jumped into
her lap. I said ' Mad m , do you dislike cats ? ' f Oh, no ! I like
all dumb creatures.' Aye, thought I, and so do I, but I am
not the better.
France, it seems, will supply my letters with matter, and I
shall not be reduced to village-chat yet I had rather have no
letters to write. Adieu !
Strawberry Hill, Monday, July 4, 1791.
Mrs. Darner has been here on Friday and Saturday, and
returned to town yesterday. She has already repaired the
eagle's beak with wax, so that he can again receive company ;
but as that has not force enough to execute the commands of
Jove, nor to crush the fingers of those who presume to touch
his sacred person, he will soon have another of marble. Madame
D'Albany and her cicisbeo breakfasted with us on Saturday,
and seemed really delighted consequently, 'c'estla plusgrande
reine du monde.' I really found she has more sense than I had
thought the first time I saw her ; but she had like to have
undone all, for when I showed her the e Death of Wolsey,' with
which Mrs. D. is anew enchanted, and told her it was painted
by her acquaintance, Miss Agnes Berry, she recollected neither
of you but at last it came out that she had called you Miss
Barrys. I cannot say that whitewashed her much in my eyes :
how anything approaching to the sound would strike me at any
distance of time which, I trust, will never, while I exist, exceed
four months. Apropos, t'other night I visited at the foot of
Kichmond Bridge, and found a whole circle of old and young
gossips. Miss assured me you are to be back in October, which
I do not repeat as if violating my promise of contenting myself
with the very commencement of November, but to give an
opportunity of saying that Cliveden will be quite ready to
receive you in October; and, as I conclude the lease of y r
house in town will not be out then, your best way will be not
to stop a moment in London, but to drive directly hither, and
stay all three, &c., with me till you can settle yourselves in
Cliveden. This will not only be the most convenient to your-
selves, but you are sure the most agreeable to me ; and thus
1791] SYMPATHY FELT FOE MARIE ANTOINETTE. 311
you will have time to unpack and arrange yourselves, without
being broken in upon for some days by visits, nor expected to
make them. With all my warmth for those I love, I have a
rebuffing coldness, that does not glue people to a chair in my
house.
Miss Au-pres-du-pont told me Miss A. had written to her of
my misery about your nose. I was sorry, as that family is in
daily and hourly commerce of tattle with all the world, and
all the Grimalkins in the parish will conclude I am in love
with your nose, which I vow I am not ; but if I love you both
most affectionately, as I do, can either of you wound her nose
by a dreadful fall, and I not feel for it ? Miss Dupont soon,
quitted the subject to put such a volume of interrogations to
me about L d Stafford's will, that at last I was forced to say,
' Madam, indeed I cannot answer all those questions ;' on which
she did close her incessant lips, and the ball was resumed by
the Signora Madre. Oh 1 those righteous scorpions, that will
not touch a card, but meddle with everybody's affairs with
which they have nothing to do, and never ask themselves
whether what they hear is true or false, but repeat both as
conscientiously as the postman delivers letters without knowing
what they contain. Thus every falsehood is propagated, like
seeds that birds drop out of their bills. For Truth I believe
she died a maid, and left no issue.
Thence I will not talk on France, for one is overwhelmed
with reports contradicting one another, according to the pro-
pensities of the senders and receivers. Of one thing I am
certain, of pitying the Queen ; which was so generally felt here
as soon as the reverse of her escape was known, that I was told
that, if money could serve her, an hundred thousand p ds would
have been subscribed in a quarter of an hour at Loyd's Coffee-
house. There is a wretch, a quondam Prince du Sang, who has
snapped at this moment for making himself more ridiculously
.contemptible than ever, by protesting he does not wish for the
Regency, which, I suppose, would as soon be offered to me. I
remember an old French refugee here, a Marquise de Montandre
(the Mademoiselle Spanheim of the f Spectator '), who, on the
strength of her pinchbeck marquisat, pretended to precede our
sterling countesses ; but being sure of it's not being allowed,
she thus entered her claim : when at a visit tea was brought
in ; before the groom of the chambers could offer it to anybody,
312 LETTERS. [1791
she called out, * I would not have any tea;' and then, when she
had thus saved her dignity, she said to him, after others had
been served, 'I have betought myself; I tink I will have
one cup.'
Berkeley Square, Thursday evening, 7th.
I might as well write of French affairs, as I have nothing else
to write. Apropos, we have had such violent west winds, that
I have no letter from you this week. A disagreeable affair,
with which I will not tire you long, brought me to town on
Tuesday. My disordered ward, whom I mentioned to you, was
to come to me on Tuesday from Chichester ; I was to bring
her to town yesterday, and send her with Kirgate and his
daughter to-day into Kent, where I had found a private lodging
for her with excellent people, who had a poor gentleman, in
the same way, with them, and had treated him with the utmost
tenderness. She had consented and promised to come, with a
worthy lawyer, employed by the D. of Kichmond, and his
daughter, who had submitted to attend her ; but on Monday
night she changed her mind and would not stir. I sat till
eleven at night expecting her every minute, and starting up
at the rattle of every chaise that past. The same next morning
till the post came in, when a letter from the lawyer acquainted
me she was so disordered,, that he had called in the apothecary,
who declared compulsion must be used. To that I have posi-
tively refused my consent, unless to prevent her from destroying
herself; and have ordered all the gentlest methods to be used
as long as possible, and to offer her to settle herself wherever
she likes best for she is not constantly out of her mind. It is
a most unfortunate history, and I find will give one great
trouble. I was forced to come to consult Mr. Churchill, joint
trustee with me.
Last night I supped at Mrs. Darner's (who goes to Park
Place to-morrow for three weeks), with Madame D'Albany,
the D. and Dss. of Richmond, the men Mt, Edgcumbes, Mrs.
Buller, and 'the charming man,' and to-morrow return to
Strawberry.
The Gunnings are not only resettled in St. James's Street as
boldly as ever, but constantly with old Bedford, who exults in
vmg regained them; but their place in the town-talk is
'cupied by Lady Mary Duncan, who, on receiving tickets for
1791] HOME NEWS. 313
his benefit from Badini, at the Pantheon, where Pacchierotti
does not sing, she returned them with a most abusive letter,
calling him impudent monster and wretched poet. This has
given somebody an opportunity of returning an answer (in his
name) ten times more scurrilous, and which is cried up as full
of humour ; but by what has been repeated to me out of it, I
only found it exceedingly coarse and indelicate. However, she
cannot be pitied, having committed herself by being the
aggressor towards such a fellow. Adieu ! I have exhausted my
small sack of gatherings.
[Strawberry Hill, Tuesday night, July 12, 1791.
I had had no letter from you for ten days, I suppose from
west winds, but did receive one this morning, which had been
three weeks on the road and a charming one it was. Mr. Batt,
who dined with me yesterday, and stayed till after breakfast to-
day, being here, I redde part of it to him, and he was as much
delighted as I was with y r happy quotation of Incedit Regina.
If I could spare so much room, I might fill this paper with all he
said of you both, and with all the friendly kind things he begged
me to say to both from him. Last night I redde to him certain
reminiscences, and this morning he slipped from me and walked
over to Cliveden and hopes to see it again much more agree-
ably. I hope so too and that I shall be with him.] Now to
answer you.
The Duke of Argyll and Lady Charlotte are at Inverary, and
he, they say, is very low, and not at all well. Lady Derby is at
Eichmond I hear, much as usual. Mrs. D. is at Park -place for
three weeks, has been here as I told you in my last, is perfectly
well, and looks better than ever I saw her. Mrs. Hervey is gone
thither to-day from Hampton, where she has been two or three
days with the Johnstones (I did not know of such intimacy) ;
they all and Mrs. Anderson were here yesterday morning, and I
dined with all but Mrs. Hervey at Mrs. Grarrick's last Saturday.
M^. Batt and Clackmannan were there too.
[I wish there were not so many fetes at Florence ; they are
worse for you both than Italian sultriness ; but if you do go to
their, I am glad you have more northern weather.
News I have none, but that Calonne arrived in London
on Sunday you may be sure I do not know for what in a
314 LETTERS. [1791
word, I have no more opinion of his judgment, than of his
integrity.
Now I must say a syllable about myself but don't be alarmed !
it is not the gout ; it is worse, it is the rheumatism, which I
have had in my shoulder ever since it attended the gout last
December. It was almost gone till last Sunday, when the
Bishop of London [Porteous] preaching a charity sermon in our
church, whither I very, very seldom venture to hobble, I would go
to hear him, both out of civility, and as I am very intimate with
him. The church was crammed, and tho' it rained, every window
was open. However, at night I went to bed and to sleep ; but
waked with such exquisite pain in my rheumatic right shoulder,
that I think I scarce ever felt greater torture from the gout.]
It was so grievous, that I considered whether I should not
get out of bed but the thought that I might kill myself,
and consequently not live to Cliveden-tide, checked me
upon my honour this is true I lay not still, but writhing
about, till about five o'clock, when I fell asleep. I have had
but very moderate pain since. I own I did tremble at night,
but I had my usual comfortable night composed of one whole
dose of sleep, and could not be very bad yesterday, as I could
read to Mr. Batt for two hours and half without reposing, nor
worse to-day, when I have been writing this prolix syllable to
you, in my lap indeed, without deputing Kirgate. Tho' the
gout could never subdue my courage, nor make me take any
precaution against catching cold, the rheumatism and Cliveden
have made a coward of me. I now draw up my coach glasses,
button my breast, and put a hat on the back of my head, for I
cannot yet bear it to touch my forehead, when I go into the
garden. You charged me to be particular when I am not well
I think I have been circumstantial enough ! If I am in love
with your nose and Jong to see it, quite recovered, take root
at Cliveden, at least your Corydon does not forget that he is
seventy-four, nor conceal one particle of his rheumatism. His
dread of being gone before November does not look as if he
thought himself immortal and yet as a true knight, no Oron-
dates ever suffered more for his mistress, than I did heroically
on Sunday night in not getting out of bed.
Thursday evening.
I cannot finish this with my own hand, for yesterday morning
1791] RETURN OF GOUT. 315
I had a good deal of pain, the incorporated society of rheumatism
and gout have got down to my elbow and wrist, and I cannot
move my arm at all however, as the pain is locomotive, I trust
it will soon go quite away. I will write again on Tuesday, tho'
a hors-d'oeuvre ; and I could have wished to write more myself
to-day, for this morning I received another charming letter from
you, with a most picturesque description of the Great Duke's
Inthronization in the Pan-Athenion in the Piazza del Gran Duca
there, there are as many long words as Dr. Johnson's ! and you
may roll them out to the bottom of the page, since 1 cannot give
it its usual complement, for tho' the spirit is willing, the flesh is
weak. Adieu !
Mr. Walpole continued too much disabled to write, but
dictated the two following letters to Kirgate :
Strawberry Hill, Sunday night, July 17, 1791.
Next to being better I am rather a little glad I am worse,
i. e., the gout is come to assert his priority of right to me, and
when he has expelled the usurper, I trust he will retire quietly
too ; in the meanwhile, my case is party per pale good and bad :
I slept last night without waking, but if I want still more gout,
I think I can draw upon my right knee, where there seems to
be a little in store for me. In good earnest, the rapid shifting
of my complaint makes me flatter myself that it will not be
permanent.
I have not said a word to you of the apprehensions that had
been conceived of some mischief to happen on Thursday last,
the second intended celebration of the French Eevolution. I
thought you might be alarmed, and remain anxious for a fort-
night ; now I can tell you that it totally miscarried. The Ee-
volution Club wished to hold their Jubilee at the Opera-house
or Ranelagh, both were refused ; they had intended to have
exhibited flags and National cockades sent from France, but
those sent thence were stopt at the Custom House ; and tho'
some cockades were exhibited in a shop or two, nobody wore
one. Numbers of Paine's pamphlet were distributed, but
equally without success. At last the meeting was fixed at the
Cr&vvn and Anchor, and circular letters of invitation were sent
to all sorts of persons, and at most did not produce a thou-
sand head : Mr. Fox was sounded, but declined ; then, even
316 LETTEKS. [1791
their solitary peer, Lord Stanhope, withdrew. Mr. Sheridan
was persuaded not to go, and they had not one man of conse-
quence but Mr. Pigot the Prince's Solicitor, who has not made
his court by it. In short, it ended with contempt and ridicule,
and without any disturbance, except that at eleven at night
some glaziers and tallow-chandlers broke a few windows in the
Strand and Cheapside, to force people to put out lights, but all
was immediately suppressed by the magistrates.
There has been a much worse tumult at Birmingham on
the same day. The Faction had stuck up most treasonable
papers with long extracts from Dr. Price's sermon, but as soon
as the people perceived the drift of them, they arose with in-
dignation and demolished two or three meeting-houses, and the
evening papers of last night said, Dr. Priestly's* house too, but
I was told before dinner that the last is not true.
A remarkable circumstance has happened: somebody has
found and reprinted a sermon by Dr. Price, preached some years
ago, in which he displays at length the superior happiness of
this country to all others, particularly by the increase of liberty
from taking off general warrants, &c.
I am tired, and will say no more now ; but will reserve the
rest of my paper till to-morrow, when I hope to give you a
better account of myself, and as good of the public.
Monday evening.
I have had another good night. I have nothing to do but
to recover as fast as any tortoise in Christendom. News I have
none to send you, nor desire to have, of home manufacture. In
France, I believe, they will have enough to do to consume their
own, without seeing their fashions adopted, as they used to be,
by other countries. Adieu 1 my good Friend.
Strawberry Hill, Wednesday evening, July 20th, 1791.
Tho' a supernumerary letter set out for you from London but
yesterday evening, yet I will not lose my ordinary Friday's post,
and begin this now for two reasons ; first, I am sure you will be
glad to hear that I am much better, tho' an accident that hap-
* Dr - Pries % a distinguished dissenting divine, born 1733; died 1804.
Publi< I A ^^J^ Deatl1 f Dr ' Price >' and ' An
on the Subject of the Riot at Birmingham/ &c &c
1791] A MISTAKE. 317
pened to me on Monday night might have had ugly consequences.
Having had a good deal of fever, I take saline draughts : a fresh
parcel came on Sunday night, with a bottle in a separate paper,
which I concluded was hartshorn, which I had wanted. They
were laid on the window, and next morning I bade James give
me one of the draughts: he thinking it one of the former
parcel, gave me the separate draught, and I swallowed it direct-
ly, but instantly found it was something very different, and sent
for the apothecary to know what I had taken ; yet before he
could arrive, I found upon enquiry, and by the effects, that it
was a vomit designed for one of the maids to be sure, in pain
and immoveable all down my right side, it was not a pleasant
adventure, but it had not the least bad effect, and I dictated
the conclusion of my letter to you that very night, tho' I
would not then mention the accident, lest you might suspect me
poisoned before this could arrive to convince you of the con-
trary. I was very well all yesterday, and so I am to-day, and
should have walk'd about the house but have had company
the whole of the day. Before I arose Gren. Conway came to
breakfast with me from London, on his way back to Park Place :
then came Lady Charlotte North and Mrs. Gr. Cholmondeley,
from Bushy; Mrs. Grenville from Hampton Court, and the
Mount Edgecumbes from Eichmond, whilst three different com-
panies were seeing the house by a confusion I had made during
my pain in giving out three tickets for the same day all this
is a trumpery story, but at least will show you that I am very
well now.
My second reason for writing now is, that I received yesterday
a most kind letter from your father, for which I give him a
thousand thanks ; particularly for the good account he gives me
of your nose ; and, as he desires, I blend my answer with this
to you too : he also hints at what I expected, and do not dislike,
that he finds Florence not more delightful than England, and
shall not be sorry, for which I again thank him, to set up his
staff at Cliveden.
Gren. Conway told me that the latest accounts last night in
Town from Birmingham were, that all was quieted there on the
arrival of the military, but that the populace were gone into
Worcestershire, some said in pursuit of Dr. Priestly ; and that
they had threatened Ragley, Lord Beauchamp's Seat, in their
318 LETTERS. [1791
own county, for his having been for taking off the Test Act;
but as the Edgecumbes were here at three o'clock and had heard
nothing new, I conclude and hope all is over. Great mischief
has been done at Birmingham, and indeed the provocations there
and in London, and in other places, have been grievous. Vast
numbers of Paine's pamphlet were distributed both to regiments
and ships, but were given up voluntarily to the officers, and
even money was tried on the guards, but to no purpose : the most
seditious hand-bills were stuck up in London and Birmingham,
and Dr. Priestly is said to have boasted that at the latter, he
could raise 20,000 men ; and so indeed he has, but against
himself.
As not the least spirit of dissatisfaction has appeared any-
where, I trust the French Eevolutionists will not hazard any
more attempts : nor is France at all likely to emerge out of its
own dreadful calamities, which will now tempt no other nations
to imitate them. I inclose the best printed account, I have
seen, of the riots at Birmingham from yesterday's paper.
Thursday evening.
The moment I had finished dictating this last night, I received
yours with the continuation of y r fetes ; the conflagration of
the ball-room at the Cascines, and y r first news of the flight of
the poor French Majesties, to all which I have left myself no
paper to answer : but I have written these three lines with my
own hand, which I am vain enough to think will satisfy you
more. Thrice, Adieu !
The letter of July 26th is again in his own hand-
writing, and was followed by those of August 3rd, 8th,
and 10th.
[Strawberry Hill, July 26, 1791.
Lady Cecilia tells me that her nephew, Mr. West,* who was
with you at Pisa, declares he is in love with you both so I am
not singular. You two may like to hear this, tho' no novelty
to you, but it will not satisfy Mr. Berry, who will be impatient
for news from Birmingham, but there are no more, nor any
whence else. There has not been another riot in any of the
three kingdoms. The villain Paine came over for the Crown
* The Hon. Septimus West, uncle to the present Lord De la Warre. He
died the year after.
1791] EIOTS IN THE PROVINCES. 319
and Anchor, but finding that his pamphlet had not set a straw
on fire, and that the 14 th of July was as little in fashion as the
ancient Grunpowder Plot, he dined at another tavern with a few
quaking conspirators, and probably is returned to Paris, where
he is engaged in a controversy with the Abbe Sieyes about the
plus or minus of rebellion. The rioters in Worcestershire,
whom I mentioned in my last, were not a detachment from
Birmingham, but volunteer incendiaries from the capital, who
went, according to the rights of men, with the meer view of
plunder, and threatened gentlemen to burn their houses, if not
ransomed. Eleven of these disciples of Paine are in custody;
and Mr. Merry, Mrs. Barbauld, and Miss Helen Williams will
probably have subjects for elegies. Deborah and Jael, I believe,
were invited to the Crown and Anchor, and had let their nails
grow accordingly ; but some how or other no Poissonnieres were
there, and the two prophetesses had no opportunity that day of
exercising their talents or talons. Their French allies, cock
and hen, have a fairer field open, and the Jacobins, I think, will
soon drive the National Assembly to be better Royalists than
ever they were, in self-defence.]
I know nothing else, but it is early in the week. Yes, Mrs.
Keppel has let her house at Isleworth to Sheridan, for 4001. a
year an immense rate and yet far from a wise bargain. He
has been just forced out of his house in Bruton-street by his
landlord, who could get no rent from him : almost the night he
came to Isleworth, he gave a ball there, which will not pre-
cipitate Mrs. K.' 8 receipts.
Wednesday evening, 27th.
This morning I received yours of the 12th, so it was but a
fortnight on its journey I wish all journeys from Florence
could be as rapid. I am now beginning my fears about roads,
bad inns, accidents and winds at sea; and they will increase
from the first of September.
[You have indeed surprised me by y r account of the strange
credulity on poor Kiog Louis's escape in safety I In these
villages, we heard of his flight* late in the evening, and the
very next morning of his being retaken. Much as he at least
the QUeen has suffered, I am persuaded the adventure has
hastened general confusion, and will increase the Royal party ;
* To Varennes.
320 LETTERS. [1791
tho' perhaps their Majesties, for their personal safeties, had
better have awaited the natural progress of anarchy. The
enormous deficiency of money, and the total insubordination of
the army, both apparent and uncontradicted from the reports
made to the National Assembly, show what is coming. Into
what such a chaos will subside, it woud be silly to attempt to
guess. Perhaps it is not wiser in the exiles to expect to live to
see a resettlement in their favour. One thing I have for these
two years thought probable to arrive a division, at least a dis-
memberment, of France. Despotism could no longer govern so
unwieldy a machine; a republic would be still less likely to
hold it together. If Foreign Powers should interfere, they will
take care to pay themselves with what is a, leur bienseance,
and that in reality would be serving France too. So much for
my speculations, and they have never varied.
We are so far from intending to new model our Government,
and dismiss the Koyal Family, annihilate the Peerage, cashier
the Hierarchy, and lay open the land to the first occupier, as
Dr. Priestly and Tom Paine, and the Eevolution Club humbly
proposed, that we are even encouraging the breed of Princes.
It is generally believed that the Duke of York is going to
marry the Princess of Prussia, the King's daughter by his first
wife, and his favourite child. I do not affirm it, but many
others do.]
You will be sorry for Mr. Batt : when he left me, he
was going to Ld. Frederic Campbell's, but was sent for to
Oxford, where his only brother, a clergyman, was dying, and is
dead, of a putrid fever. He was fifteen years younger than Mr.
Batt, and much beloved by him. Mrs. Grarrick came and told
me of it in tears. Another person has told me that in point of
circumstances it may enrich Mr. Batt ; they have a very rich
old uncle, whose partiality was for the younger.
Thank you for remembering the Cardinal of York's medal;
how welcome it will be, for from what hand am I to receive it !
There is another dear hand from which I wish I sometimes saw
a line ! I can and do write to both at once, and think to and of
both at once ; but methinks letters all from one hand are not
the same thing. I shall not think I am as equally dear to both
as they are to me, if I never hear but from one. Mary is con-
stant, but I shall fear Martha is busy about many other things !
Mr. Berry is so good as to write to me. I say no more.
1791] WALPOLE'S ANXIETIES FOE HIS FEIENDS. 321
Thursday night, late.
I heard nothing at my dinnei', but I have since been at
Eichmond, and heard that Lady Valetort is brought to bed of a
daughter, so this time Lady Mount will cry with but one eye.
[But Lady Di has told me an extraordinary fact. Catherine
Slayczar* sent for Mr. Fawkener, and desired he will order for
her a bust of Charles Fox, and she will place it between
Demosthenes and Cicero (pedantry she learnt from her French
authors, and which our schoolboys would be above using), for
his eloquence has saved two great nations from a war, by his
opposition to it : s'entend so the peace is no doubt made. She
could not have addressed her compliment worse than to Mr.
Fawkener, sent by Mr. Pitt, and therefore so addressed, and
who of all men does not love Mr. Fox and Mr. Fox, who has
no vain glory, will not care a straw for the flattery, and will
understand it too. (rood night.]
Strawberry Hill, Aug. 3, 1791.
How cruel to know you ill at such a distance ! how shocking to
must have patience, when one has none ! I do hope I shall have
another line this week, and yet the wind is westwardly ! Your
fever, I am persuaded, was no slight one. Your fetes and balls
and the heat have occasioned your illness ; you both left England
in search of health, and yet have done as much as you could have
performed in London, where at least the cold can tolerate crowds
and fatigue. Nor have you been temperate even since your
fever ; you have aired too long, and why see four or five persons
so soon, and sit up with them till eleven ? All this kind Agnes
has owned, tho' she says she is perfectly easy about you can I
be so, who may be a week without knowing whether you have
had no return ? I longed to see Agnes's writing, and she never
could have sent it more apropos, since there was occasion for it
you yourself were both kind and unkind to write so much
but burn the French ! why write so much about them ? For
heaven's sake be more careful; you are both of you delicate
and far from strong. You bid me take care of myself to what
purpose do I cocker myself against November, if you two fling
away your healths nay, I will now not look so early as to
* The Empress Catherine II.
VOL. I. Y
322 LETTERS. [1791
November. Do not, I implore you, set out in great heats.
Fatigue and hot bad inns may lay you up where there is no
assistance. Oh ! I now feel again all the aversion I felt last year
to y r journey ! Travel slowly, I beseech you ; I had rather wait
months for you, than have you run any risk. Surely you will
keep very quiet till you begin y r journey, and perfectly recruit
your health. Dear Mr. Berry, exert your authority, and do not
suffer them to be giddy and rash, nor plunge into any more
diversions.
I cannot write about the French, nor think about them now,
tho' I heard of nothing else all yesterday, for Petty France
dined here yesterday, and I went back with them to Eichmond.
They firmly believed that all Europe in arms will march to
Paris by Tuesday se'nnight, drive the Assembly and the Jacobins
into the Eed Sea, and borrow our fleet to replace the exiles
here in their own hotels sur le quai. I forget why they believe
all this, nor shall I recollect why till I have another letter from
you. I believe too that I have not heard a tittle of news, but
that you have had a fever at Florence, and that y r bedchamber
is very noisy oh ! how quiet you would have been at Cliveden
and that Mr. and Mrs. Legge have been divinely kind, and
lent you one more tranquil ; what charming people they
must be !
Mrs. Darner passed Sunday with me; her leg is not well
again; she goes to Goodwood on Friday, and thence to the
sea.
Thursday, noon.
I am not at all more easy, tho' I have slept since I heard of
your fever. Your journey haunts me ; you will not be strong
enough to undertake it so soon as you intended ; you w d begin
it when the weather is too hot, and finish it when too cold.
No, I had rather you did not set out till March tho' I might
never see you more; it had better be prevented by my exit
than by yours. Everything terrifies me for you ; tho' I have
little faith in a speedy invasion of France, yet I believe it when
you may be to pass thro' armies and camps. My dear, dear
wives, be cautious! no risks by land or sea! in short, I am
unquiet to the greatest degree. I had almost forgot to thank
you about the medals: bring me but yourselves safe and in
1791] WALPOLE'S ANXIETIES FOR HIS FRIENDS. 323
good health, and I care about nothing else yes, I do, for
another letter. I ought, when you desire it and are not well,
to try to amuse you ; but seriously, if I have heard any news, I
have forgot it but I think I have heard nothing, but that Lord
Henry Fitzgerald and Miss Boyle are to be married to-day;
and that Miss Ogilvie's match with the rich Irish heir apparent
is off; her brother Lord Edward carried her dismission of him,
and did not deliver it in dulcet words.
If I receive good accounts from Florence, my next letter
shall tell you anything I learn ; if I persisted in adding to
this, I could only specify a million more of apprehensions and
execrations of your journey, from the 10th of October to the
16th of March, when you had y^fall, and then to y r fetes and
fever in July. St. James's day has been my only holiday in
ten months do not give him a post-vigil that may destroy his
festival. Adieu ! adieu ! what would I not give for another
letter this moment !
P.S. My dearest Agnes, tho' you have no fever, yet as you
have undergone the same heats and fatigues with Mary, I
entreat you to take four or five grains of St. James', that if
you have any lurking disorder, it may remove it before you set
out, and prevent y r falling on the road, which I dread tho' I
wish y r journey to be delayed. If you are quite well, the
powder will have no effect at all. I hope you will all three
observe a very strict regimen before you set out for at least ten
days ; I have not forgotten Italian inns, and how totally void
they are of comforts and assistance. This fever has frightened
me horridly.
Monday night, Aug. 8, 1791.
I have received no second letter, but Mrs. Darner had one on
Saturday, which says you go on as well as possible. Perhaps
I may have one to-morrow. I have been in twenty minds
whether I should write again before my usual Friday, for I feel
I shall only tire you with an anxiety about a fever that I
hope will have been quite gone a fortnight at least before you
receive my letter : yet write I must. I am sure you have been
very ill, and now I dread your setting out too soon, as much as
I was afraid of your not coming at the time you had fixed ;
r 2
324 LETTERS. [1791
and I was tolerably uneasy about the last. To know you in
bad inns, and not even know where ! fearful of not receiving
y r letters regularly uncertain whether you will get mine.
Well, only determine on the most prudent and safe measures
that can be taken, and I shall forget all when I see you
return well, how long soever it be first. I give up, I disclaim,
I protest against all promises, that could make you think of
setting out one instant before you are fit for it. I have been
too selfish already ; I have not an atom of self-love when your
health is in question.
My poor letters that you say are not so barren as I foretold
they would be in summer, will now I doubt have the additional
desagrement of being teazing and full of repetitions. Can one
attend to or inquire after news, when one's mind is occupied
about one family and anxious about every step they take? Can one
relate with interest what does not interest one ? Will it amuse
you to be told daily that I went to Boyle-farm this morning to
visit Lord Henry Fitzgerald and his bride, and carried in my
coach an old Lady Glifden (oh ! not a Cliveden), her aunt,
who is at Mr. ElHs's, and told me a whole chronicle, about which
I did not care a straw, of the no-match of Miss Ogilvie ? Then
I went and dined at Mrs. Grarrick's with Les Bouffiers, Madame
de Cambis and the Johnstones, and Mrs. Anderson, and the
French being afraid of the highwaymen, would not return over
the common, and desired me to convoy them through Bushy-
park, which I did. They wished me to return with them to
Eichmond, but I chose to alight here, and write to you,
tho' I had nothing better to send you than this dull day's
work.
Mr. Lenox has got a son. There is to be a ball at Windsor
on Friday for the Prince's birthday, which has not lately been
noticed there. Lord Lorn and seven other young men of fashion
were invited to it. It seems they now crop their hair short
and wear no powder, which not being the etiquette yet, the
youths, instead of representing that they are not fit to appear
so docked, sent excuses that they were going out of town, or
were unavoidably engaged, a message one w d think dictated
by Old Prynne or Tom Paine, and certainly unparalleled in all
the books in the L d Chamberlain's office.
This being the sum total of my gazette's knowledge, I will not
1791] WALPOLE'S ANXIETIES FOR HIS FRIENDS. 325
trust my pen with the rest of my paper, which you may guess
how it would fill if I gave a loose to it. I will suffer it to ask
but one question Shall you not recollect Charing-cross before
you set out ? It would give me a pleasure that would balance
my not seeing you so soon as I expected, and you owe me a par-
ticular mark of friendship for the uneasiness y r fever has given
me. Adieu ! adieu !
Strawberry Hill, Aug. 10, 1791.
Your letter of the 25th of last month, which I received yes-
terday, assures me that you are completely recovered nay, bet-
ter than before y r fever. I do my utmost to believe so ; but
belief is not like faith, one cannot swallow it whole at a gulp
without proof, and alas ! I am at too great a distance to receive
them ! I am persuaded you have been very ill ; and by the bet-
ter than be/ore, that your fever was generating. Your good
nature induces you to make me as easy as you can ; but how
can I be easy, when you are so far off, have been very weak,
have such a journey to take, and while I am uncertain when I
shall see you again or, if ever I I do not recant a word in my
two last. I wish you to decide on your return from the state of
your health, strength, and inclination. The great blow to me
was your going abroad at all, and I interested myself in it much
more than I had any right to do. It has been followed by all
kind of disquiets, which I will not recapitulate. Your last gives
me a new alarm : I had flattered myself with your coming
directly to Cliveden. I now see a hitch even in that ! I must
be obstinate and foolish indeed if I nurse any more visions, and
attempt to harmonise ages so dissonant as yours and mine, and
attempt to make their purposes coincide : yet I declare, tho'
my own happiness has a great share in my plan, its ultimate
object is to make you two a little more comfortable when I
shall be out of the question. If you have any speculations
more rational, I relinquish mine with pleasure. One point
I can by no means abandon : set not your feet on French
ground ; I hear daily of insults and violence offered to English
travelling to or through that frantic country : a Lady Webster
was lately illused on the frontiers of Swisserland, and her
pockets would have been ransacked, had not her husband inter-
posed roughly. You cannot have a lower opinion of that whole
nation than I have: the residents are barbarians, the exiles
326 LETTEKS. [1791
have wanted spirit, and neither have any sense. Impatience
I have none for Lally's book ; like Necker, he imagines Europe
occupied about him, or would make it so. Miss Gunning acted
fainting t'other night at the play on Lord Lorn entering the
next box ; but momentary meteors have no second benefit.
The Emperor, by rejecting Noailles now, will have acted
sillily, if he does not do more. Had he refused to receive him
at first, very well ; it would have been condemning rebellion,
and would have called for no more, if he did not chuse to make
war; but now, when the King is not a whit more a prisoner
than he was two years ago, it will be the anger of a tame eagle.
Still I think the distresses and calamities of France will present
more favourable moments than even the present, tho' I believe
the National Assembly frightened almost into their senses.
The Duke of York's marriage is certain ; the Duke of Clarence
told me so himself yesterday. He graciously came hither yes-
terday, tho' I had not been to pay my court : indeed I concluded
he had forgotten me, as at his age was very natural. Not having
cropt my hair, I went to-day to thank him. He could not see
me, but sent to desire I would call on him to-morrow. I asked
the page at what hour it would be proper ; he answered, ' be-
tween ten and eleven.' Mercy on me ! to be dressed and at
Petersham before eleven ! I am not got down to modern hours ;
but neither am I reverted to those of Queen Elizabeth, nor
to those of Louis Douze, who is said to have hastened his
death by condescending, in complaisance to his young Queen
Mary Tudor, to dine at so late an hour as eleven in the morn-
ing. I at least, before I am so rakish, will wait the arrival of
my own Queen Mary.
Mrs. Buller a month ago told me she should pass a fortnight
here at Twickenham in her sister Lady Basset's house yonder,
you know. Her son was ill, and she came not till last Sunday,
and then only for a night with him and Miss Wilkes. They
came and drank tea here.
As I wrote to you but three nights ago, I will make no excuse
for the brevity of this, which is only to acknowledge yours, and
to fall in with my own Friday. If you are really quite well,
and set out nearly to the time you intended, I expect that
our correspondence will be much deranged. News you will
not lose of consequence September is most inactive but against
1791] WALPOLE'S IMPATIENCE FOR HIS FRIENDS' RETURN. 327
poor partridges, and in horseraces, neither of which have places
in my gazettes. Adieu !
Mr. Walpole's letter of August 17th has only been
published in part, and without the verses to which he
alludes, and which are here included.
[Strawberry Hill, Aug. 17, 1791.
No letter from Florence this post, tho' I am wishing for one
every day ! The illness of a friend is bad, but is augmented
by distance. I dont write with any view to hastening that,
which I trust will entirely depend on the state of y r health
and strength nay, I depend on Mr. Berry's not leaving
it to your own discretion but I am impatient to know y r
intentions : in short, I feel that from this time to y r arrival
my letters will grow very tiresome. I can think of nothing
but y r journey, which fills me with fears. I have heard to-day
that Lord* and Lady Sheffield, who went to visit Mr. Gibbon
at Lausanne, met with great trouble and impertinence at almost
every post in France. In Swisserland there is a furious spirit
of democracy or demonocracy ; they made great rejoicings on
the re-capture of the King of France. Oh ! when will you sit
down on the quiet banks of the Thames ?
Wednesday night.
Since I began my letter, I have received yours of the 2 d two
days later than usual, and a most comfortable one it is I My belief
and my faith are now of the same religion I do believe you
quite recovered.
The stocks are transported with the pacification with Eussia,
and do not care for what it has cost to bully the Empress to no
purpose, and say we can afford it ; nor can Paine and Priestly
persuade them, that France is much happier than we are by
having ruined itself. The poor French here are in hourly
expectation of as rapid a counter revolution, as what happened
two years ago. Have you seen the King of Sweden's letter to
his minister, enjoining him to look dismal, and to take care
not to be knocked on the head for so doing? It deserves to be
framed with M. de Bouille's bravado.]
Mr. Gilpin was here on Saturday, and desired me to say a
* The father of the present Earl Sheffield.
328 LETTERS. [1791
thousand civil things from him. Lord Derby and the Farrens
were to dine here to-morrow, but the Earl has got the gout,
and the party is put off. Our weather for this week has been
worthy of Florence, with large showers, very reputable lighten-
ing, and a decent proportion of thunder, and yet the warmth
has stood the shock bravely. I wish it may keep up its courage
till next Monday, when Lord Eob. Spencer is to give a cup for
a sailing match at Richmond in honour of the Duke of
Clarence's birth-day. I beg y r pardons, but I dont think Lord
Dysart's and Cambridge's meadows* on such an occasion, will
yield the apple" to the Casein es.
[You say you will write me longer letters when you know I
am well : your recovery has quite the contrary effect on me ;
I could scarce restrain my pen while I had apprehensions about
you now you are well, the goose-quill has not a word to say
one would think it had belonged to a physician.
I shall fill my vacuum with some lines that General Conway
has sent me, written by I know not whom, on Mrs. Harte,
Sir W. Hamilton's pantomime mistress or wife, who acts all
the antique statues in an Indian shawl. I have not seen her
yet, so am no judge, but people are mad about her wonderful
expression, which I do not conceive, so few antique statues
having any expression at all nor being designed to have it.]
Here are the verses :
ATTITUDES A SKETCH.
To charm the sense, the taste to guide,
Sculpture and Painting long had tried :
Both call'd ideal beauty forth j
Both claim'd a disputable worth :
When Nature, looking down on Art,
Made a new claim, and show'd us Harte ;
All of Correggio's faultless line ;
Of Guide's air and look divine ,
All that arose to mental view
When Raphael his best angels drew :
The artist's spell, the poet's thought,
By her to beauteous life is brought.
The gazer sees each feature move,
Each grace awake and breathing love ;
From parts distinct a matchless whole :
She finds the form, and gives the soul.
* The meadows on each eide of the Thames immediately above Rich-
mond Bridge. -
1791] PISA. 329
Altogether it is a pretty little poem enough, tho' not very
poetically expressed, but Dr. Darwin has destroyed my admira-
tion for any poetry but his own do you recollect how he has
described some antique statues? That Canto is not yet
published.
The letter of the 23rd* of August was an account of
his having been to the Duke of Queensbury's, and met
Sir William Hamilton and Mrs. Harte (afterwards Lady
Hamilton), of whose grace and singing he writes in
raptures. He had also been in company there with Madame
du Barry, and he recounts the visit to England of the
soi-disante Margravine of Anspach, and of his Highness
the Margrave having informed her brother, Lord Berke-
ley,f that they have an usage in his country of taking a
wife' with the left hand, that he had espoused his lord-
ship's sister in that manner, and that when she became a
widow he would marry her with the right hand also.
Thus end the letters addressed to the Miss Berrys by
Mr. Walpole during their residence at Florence and at
Pisa. Unfortunately the letters from the Miss Berrys to
Mr. Walpole have been sought for in vain, and were
probably destroyed by themselves after his death.
Miss Berry's Journal must now be resumed from
February 8th, at Pisa.
JOUKNAL.
i
February, 8th. The Duomo at Pisa was built in the be-
ginning of the eleventh century by Breschetto da Dulichio,
as most people think a Greek by birth, and about a century
or more afterwards the Battisterio, built by Dioti Salvi de
* Published.
t Lord Craven died September 1791 ; and his widow, the soi-disante Mar-
gravine, married the Margrave at Lisbon, on the 30th October of the same
year. She died in 1828.
330 JOURNAL. [1791
Petroni ; both of them astonishing buildings for the time
of day, and unrivalled for above two centuries afterwards.
In the outside wall of the Duomo are inserted many
pieces of ornaments of ancient sculpture, having evidently
belonged to some magnificent buildings, probably at the
time when Pisa was a nourishing Eoman colony.
Epitaph upon the monument of the famous Marie
Mancini, in the church of the S. Sepulcro in Pisa. It is
upon a marble in the pavement above her arms, D. 0. M.
6 Marie Mancini Columnia,
Pulvis et Cinis.'
Below the arms it says that her son, the Cardinal Colonna,
put this humble epitaph by his mother's express desire.
She died in the year 1715.
Monday, April 18th. Left Pisa this morning ; stopped
at Lucca : the town has altogether the air of a capital,
though the streets in themselves are neither wide nor long.
The Duomo is in the same style of architecture as that of
Pisa, though I do not know its date. It has a fine modern
mosaic pavement. The walls which surround the town are
planted with trees, and the bastions at certain distances
are little groves. The view is charming from hence of a
small, well cultivated plain, surrounded by mountains.
From Lucca we took six horses to Borgo a Buggiano,
for the road is hilly, rough, and stony, but the country
uniformly beautiful.
At Borgo a Buggiano we were obliged to rest our
horses, all those at the post having been sent for upon the
road to Eome to forward the Queen of Naples.
Pistoia is a handsome town, with very fine, wide, long
streets. They say it is not half peopled (from want of
manufactures, I suppose) : of this I could be no judge.
At Prato, a large Borgo, the post-house is in a square, or
what we should call a green. When we passed a little
before sunset, all the people were out amusing themselves,
and the scene was gay and beautiful.
1791] THE LAURENTIAN LIBRARY 331
We arrived at Florence by the finest moonlight that
ever was, which I should have enjoyed much, had it not
been for a cruel head-ache which made me the more re-
gret to find the Porta del Prato shut, as is the custom,
about half an hour after sunset, and we were obliged to go
round to another gate, making a difference of not less than
a couple of miles.
From Pisa to Florence, including delays, about thirteen
hours. In a light carriage, it might be done in much less.
Wednesday, 27th. Florence. Went to see the Lau-
ren tian Medicean Library. It is in a long gallery, built by
Michael Angelo, for the reception of these valuable manu-
scripts : the vestibule is likewise of his architecture, and
though the upper part is unfinished, it is admirable. Though
small (it is only 30 feet English by 30 or 32), from being
divided into large parts and not overcharged with orna-
ments, it has an air of grandeur. The ornaments are
all executed in a dark-coloured stone, and the masonry
admirable. In the Library, everything, even to the orna-
ments of the desks where the books are kept, and the
design which is executed in the brick floor, are by Michael
Angelo ; the ceiling, too, is fine, carved wood, but being
of its natural brown colour and not arched, has to me
a heavy effect. The books are all manuscripts, of which
there are* placed upon and under desks, like pews
in a church going up each side of the long gallery, at
which one can sit to read.
The librarian, a very civil Canonico Bandini, showed us
the Virgil of the fourth century, which they call the oldest
existing ; it is very fairly written, but less easy to read
than the one in the Vatican. We saw, too, the Horace
that belonged to Petrarch, with some notes in it by his
own hand. It is in large quarto, and not a beautiful
manuscript from the number of notes and scholiastes
interrupting and confusing the text. The librarian is
* 9 ; 000. Murray's Handbook.
332 JOUBNAL. [1791
educating a little boy, an orphan, who now, at twelve years
old, reads and understands Latin, Greek, and Hebrew,
from which last language he explained to us a part of the
Bible.
In this library is the famous original copy of Justinian's
Pandects, which we are to see another day.
From the Laurentian we went to the Marucelliana Li-
brary, another public collection of books left to the public
by MaruceUia, a lawyer, in the year* . It contains a
very considerable collection of prints, a complete collec-
tion of the works of M. Antonio, chiefly, I fancy, of use to
artists.
August Memoranda : Florence. In the palace of
the Duke of Strozzi, one exquisite picture, a portrait
by Titian of a child of the family about five or six years
old, leaning against a table arid feeding a dog with a
biscuit, dressed in white with curling hair : the colouring
and composure of the infantine expression charming.
In the Palazzo Attorite, a portrait of EafFael by him-
self an undoubted original, as he was known to be pro-
tected by the family, and to have given them his picture.
It is a head and shoulders in his last and most finished
manner ; it most resembles the portrait of himself which
he has put into his School of Athens, but is much hand-
somer than that or any of the other pictures of him. It
is a countenance of much genius and expression.
The outside of the Palazzo Attorite is adorned with
marble thermes en pilaster with heads in profile ; they
have a very ugly effect, but curious from being all por-
traits of the family one of the oldest of the republic.
In the Palazzo Gerardi a most numerous collection of
pictures. Those that struck me most were the Vulture
preying upon Prometheus, by Salvator Eosa, a wonderful
picture for expression, but the attitude ungraceful at a
little distance the figure looks like the Duke of Atholl's
* Died in 1703. Library opened in 1752.
1791] LETTER FROM MRS. DAMER. 333
arms ; * and The Crucifying St. Andrea, a group in small
whole-length, by Carlo "Dolce, of which Mr. Duncomb has
either a copy or a duplicate.
In the cloisters of the convent of Sante Croce, a beauti-
ful portico by Brunelleschi,f which has many faults in de-
tail, but altogether an air of grandeur which will stamp
a character of excellence upon any architecture to which
it belongs.
The Eoyal Academy consists of seven schools of paint-
ing, sculpture, architecture, ornament, design, &c. &c.
With these memoranda of Florence the journal of their
residence alternately at Florence and at Pisa terminates.
Mr. Walpole's were not the only letters of interest ad-
dressed to the Miss Berrys at this time, which have been
preserved. The following extracts from Mrs. Darner's
letters give a lively and interesting description of her life
at Lisbon, and of her journey home; and a letter from Mr.
Brand, whose name appears in Miss Berry's journal of
1784, must also have been received just before they left
Florence.
Lisbon, Jan. 20, 1791.
. . . Though there are not many things to see at Lisbon,
there are some some respectable Gothic churches in particular
which will bear seeing more than once. One of the most ancient
it is horrid to look at almost totally destroyed by the earth-
quake, little else but the outward walls standing. This church
they are slowly attempting to rebuild in the Grothic style, but I
doubt the success. The Castle, formerly a Moorish palace, was
nearly made a ruin. You see here and there a bit of column
&c. stuck in little better than a mud wall, but this her Majesty
does not think of rebuilding. She has at immense expense
built a church, called the Convento Nuovo or the Coracao de
Jesu (the heart of Jesus), in the worst taste, adorned by many
colossal statues in the style of Bernini exaggerated. The works
* Miss Berry must allude to the Manx Arms of the three legs quartered
by the Duke of Atholl.
" t Philip Brunelleschi, born 1377 j died 1446.
334 LETTERS. [1791
of a Portuguese artist in this church, the great altar-piece, and
several others, are painted by Pompeo. One, by the Princesses
B j n this convent is the Queen's great favourite, a nun
recommended to her by her late confessor as a santa ; they say
really a shrewd, sensible woman, and spoken well of. There
were, they say, many fine pictures by the best masters, most of
them swallowed up or destroyed, some stolen and sold. At the
Marquis Pamela's there is one called a Kaphael, which it may
be ; it is very fine, but has been miserably painted over, which
I gained much credit by finding out, though it is as plain as the
nose in one's face. For to-day, farewell !
Lisbon, Jan. 31, 1791.
I returned from the morning party as much fatigued and no
more amused than I expected. It was to see armouries and
founderies, all of which I have seen and re-seen at other places.
I could not avoid going, as among other things I was to be
shown the model of the statue in the Great Place here. The
statue is colossal, of bronze, of Joseph I., the late King. It was
modelled and cast at Lisbon, and though heavy, really is not
without merit.
Monday morning.
Yesterday I got some letters by one packet, the other, as they
say, is coming. None from Mr. Walpole, and what Jerningham
writes to me quite sinks my spirits. The letter is of the 18th
Jan. He says that Mr. W. was detained at Strawberry by the
gout ; that he does not suffer, but that his hands are numbed,
and that he has no use of them. What his not suffering is
often, I know, and the rest is a sad uncomfortable account.
Why would he not let Kirgate write me a line from himself ?
This is the last date I can have now, and I may not hear again
before I leave Lisbon. I do hope to (rod that you will go to
him in the autumn. The thoughts of that will support him.
If you can, I know that you will. ... It will not now be
long before I leave this place, and all the first part of my jour-
ney I hope even to find the climate better than this. I mean
to set out the 21st; to go to Seville and Granada, see Cordova
and Toledo, the Escurial and II de Fonse. These are my chief
objects in this journey.
I rejoice that you follow your Latin so closely, and for your
1791] LIFE IN LISBON. 335
stupidity I shall say nothing. Even two months, with what
you already know, will do much. How very few ever read the
books most worth reading except at an age when they are not
capable of receiving any real satisfaction from them. Many
construe Homer, Virgil, Plato, and Cicero, but few read them.
With your taste, this will be a constant source to you even of
something more than amusement.
Lisbon, Feb. 17, 1791.
. . . My mules are on the road, and will be ready on
Monday next, and that evening or Tuesday I shall probably
cross the water, and begin my journey, and from the time I
leave Lisbon till I arrive at Madrid, I shall not have a single
letter.
. . . I will not talk of Mr. W.'s silence I cannot ; cer-
tain it is I pity him from my soul. He must have suffered
much. The letter you say you wrote to him he must have got
soon after I heard last from England. That will comfort him,
for I think that he will not pay much attention to your reasons
for staying in Italy, and though there is eight months of
absence to come, the hope of seeing you six months sooner, and
not passing another melancholy winter without you, will quite
revive his spirits. I am certain, whatever may be the event of
this miserable illness, that you will feel infinite satisfaction in the
marks of affection and friendship that you have shown him. . .
One suffers here so much unnecessarily from cold that it is quite
provoking ; for even now there are often hours in the day when
walking in the shelter, with the heat of the sun it is pleasant,
could one come home or go out to a good fire, but the houses
are insufferably cold. Every one complains, and no one attempts
a remedy. It is difficult to give an idea how much behindhand
we are here with the rest of Europe. You ask me in what their
luxuries consist. In sitting wrapped up in their cloaks almost
the whole day, playing with their maids and attendants, many
of whom are of a something better sort, like retainers bred in
the families from father to son, not forgetting dwarfs, foundlings,
and natural children. Such tribes ! there are many in the great
houses, eating comfortably many times in the day, ex gratia
cold fowls and hams in the morning, not forgetting the mirenda
in the evening, which, with the addition of dinner and supper,
helps to make the day pass ; growing fat of course, which all the
336 LETTERS. [1791
young women do at four or five and twenty. . T '. In gene-
ral, there is, I believe, no harm in them. They seem very good-
natured, and would be civil if they knew how ; but, as I have
before said, they leave their own national manners, and attempt,
most awkwardly, those of other nations. I like to see them, as
I have, sitting cross-legged in numbers in the churches, with
their nets, and their fine hair combed partly over their faces,
and the men, with their cloaks thrown gracefully over their
shoulders, leaning against the walls, or standing by them.
Coming to Portugal is really instructive to one who sees things
with the eye of an artist or an observer.
Vendas Novas, Feb. 25, 1791.
. . . Yesterday, I passed the water in the evening, as the
tide served at that time, and arrived at a small place called
Aldega Gralega, on the coast, at sunset. The inn being bad, I
was recommended to a private house. No house ever deserved
the epithet less, for my room was full, from the moment I came
till I got away, of the whole family, the padrone (a little shop-
keeper), the padrona de casa, all the children, and all the
maids, talking to me, staring at me, or kissing my hand. As I
turned them out of their room, and that everything they wanted
was in that room, even when they would consent to leave me,
there was every instant something to be fetched out of a drawer, or
a closet. To-day, drawn by seven mules, I have been composedly
travelling along an immense sandy plain sometimes through
woods of the most beautiful pines, always shrubs and plants,
that only really grow in fine climates. I am now settled in a
room wher'e (to be sure) there is not much furniture ; but I think
rather upon the whole better than one often finds in Italy.
Badajoz, Tuesday evening, March 1st.
I write to you from the first Spanish town and a dismal place
it is with neglected walls, from whence there is a distant view,
and ruined towers and castles of the Moors. Within these walls,
considerable remains at the top of the hill, that seem to have
been left and never repaired. To make up for this, there is a
beautiful bridge of twenty-nine arches over the Gruadiana. It is
simple and noble, built by the Romans. Elvas, the last town in
Portugal, is in perfect repair, to appearance, and a remarkably
pretty town. I wonder this does not make the Spaniards a little
1791] SEVILLE. 337
ashamed of this place, for these two towns are looking at each
other, and not above eight or nine miles distant. I arrived here
this morning without accident or difficulty, or any serious dis-
tress. My calessiere I like of all things ; he drives with Spa-
nish dexterity, and as to the carriage, with English care. I can
just keep up with my mules for an hour or so on foot.
Seville, Sunday morning, March 6.
I have been wishing for these two days to write to you, but I
have felt so fatigued with my journey through the Sierra Morena
that I could not take out my letter. I feel ashamed when I
complain, because this being a mere voluntary journey, the
answer must be, ( Tu 1'a voulu, Greorge Dandin.' However, the
real truth is, that I did not know the roads were impassable for
a carriage with four wheels. Nobody told me that there was any
real difficulty, otherwise, for a journey of mere amusement, I
would not have undertaken it ; but now it is over, I am glad. My
carriage has escaped, I hope, any very essential mischief that
may stop my progress, and I have seen some of the most beau-
tiful wild scenes that can be imagined, which, con rispetto, are
of all scenes those that delight me most. If there are moments
in my life when I breathe freely, without the oppression of
painful reflections when the world seems nothing to me, and the
idea of those I love everything it is in walks when I can undis-
turbed enjoy what is grand, beautiful, and awful in nature.
For near twelve miles before coming to a poor small village,
called Santa Oleio, was the Sierra Morena. Nothing can exceed
the beauty of the mountains. They are not very high, but rocky,
covered with shrubs, heaths, plants, and flowers, growing to a
wonderful height and size, and numbers of clear streams rolling
among the rocks and stones. It gives one the idea of an eternal
spring. You then come to an open forest of neglected cork trees
and Ilex, with such rocks, and such picturesque masses ! formed
evidently of the sand worn into a thousand shapes by the
streams of water and torrents, in a course of ages far, far beyond
our pitiful annals. The evening was delightful, and I walked
till I could walk no longer. The inn was a miserable place.
That I should not have minded, but so troublesome were the
people, and so noisy, that I got little repose till towards morn-
ing, when it was nearly time to set out, for a sad day, most of
which I was obliged to walk, and not paid for the trouble, as
VOL. I. Z
338 LETTERS. [1791
there is no beauty in the views. Such roads I really never saw.
Men, mules, everything were ready to die, and the expectation
of seeing the carriage broken to pieces, in an actual desert as
to assistance, was really quite disagreeable. However, owing to
the skill of the best driver, without exception, I ever saw, we
arrived last night safely at another small village, called Castello
Blanco, and this evening at Seville, all the bad road over.
The town, the dresses, the look of the people all is as com-
pletely different from anything I have ever seen, as I can wish,
and as diverting.
Granada, March 19, 1791.
I stayed one day longer at Seville than I intended, left it on
the 10th, and got here last night this, partly wishing to recover
my fatigues of the Sierra Morena, and partly from being charmed
with the town, and the softness of the climate. Its known an-
tiquity is interesting. The cathedral I think very fine; it is
gloomy, and the Gothic architecture simple ; full of the most
beautiful windows of painted glass. I happened by chance to
hear some good music there, which as it was by chance was the
more striking for, if I am to be dressed, stuck up, and stuffed
up to hear or see anything adieu all effect for me !
I was much pleased also with the Alcayas or Palace: the
Moorish part is admirable, and I feel myself at open war with
Mr. Swinburne,* whom I now think a very inaccurate writer, at
least as to his descriptions ; his history may be right for what I
know. Granada and the Alhambra by no means answer to his
account, I mean merely according to matter of fact, taste out
of the question. What the Alhambra has been it is easy still
to see, and it still is admirable, but miserably ruined, out of all
repair, and neglected. By his account I imagined that I was to
have seen great part of it as if the Moorish kings and their
queens had, hand in hand, just walked out of their palace. There
cannot be a greater admirer of Moorish style for the inside of
houses than I am. Were I a great king in a fine climate I
should copy it for my palace in the summer. However, though
Granada is not now all it has been, it is well worth the sacrifice
of a week to see, which is about the difference of time it makes
to me.
* Henry Swinburne, Esq., a traveller, wrote ' Travels through Spain ' in
1775, illustrated by drawings on the spot: died 1803.
1791] GRANADA. 339
I shall only stay to-morrow, but must return for two days
by the same road I came. I am in the greatest admiration of
many parts of Andalusia, and have found no difficulties since
Seville. The road really may be called good, except here and
there where it is rocky, and where torrents are quicker in their
operations than the king's officers in their reparations you
know how that is in many parts of Italy. I have had many
charming solitary walks, I may almost call them ; for when I
can walk away from the carriage, I forget it. Of the minor
evils, want of rest is the only serious complaint. The inns are
often very noisy. After being up ages before daylight, tired and
jumbled, one comes into an inn that looks uninhabited : four
white walls, a chair or two at most, and a deal table, on which
they set a lamp. One thinks it hard, by the time one's bed is
set up, one's things ready, that the house should grow lively,
voices and noises of various sorts continue till within a few
hours of the time to set out the next day. Yet this is really the
case, and whatever travellers may say, the roads and inns are
much frequented. I have found it to my cost. One night, when
I thought I was to sleep quietly, arrived, after I was in bed, the
Corrigedor de Granada, his wife, I know not how many signoras,
and a dozen servants, as many little dogs with bells, four or five
carriages : their supper was to be prepared. The talking, scream-
ing, and scolding was beyond imagination ; and then the next
morning, as I went down to my carriage, there was the Cor-
rigedor and his wife waiting at the door to see me, and expect-
ing that I should make them a compliment hope that they
had slept well, and wish them a good journey, which, as well as
I could, I did not omit. Everything, high and low in Spain,
expects to be spoken to ; they are not satisfied with a bow if you
are near them. No matter what one says, which for me is lucky
in Spanish, though indeed, with Italian and a little Portuguese,
one is sure to be understood. I confess that there is a cordiality
in this that I think pleasing, and there is something so dignified
and fine in the look of the common people, that I like to hear
them say to me, Condeos, which I translate, God bless you ;
and then they seem so pleased with the same attention. When
I say that the people are good looking, I mean the men ; they
are uncommonly genteel, and I admire their dress. In Andalusia,
they wear Montero cap and cloaks, and the same in Granada.
z 2
340 LETTERS. [1791
The women a black or white piece of silk or stuff over their
heads, much as they do at Venice. I find a great difference of cli-
mate between this place and Seville, a sharpness in the air to which
I am always sensible, and this must be the case, for the town is
almost close to that immense chain of mountains, the Sierra
Nevada, the tops of which are always covered with snow. . . .
Herrera, March 19th.
I left Granada, as I proposed, the day before yesterday.
Having in a second visit passed some hours in the Alhambra,
and examined everything over and over, I do not change my
opinion : it is curious and beautiful in its way, must have been
in its glory delightful, but is miserably ruined and neglected;
the only very evident repair is whitewashing, which without
the least mercy they have done in many and many parts, where-
ever the gilding and colours were less fresh. If the governors
take to this mode much oftener, those who wish to judge of
Moorish plaister-work and carving must make haste and take
their journey to Granada. ... I saw not a creature at
Granada, except a Spanish banker for five minutes. I have had
letters for all the places I was to stop at, but have avoided as
much as possible giving them ; the Portuguese and Spanish are
so very civil on these occasions I find, that it is to me of all
things the most embarrassing. However, I must, for the sake of
truth, say that, at Seville, I saw a gentleman who was very little
trouble, and gave me much real information ; but this cannot
happen often. I did not tell you what gave me a more than
common horror of being shovm civilities. Elvas being the
frontier town in Portugal, I was told to ask for a letter to the
Governor, that my baggage might not be stopped. This happened
to be a brother of old Mello's, who was in England many years,
and much at my father's house before you were born. Besides
giving me a letter, he chose by way of a fine thing to write to
the Governor his brother, who chose to order that I should be
received with the honours of war. Some miles from the town
I met a guard of thirty horsemen who escorted me, and I came
into the town, drums beating, trumpets sounding, and cannon
firing (it is literally true) ; was dragged to the Governor's house
instead of going quietly to my inn, and sat down almost instan-
taneously to a great dinner with a dozen or fourteen officers ;
they carried me all over the town, and witlj the greatest diffi-
1791] ARANJUEZ. 341
culty I got rid of the company in the evening by saying, what
was too true, that I was so much fatigued I must go to my
bed.
Aranjuez, March 30, 1791.
I have since I last wrote crossed the Sierra Morena, but by a
most magnificent winding road, began and made (they say)
within these ten years : it is cut in the solid rock, and I think
the finest thing of the sort that I have seen : how long it may
remain in this state of perfection, or rather how short a time, I
will not answer, for when rocks and torrents are concerned you
know how it is ; and in Spain they make a road and then leave
it, which ill agrees with the mutable state of this world. I have,
in general, dragged along a road sometimes, indeed, sandy and
sometimes stony, but of which there is nothing to complain,
since Cordova, and not much to admire ; at Anducar, however,
where I arrived early in the evening, I saw a fine ancient
bridge of sixteen arches, over the Gruadal quiver, of which I had
never heard a single word,, and some very curious remains of
Moorish towns, and walls round the towns. For four days I
travelled through La Mancha, which is, without exception,
the most odious, frightful country I ever yet saw ; a nasty,
dusty, sandy plain, without tree or shrub, with bare mountains
that scarcely deserve the name. Here I arrived last night,
within a day's journey of Madrid.
I have seen some charming antique statues in the garden of
this palace, treasures unnoticed and neglected here. There is no
expressing the fool I am when I see anything very fine quite by
surprise, which is much the case in Spain, for you are shoivn
nothing, nor can you get the least degree of information where
the arts are concerned. It has been the fashion in this garden
to make everything or anything serve as the ornament of a
fountain, and to my astonishment, sitting in the middle of a large
marble bason of water, did I see the most beautiful little Etruscan
bronze figure : it is one of those often repeated, which I am sure
you re collect, the boy taking a thorn out of his foot, but far su-
perior to any I have seen. In another there was a Venus, which
they call Diana ; another, the fountain of Apollo, because all
the figures and relievos represent the labours of Hercules (this
is modern) ; and so they go on.
342 LETTEES. [1791
Madrid, April 1, Friday morning.
I was interrupted by L d St. Helen's,* our Minister, and then
the Consul : the first is an agreeable man ; I have seen him
formerly at different times and places ; he is civil and obliging
and not in a troublesome way. Thank Heaven ! I have had a
letter from Mr. W., in his own hand, and I do believe that
he is recovering. I hear of him from all, and satisfactory
accounts. Poor dear man ! he says, f I am afraid to flatter
myself again about October ;' and then that he shall say no more
about it, and would not interrupt your content; but he does
natter himself, whether he knows it or not, by the indication of
his spirits flatter, it is not, I am well assured. I am glad you
like the Andrea so much, I always thought it one of the most
delicate and most elegant of compositions, and therefore one of
the most touching. When you have leisure, read some of
Cicero's letters to Atticus, his friend : they are very curious,
from being, at least in my opinion, so clearly written without an
idea of ever being made public ; and so natural, there you see
him with all his weaknesses and without disguise.
Escurial, April 10, 1791.
Waiting for a permission from Court to see this monastery, and
settling with my muleteers, delayed me till to-day.
. , . Such a detestable climate as Madrid, from what I saw, and
from what I heard, I believe would be difficult to find. I must
say that the ton of the society to which I found myself admitted
at Madrid was very grateful to my ears : this, perhaps, struck me
the more as (to you I may say it) there was scarcely anything
where I passed the winter that had not a tinge of vulgarity
or barbarism.
Valladolid, 16th.
I have been walking about the town, and by dint of civil looks
I suppose, for my speeches are, as you may think, tres-bomes in
Spanish, making my way into the cloister of a monastery of
Dominican Friars, where I saw some fine Gothic architecture and
other curious things, at the Escurial some divine pictures, and
at St. Ildefons some first-rate statues, besides the place itself,
' A11 Q 7 n *FitzHerbert, created Baron St. Helen's, in Ireland, 1791; and
'on St. Helen's in England, 1801; was employed in many diplomatic
itions of high importance in several of the European Courts
1791] SPANISH MANNERS. 343
which I think delightful like an enchanted castle. Had you
crossed Spain in my carriage, you would have been pleased, and
I do believe have thought little of inconveniences : I think I
could venture a journey with you. The elements have been
making such a pother over my head, such a storm of thunder
but it seems over the weather has been for some days soft and
charming. I am really now tired of seeing, which I cannot
help doing with attention, and should to the last, and tired of
travelling : I wish for quiet. Yet I am diverted with the idea of
passing through France, and curious to see it in its new state
(tecum loquor) : I shall be just as careful not to run my head
into any scrape, should the possibility occur, as if I was fright-
ened out of my senses.
Vittoria in Biscay, Wednesday, April 20, 1791.
... I have not found the roads by any means what they were
represented : the magnificent road they talk of is only made, that
is finished here and there, for a few leagues, and then you come
plump down, and are dragged through sands, or jumbled over
stones, for I know not how many miles more. The inns are
infinitely better, some really good, and the one I now write from
particularly so. A good room, a good fire, and a good bed, and
I shall for the first time quit my pallet since I left Lisbon. I
have now, I think, done with seeing in Spain, at least buildings.
The cathedral at Burgos is famous, as you probably know. Wish-
ing to see it thoroughly, and particularly the cloister, and not
being sure of the same indulgence I met with from my Domini'
can Friars at Valladolid, I went in L y Spencer's fashion, but
did not write my name : this dress, with the large cloak and
boots, is what, in point of decency, the bench of bishops could
not object to, and the next thing, comparatively, to the ring of
Gyges which, if I mistake not, made the wearer invisible, for you
pass unnoticed ; but an unfortunate Lady is persecuted to death. I
believe I never told you how I have been tormented, because I
often sit down to tell you one thing and a thousand others crowd in
upon my mind ... At Seville, the first day, I went outMressed
like a Portuguese, exactly as the women there walk : they called
me Francese, ran after me, and put me in no small passion. The
next day I met, as I told you, with my ephemerid friend, who
carried me all about in the Intendant's coach. Since that I have
commonly gone about in one of their vile mantillo's, a piece of
344 LETTERS. [1791
silk or linen thrown over the head and then crossed and twisted
round the waist, and let to hang down ; without this no woman, in
Spain, can go into a church, or indeed walk about a town. What
provokes me is, that putting on this odious thing, that you can
scarcely see or turn your head with, does not always do : the
moment you examine anything with the least attention, or look
higher than your head, which I suppose Spanish women never
do, you are discovered to be foreign, and a foreign Lady is so
great a wonder, that, from that instant, they follow you, get
before you, pursue and persecute you in a manner that far ex-
ceeds anything of the sort that I have ever seen in any other
country. The people in Spain do not seem to gain by civiliza-
tion ; for away from great towns, their manner is quite engaging.
I must return to my cathedral at Burgos, and tell you that there
are the finest remains of Gothic architecture I believe in the
world, at least of Gothic sculpture ; there is stone worked, and
that particularly in the cloister, in a manner and with a sharp-
ness and spirit that I did not think the material admitted of,
and two heads that are really fine ; foliage, without end, that is
quite admirable. I think I took a sort of lesson. Many things
in the carvings in wood, and in stone, that one sees is all old
Gothic, incomprehensibly strange and impossible to describe.
Bayonne, Sunday, April 24th.
I was interrupted by the most ridiculous personage that can
be imagined, a sort of Kagotin in figure, round, fat, with the
tightest silk dress, not a tooth, a mouth that went every way,
and the voice of a frog. ' Madame, je suis le Banquier, je
m'appelle de Broc, Maire de la ville.' Maire de la ville, and
Ipse Eex, for without this creature I could neither have money,
passeport, horses, nor permission to go out of the town. I saw
how it was, from his manner of announcing himself, and imme-
diately knew beforehand all his power and consequence. Before
the visit was over we were such friends that he gave me some of
his verses on & Fox, and if there is a corner in this letter, I
must send them to you, for I was delighted and desired to have
them. He is gone, he says, pour se mettre en quatre (which I
think he can well afford) for my service, and if possible I shall
furnished with the means of setting out to-morrow morning
I am much fatigued with the last days passed of my
]?91] LINES TO MR. FOX. 345
journey. The roads in Biscay, so much praised, are dreadfully
jumbling, almost entirely a sort of pavement ; and a pavement is
not only particularly disagreeable when rough, but really affects
me ; and what made this worse was the weather being cold with
an incessant rain ; it seemed as if for these two months it had
saved itself and been collecting to pour deluges with greater
violence. This made it impossible for me to walk at all. . .
Seven or eight days will bring me to Paris, where I shall hear
from you, and know if your horrid accident has had no further
consequence. I had no letter here from Mr. W., but a confirma-
tion of his good health from his sister, with whom he had dined.
I really think that he tries to persuade himself and you that
he can bear a longer absence in order to leave you at liberty
indeed he said what is to that effect in one of his last letters.
You understand that I mean by leaving you at liberty, that he
wishes not to take advantage of your kindness and good nature,
which he thinks may make you for his sake do what you dislike.
What is in my power you know that you may depend on. I
will endeavour to make him enjoy, by anticipation, the satis-
faction you prepare for him.
Bordeaux, Thursday morning 1 , April 28th.
... I only got here last night, owing still to the roads. Every-
thing seems perfectly quiet. Some bustle there has been at
Paris, but nothing to affect an insignificant traveller ....
P.S. A L'ORATEUR Fox.
Tel qu'un aerostat occupant 1'horizon,
Fox occupe au Senat le barre de Polymnee ;
L'un captive le feu, dans le char d'Uranie,
Et 1'autre le reprend dans la belle oraison.
My little Ragotin I cannot think of without an inclination to
laugh. Among other things, he told me that he had some very
fine tea, some of which he should send me ; 'then looking up,
and considering a moment, quite gravely added, 'Mais du
poncne je n'en ai pas, j'ai peur, je ne sais pas comment nous
ferons.' I assured him that I never drank punch, and was
remarkably fond of tea, which, however, luckily he never sent,
nor a national cockade which he offered. In the evening he
returned, and brought one of his clerks to read the gazette to
346 LETTERS. [1791
me, who read through his nose in the most ridiculous manner,
and he kept screaming to him, < Plus haut, monsieur plus
haut.' Quite a mistake I thought.
Paris, Tuesday night, May 3, 1791.
I tried to persuade myself that I was less alarmed about your
fall, because I so plainly saw the care and pains you took to
prevent my anxiety ; but your image, pale and bleeding, has
been continually before my eyes. I calculate the time when
it happened, and exactly believe that you think yourself no
worse than you say, and from thence derive much comfort.
My reason trusts that the danger of the accident is over ....
When I talked of being here by the 2 nd , I had, I know not
how, given April 31 days. I have made all the diligence I
could ; indeed I scarcely dare tell you that, for these five days,
I have been thirteen and fifteen hours de suite in my carriage,
after your kind injunction not to travel too fast, even when I
could, clattering and tearing along to the sound of words nobody
understands, instead of Jesu Maria, and the Santa Virgin e,
with a bow to St. Antonio upon a pinch.
Wednesday morning.
I this moment received your two letters. I wish that I could
express to you the satisfaction they give me. I do now feel
easy about your accident ; your health is better ; and every-
thing you say is calculated to please and comfort me
I rejoice that you have a letter so pleasing, from dear
Mr. W. You say most truly of friendship when the vas
est sincerus, nil acescit, and all comes right, when explained,
because all is meant right. I too have had a charming letter
from him, mostly on your subject. He says of your fall, ( I am
persuaded all danger is over of any bad consequence, and that
even the scar on the sweetest of all earthly noses (I never saw
the houris) will scarce be discernible by the first of November,
by which day they have vowed their return.' You see that you
have convinced him ; that difficulty is taken off my hands, and you
ee the effect of that conviction by the return of his own lively
style ... My telling you a foolish story of my Eagotin at
teyonne was at that time a little like les enfants qui chantent
ri quand Us out peur; but if you could laugh at my other
es, I think you will at that. I am quite pleased that any
1791] THE POISSAKDES OF PARIS. 347
of them should have diverted you both (when you learn Greek
you will know a certain dual number that would here be most
elegant) I made more visits yesterday evening than
I thought I had to make. Found for a long time only an old
grumpy man, who did not talk ce n'etait pas mon affaire. At
last I went to Mad me de Balbi, who I found a sa toilette, sur-
rounded by I know not how many people 1'Abbe Mauri among
others and talking of everything just as I could wish. Things
are essentially quiet at present ; little local disturbances as,
for example, the Pope was burned two days ago, dans toute les
fomnes, and the Spanish ambassador, who happened to pass,
desired to contribute to the bonfire, which he generously did,
and passed on. Many supposed the Nonce will leave Paris on
this ; others that he will not ; others that he need not, as it
was only le pewple.
M. Le La Fayette, as you probably know, after that dis-
turbance which was about the King's going to St. Cloud,
when they imagined he meant to make ses pdques in his
own way with the non-jurant priests, has again accepted.
All these things pass, and I am told nobody minds them.
They go about Paris, walk the streets, return at all hours, and
no harm happens ; indeed I see nothing for strangers to appre-
hend. Paris is much as usual, I think more entertaining,
though many certainly have left it, and are leaving it. I do
not pretend to say what it will or may be, but, for some time
I fancy, much as it now is. I shall go and look at the Champ
de la Federation from your descriptions, and to-morrow Mad me
de Balbi has offered to carry me to the Assemblee Nationale,
which, you may guess, I have not refused. I was determined
to see that somehow or other.
Calais, Tuesday morning, May 10, 1791.
I will finish my Paris history. Soon after I sent you my letter
from thence, I received a visit I little expected, and for which
I was quite unprepared. I had not even had time to dress my-
self on account of my letters ; in this state I heard a violent
noise in the ante-room of strange, vociferous sounds, and a pro-
digious bustle. The Poissardes, my maid, who looked not a little
alarmed, told me were there and insisted on coming in ; they
had brought me a bouquet and see me they would, and there
they were at the door. I guessed that a return for the bouquet
348 LETTERS. [1791
was the object, which my hair-dresser confirmed, and out I went
to them. Of the two evils the least, so I thought I had a better
chance of retreating than getting them out of my room, I con-
fess, as I have a horror of these illustrious personages, that in-
terieurement I felt much discomposed, however I thought, I must
put on a good face upon the occasion. I gave them six f cj ,
which they desired to have doubled, and then I hoped I was off;
but my amabilite I suppose was so great, that one of them pro-
posed to embrace me, and I really did not dare refuse, and
thanked my stars when it was over, that I was not to run the
gauntlet, for there were six or seven there, and I know not how
many in the court below. It seems that these ladies now make
a practice of going about where or to whom they please, toutes
Us fois que cela leur passe par la tete, and neither porters nor
servants dare stop them, for reasons I need not enumerate.
They go, and I suppose will go, to travellers in this way to get
money. The other day there being a report that Monsieur was
going away, they went to him in? a body, in number forty, to
know if this was true ; he was obliged to come out to them and
assured them, foi de Prince, that it was no such thing : with
this they were so much pleased that they all embraced him,
and insisted on seeing Madame and performing the same cere-
mony, which was granted. I was assured of the truth of this ;
and a French lady I cannot doubt, told me that they often came
to her, and she gave them something more to be excused ; that
I would willingly have done, you may believe, but my thoughts
were not so bright.
I went to the Champ de Mars ; but all is destroyed, and a
new altar, &c., for the annual ceremony just beginning. In
the evening I went to the Theatre de Monsieur. Pray, if
you have not already, see it ; I mean for the coup d'ceil ; it
is remarkably elegant, and out of the common way, and some
of the figures, though I believe . executed in paper, finely
modelled. The next day, thanks to Mad me de Balbi, who
has been so uncommonly civil to me without my having the
least right or title to expect it, I saw the Assemblee Nationale
without trouble or fatigue, on which to you I need make
no comments. Most extremely glad I am to have seen it, for
it is, as you'observed, what one cannot form any idea of. She
had invited me to dinner, and afterwards a friend of hers came
1791] MRS. DAMER'S RETURN. 349
in, whom I had not seen since the first time I was at Paris. He
remembered that I had seen him and where, a sort of memory
that I believe belongs to that station ; his manner is obliging
and gentle, and he seems not to be without information : all this
together made me feel a great degree of pity. Her house or
appartements is of that degree of perfection, for taste and con-
venience, that you have seen at Paris, but never elsewhere so
completely. Afterwards in a drive, which I took by myself to
the ruins of the Bastile, I made many reflections on all that
had passed before my eyes that day ; returned to my hotel, and
the next day set out. If I did not tell you, you will see by my
account, that I found all those I knew at all particularly, gone.
They say that Paris in point of numbers is not much diminished,
but it is much changed in that of names. I began to think
yesterday that my adventures were not over, for on the road
and at Boulogne they told me that there was a quarrel here be-
tween the English and French captains of the packets, and that
none of ours were suffered to take passengers ; others, that none
were there ; and, in short, a thousand things, that there was no
making head or tail of. ....
London, Friday morning, May 13.
Waiting a day at Calais, and a long passage the next, prevented
my getting here till last night. I got to town between ten and
eleven, stayed at my father's, where I had been figuring to my-
self that I should find them either at home, or expected to sup-
per. Perhaps dear Mr. Walpole alone, sitting by the fire, as I
often have, waiting their arrival. I drove up to the door; out
came my mother's maid, saying, e Nobody at home ! ' they were
gone to my uncle Frederick's to pass the evening, and the car-
riage not ordered there till twelve. This was not what I wished ;
but still I could not give up seeing them, and go composedly
home to bed. I was in a state when no fatigue is felt. Away I
drove to Arlington Street. How many coaches I saw there I can-
not tell, but so many that I began to be doubtful what I should
do : aalf vexed, half angry, that things went so little to my
fancy, to consider if I should go up stairs, or not, among so many
people. A loud knock, which my servant gave at the door,
without my order, brought Lady Frederick down stairs : in an
instant out I flew, my mother and father followed her, and at
350 LETTERS. [1791
the top I saw Mr. Walpole. He seemed and is as well as ever ;
I perceive no difference, not thinner, less lively, or less all that
you left him, or all that you can wish, so at least he appeared
to me last night. If I see any reason to change my opinions I
will tell you with sincerity ; you never shall have a sort of m$-
nagement from me, that I dislike so much myself from those and
about those I love.
From Mr. Brand :
Mentz, Mayence, Magonza, August 19, 1791.
It is true that I began to be very impatient at not hearing
from you, and was actually stepping into the carriage on leaving
Carlsruhe when I receiv'd your letter. I was very much con-
cern'd to find you had been so ill. Heav'n avert relapses !
I need not assure you how happy your letter made me. I
prefer such insipid stuff, as you modestly call it, to all the
accuracy and elegance of your Cicero to his Atticus. The least
vibration of the heart is worth the completest gratification of
the understanding. Before I venture upon anything that may
seduce me into long descriptions and digressions, I shall give
you an account of our probable motions, in hopes that we may
be able to fix our rendezvous. We leave this place to-morrow,
and shall get to Munich about the 31 st . We shall stay there a
fortnight, and after that at Saltzburg, which will bring us to
Inspruck about the 22 d of September. We can either wait there
till your arrival, or meet you at Verona. Verona will be the
most likely place to meet you. Indeed, I should prefer it. The
country of Catullus and Paolo Cagliari, and E/omeo and Lance
is infinitely better suited to our elegant minds than a vile
German town, which can never have produc'd anything beyond
an abbess or a commentator, a juris-consult, or a music-master
to a piping bullfinch. Yet dare not I promise too much for
my young lordling, who will perhaps be impatient to run away
from Munich as he was from Carlsruhe, from his unfortunate
anxiety to try whether a new place can dispel his constant
ennui. We are now at the most northern point of our tour. I
feel a powerful attraction towards England, but alas ! Diis
alit&r visum.
Frankfort, 21st.
We have here found letters which will probably oblige us to
1791] ENGLISH VISITORS AT FRANKFORT. 351
stay a few days at Katisbon, but this will make very little
difference in our plan, as it may perhaps abridge our stay at
Munich.
After I wrote to you from Zuric or Lucerne, we had most
wretched weather, which not only made the remainder of our
scheme uncomfortable, but even prevented a material part of
it, the passage of the Monte Aquila from Feldkirch to Inspruck.
We were therefore oblig'd to take the direct road of Augsburg,
where we found the little Baron, who was most active in
showing us civility, gave us sour krout and chevreuil, and
introduc'd us, not only to his own chapter, but to a chapter
of Chanoinesses. On these chapters I could write a curious
chapter, but it would perhaps be as well suppress'd. We
stopp'd a day at Stutgard, where we saw a regiment of meagre
ill-made giants, none less than 7 feet high, and vast repositories
of horses, carriages, and Traineauz. The last are worthy of
curiosity. They are made in every sort of whimsical form, and
the caparisons of the horses of heavy embroidery, surrounded
with thousands of little silver bells, put you in mind of the
pomp of Amadis and Esplandion, or the dreams of Comte
Hamilton. We were unlucky at Carlsruhe. The Margrave and
all the family were on the point of leaving it for some time,
but we had two dinners and a supper before they went. Much
as I detest Courts, I regretted their departure. The Margrave
speaks English as well as you or I, and with the language seems
to have imbib'd the steady sense and simplicity of the nation,
not but that he has had his tmvers, and had I not seen and
conversed with him, I should have been tempted to insert his
name in the registers of Moria, for he was once tinctured with
magnetism and Lavaterism, but good sense prevail'd, and he
now blushes at the name of Mesmer, and perhaps still more at
that of Gablia-dore. Perhaps you are unacquainted with this
gentleman or lady, for I know not of which sex it is, or whether
of any. But it is the name of Mr. Lavater's familiar, his sylph,
the regulator of his sympathetic correspondence with the true
' Illumines,' &c. &c. ! I felt great attraction towards the Heredi-
tary Princess, not from her beauty, but from her ease, affability,
and good sense. You would take her daughters for charming
Englishwomen, they might be your sisters; and the young
Julius is as fine a curl'd-pated wild nankin boy as ever you saw
352 LETTERS. [1791
roll on an English carpet or frisk upon a lawn. We found
there two English families, a Col. and Mrs. Gibbs and two Miss
Gibbs, good unaffected people, and a Mrs. Philips and her
daughters, who are collecting flames in Germany to set Bath in
a future blaze ! But the most valuable acquaintance I made was
a Prussian lady, whom I admire much, and for whom I have
conceiv'd that delicious sentiment which is more moderate than
love and warmer than friendship, the same which I have long
felt for other worthy personages in a still greater degree, tho' they
neither of them speak so well the language of music, that lan-
guage so persuasive to my frame, as Madame de Madeweis. . . .
Ainsi soit-il ! Carlsruhe and its environs are very pleasant, but
horribly infested with gnats, not that they are the worst plagues
which torment the Margrave and his firstborn. A swarm of
more offensive insects have beset him, and tho' I dare say, like
the Pharaoh of Egypt, he would part with his jewels of silver
and jewels of gold to drive them into the wilderness, it is im-
possible. Need I say that these are the Refugies aristocrats ?
All we had seen in Italy, compared to those of Carlsruhe, are
Platos in reasoning and Socrateses in moderation ! The whole
country from thence to Mayence is full of white cockades, but
they are all officers, and there is not even a shadow of that
army which sounds so formidable on the other side of the Alps.
They seem to me to wait for the contre-revolution as Jews for
the coming of the Messiah ! We spent three days very pleasantly
at Mayence, where we were recommended to Comte Stadion, a
Chanoine of the metropole, by his brother the Imperial Minister
in England. Were all canons like this, my chapter would be
worth reading !
Tho' there is little faith to be put in the accounts we hear,
yet I believe you had better not venture thro' France, The
article of money is very troublesome; you can get none, and
you can carry none away. My paper fails me, or I could tell
you of the great Tun at Heidelburg, of an English youth who
made a German commit suicide from jealousy, &c. &c. . . . As
we did not go to Inspruck, I could not execute Gianfigliazzi's
commission there. I will beg you to tell him that the innkeeper
at Coire will take care to procure I/ Clive some seeds of the
pine he mentioned, but they will not be ripe time enough to
send them by you
1791] JOURNAL. 353
I must put this in a cover. I believe it will not cost a baiocco
more ; if it does, I will give you a choice anecdote of the K. of
Naples 'richly worth it. The Due of Wurtemberg, among his
other treasures at Stutgard and the neighbourhood, has a re-
markably fine breed of cattle in one of his parks. They had
the honour of a visit from their Neapolitan Majesties, with a
vast suite of hommes and dames d'honneur of Naples and
Wurtemberg. Lo Re was in extasy ! f Dio benedetto ! ' says he,
and in the enthusiasm of admiration, ran to a very beautiful
cow, seiz'd her dug with rapture, and whilst the Queen was
blushing with shame and indignation, and the Wurtembergers
were ready to die of stifled laughter . . . the cow was most
royally milk'd ! ! What a pendant for Cincinnatus with a plough
in his hands !
My best comp ts to M r Berry. . . . Adieu, my dear friends !
Accept my thanks for your correspondence, and my sincerest
wishes for your happiness. Yours most faithfully,
T. B.
Miss Berry's journal of their return home from Florence
is little more than travelling notes, which show the facili-
ties and difficulties of travelling on the Continent at that
time.
JOUENAL.
Saturday, September 1.1 th. Left Florence with a voi-
turier. The view from Maschiere beautiful. The voiturier
engaged to carry us to Bologna in two days.
Sunday, ISth. About a mile and a half from Loiana
the perch of our carriage broke almost in two ; luckily
the body only fell forward upon the box, and we all got
out without being either frightened or hurt ; luckily,
also, there was a sort of blacksmith's shop a solitary
cottage in a valley just below where the accident
happened, and from thence the people came running up
with wood and cord, and they and the voiturier, and
some occasional passengers upon the road, helped to get
VOL. I. A A
354 MISS BEERY'S JOURNAL. [1791
it tied up together, so as to be able to drag it along.
This operation lasted nearly three hours, during which
time we were sitting guarding the trunks and luggage by
the wayside. When at last it was en etat de marche, we
walked on before to Loiana, and, finding it was impossible
it could bear our weight within, we took at the post two
little sort of caleches, such as the peasants use to go to
market, and, after a thousand delays, got post-horses to
these conveyances, leaving one servant to come on slowly
with the coach, my father and I, with Joseph, in one, and
my sister and the maid in the other. We proceeded to
Pianora, and from thence to Bologna, where we arrived
about eleven o'clock at night.
We were kept near an hour at the gates, till the keys
were sent for to the vice-legate a ceremony which
seems to mean nothing more than giving five pauls to the
corporal upon guard, which I should think might be con-
trived in a manner less troublesome to travellers.
Monday, 19^. Our carriage came up at eight o'clock
in the morning, and not more broken, which was all we
could expect. In the evening arrived Mr. and Mrs. Legge
and Mr. Gianfigliazzi, to comfort us in our misfortunes.
Sent to the Chevalier Poggelini, whom we had seen at
Florence, to recommend a coachmaker to us. Came
himself, and offered us his services. The man he
recommended was out of town, and did not return till
the next day (Tuesday), and the day after (Wednesday)
being a fete, it could not be touched till Thursday ; he
promised, however, to let us have it on Saturday even-
ing, and, contrary to my expectations, on Saturday
evening it came, finished, to the inn. We made no
bargain beforehand, as our friend the chevalier pro-
mised to settle that matter for us. The man's bill was
thirty-two sequins we paid twenty-seven ; for this
country it was tolerably reasonable.
Monday, 26*. Left Bologna for Ferrara ; the roads,
1791] FROM PADUA TO STERZING. 355
ifter the twenty-four hours' rain, heavy stiff mud, in a
country as flat as Leicestershire. At Cento we were
obliged to wait till the horses were refreshed, as there
were none others, and the poor tired beasts could hardly
even make a trot, the road worse and worse near
Ferrara.
Tuesday, 27th. Eeached Padua. After crossing the
river, the clay was half-way up to the axles of the wheels ;
the six horses never went out of a walk. We were six
hours and a quarter coming eighteen miles.
Thursday, 29th. Left Padua. Arrived at Venice in a
barge, drawn by a horse on the bank, till we came to
Fusina, when another lighter bark, with four rowers, took
us in tow. Much time lost on the canal at the different
locks, of which there are five or six.
Thursday, October 6th. The road from Padua to
Vicenza good. The inn at Vicenza very good ; paid for
the apartment fifteen pauls. Inn at Verona very good.
Sunday, $th. Left Verona. Between Volargone and
Peri ascended a very steep hill, the Clusi, with an old
ruined fort at the bottom, which in fact shuts up the
valley c Between Peri and Ala twice stopped by the
custom-house. The Venetians have no right to demand
anything on going out of their dominions ; on entering
those of the emperor, they give a bulletin for four or five
pauls, and search nothing. Arrived at Trent.*
Monday, Wth. Left Trent about 7 A.M. No horses
to be had at Botzen ; f obliged to stay there all night.
Tuesday, llth. From Botzen to SterzingJ the road
so excellent, that with anything but German postilions one
might go eighty or ninety miles a day. The road from
i
* One of the most important cities in the Tyrol the Tridentuni of the
Romans. The chief products around it are wine and silk.
t Now one of the most flourishing commercial towns in the Tyrol.
J A very ancient town ; on the site of the Roman station Vipetenum.
A A 2
356 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1791
Botzen beautifully romantic, always winding round the
bottom of a highly-cultivated and much-peopled valley,
with a river, sometimes narrow, sometimes broad, running
through.
Wednesday, 12th. Left Sterzing. Arrived at Inspruck.
The country, the whole way from Botzen, becomes at
every step more strikingly beautiful ; the road good, and
no great ascent till Sterzing. From thence to Brenner is
a continual steep ascent, for which we were obliged to
take six horses. The situation of Inspruck, in a large and
richly-cultivated valley, as seen from the mountain we
descended, very beautiful. The town itself has a sort of
air of German magnificence wide streets and large un-
couth palaces.
Saturday, 15^. Left Inspruck. Arrived, in twelve
hours, at Leermoos. Detained at Nassereit for want of
horses. The country from Inspruck more beautiful and
romantic than any other part of the Tyrol that I have
seen.
Left Leermoos. Arrived at Kaufbeeren in eleven
hours. At Fiissen a large convent.* On the other side of
Flissen we passed a gateway and sort of fortification
which shuts up the pass of the mountains. The moun-
tains here begin gradually to diminish, and after Stettin
the country is open and only gently waved. We set out
with four horses, but between Fiissen and Stettin took
two more from a village.
Sunday, ~LQth. Arrived at Augsburg about mid-
day. The road, the whole way, through a beautifully-
cultivated and much-peopled country ; the villages
frequent, all clean, well built, and with an appearance
of perfect comfort ; and in each village is to be seen one
or more large good-looking inns.
* The most remarkable building in the town is the sequestered Abbey of
St. Magnus, now the property of Prince Wallenstein. Vide Murray's
Handbook.
1791] ULM. 357
The whole Tyrol, indeed, is most justly celebrated as
well for the beauty of the country as for the comfortable
appearance of the inhabitants. If its mountains are less
sublime than those of Savoy, they are more cheerful and
better cultivated. There is a ruined castle upon the
top of a little island in a small lake, surrounded by high
wooded mountains, between Nassereit and Leermoos,
that is fit for the residence of an enchanted princess in
a romance. As the road winds round, one sees it in a
thousand different and picturesque points of view.
There is another castle,* upon a hill between Fiissen
and Stettin, less ruinous but fully as romantic. The cul-
tivation in the Tyrol is so neat, and the turf so beauti-
fully fine, that the road for many miles between Inspruck
to Augsburg looks like a drive through the best-kept
park one ever saw. No vines after leaving Sterzing.
Tuesday ', 1.8th. Left Augsburg, f Arrived at Ulni in
ten hours ; the road excellent, through a finely- waved,
open, well-cultivated, and much-inhabited country ; the
pavement of all the little towns abominable. Baron
d'Hornstein had left Augsburg, and got to the first post in
time to have breakfast prepared for us.
Ulm is a considerable old town, most of the houses what
is called in England post and pan ; the streets wide, but
very irregular and horridly paved. The cathedral, which
is a Lutheran church, is in the inside very pretty Gothic,
and imposing from its great length ; J the spiral sort of
ornament over the pulpit beautiful.
Wednesday, 19th. Left Ulm. Arrived at Moeskirch
* The Castle of the Bishops of Augsburg stands on a rocky height ; it is
still tolerably perfect, retaining much of the splendour of a baronial resi-
dence of 1 the 14th century. It now belongs to the king. Murray's Hand-
book.
f A city now of upwards of 31,000 inhabitants : above 18,000 Roman
Catholics, and above 11,000 Protestants.
| Considered one of the six finest Gothic cathedrals in Germany j begun
in 1377, and continued down to 1488. Murray 's Handbook.
358 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL. [1791
in twelve hours ; the road very rough, and through a
flat uninteresting country; the posts, too, are badly served.
Thursday, 20th. Arrived at Schaffhausen. The road
from Moeskirch to Stockach* very rough and bad, and
through an ugly country ; we did not go three miles an
hour. Stockach is a clean-looking town ; the road better,
and the country finely wooded. Vines again cultivated ;
great vineyards about Schaffhausen.
3 Friday, 2lst. Left Schaffhausen at 8 A.M. ; arrived at
Waldshutf about 4 P.M. The situation of Schaffhausen is
romantic and beautiful; the ground rises round it on
every side. About half a mile from the town, turned out
of the road to go to the famous fall of the Ehine. Being
in our own loaded carriage, we did not carry it farther
than the village, about half a mile out of the road. A
caleche, or any light carriage, may go down quite to the
water's edge. We walked, and looked at it first from
above and then from below ; and then walked round the
sort of bay that it makes to the spot where there are two
or three strange uncouth coggling sort of boats to ferry
over to the other side. Here one mounts a very steep
bank to a chateau situated directly over the fall, and
which, indeed, greatly adds to the beauty of the scene.
From the summer-house of this chateau is seen a view of
the fall from above ; but the really striking, the truly
magnificent, view is from a little sort of redout under
the high bank on which the cMteau stands, and from
which the water is precipitated. One is here in a manner
under the fall, and sees it passing with a degree of violence
and rapidity which at first almost turns one's head ; but
it is by far the most splendid view the only one, indeed,
where one has a just idea of the whole, and the only one
where one has a just idea of the prodigious body and
* A town of 1,300 inhabitants, three miles distant from the Lake of
Constance.
t A walled town on the outskirts of the Black Forest.
1791] FROM BASLE TO LANGRES. 359
force of water. It is, I think, certainly less beautiful, less
picturesque, than that of Terni or even of Tivoli, and
certainly gave me less pleasure ; but from this point more
sublime and more magnificent. The water, they said, was
uncommonly low, which of course makes a considerable
difference.
Saturday, 22nd. Arrived at Basle.
Monday, 24:th. Left Basle. About a league from Basle
we were stopped and asked if we had no contraband ;
and on answering in the negative, and giving the man
half-a-crown, were allowed to proceed ; no passport or
permission asked for anywhere, nor who nor what we
were. The posts well served, and the road, though hilly,
good. Belfort is a small ville de guerre,* at which we
saw all sorts of uniforms. Eeached Lure,
Tuesday, 26th. Arrived at Fayl Billot in eleven hours
and a half. The roads from Lure to Pont-sur-Soane
abominable, with great holes and large pieces of rock
laying in them ; it is wonderful how any carriage escapes
breaking.
Yesoul, the only town we passed to-day, a neatish-
looking small place. All the villages particularly ragged
and wretched-looking, and the country open and un-
interesting.f
Wednesday, 2Qth. From Fayl Billot to Bar-sur-Aube
in twelve hours and a half. They have the best materials
for making roads upon the whole route ; and if they had
not been much neglected for these two years past, would
be some of the finest in France. Langres is a considerable
town, mean, and badly built. J The country this whole
day bare and uninteresting, the cottages and villages very
thinly scattered and very miserable.
* Fortified by Vauban.
t Vesoul is now a town of more than 6,000 inhabitants.
J Langres is an ancient town, mentioned by Csesar. It is now a sort of
French Sheffield, and produces the best French cutlery.
360
MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL.
[1791
Thursday, 27th. From Bar-sur-Aube to Nogent in
eleven hours and a half ; the roads admirable. At Granges
the pave begins. Troyes is a large old-fashioned ill-built
town, with a finely-ornamented front to the Gothic cathe-
dral.* Between Pont-sur-Seine and Nogent are two fine
chateaux, and these, with another shabby one we passed
yesterday, are the only chateaux within sight on the
whole road from Basle.
Friday, 28th. Left Nogent at half-past 4 A.M., and we
should have arrived at Paris by 2 P.M., for the roads were
good, the posts short, and the driving quick; but at
Guignes the fore-axle was discovered to be broken nearly
through ; it was vilely patched together with two iron
hoops, which broke before we had gone two miles, and we
were then obliged to get out to relieve the coach of our
weight ; the weak part was bound up with straps and
ropes, and sent on slowly to the next post (Brie-C te -Eobert),
whilst we walked to Coubert, the first village, above a
league distant. There we waited in a little auberge till
a cabriolet from the post was sent, and into this we all
four crammed ourselves, and arrived at Brie about four
o'clock. Finding our coach had got on so far without
breaking more, we agreed with the post-mistress for four
horses to carry it on slowly into Paris with one servant,
and taking her cabriolet for ourselves, with the other
servant on horseback. We arrived in this conveyance at
half-past seven at the door of the Hotel d 'Orleans at
Paris. Here I thought all our troubles would end, and
that we were sure of an apartment point du tout It
was all full. I then bethought me of the Hotel de Bourbon
close by, 'in the Eue Jacob : thither we drove, and got a
comfortable enough apartment au premier, consisting of
three pieces and an ante-chamber, at the rate of three
and a half louis a week.
* In this cathedral, May 20, 1420, our King Henry V. was affianced to
the Princess Catherine ; and on the following day was signed the Treaty of
Troyes. Murray's Handbook.
1791] LETTER FEOM MR. WALPOLE. 361
On the 17 tli of September, according to Miss Berry's
Journal, they had left Florence. The first letter addressed
to them by Mr. Walpole on their homeward journey was
dated September 5th, and directed to Venice.
Strawberry Hill, Sept. 5, at night, 1791.
I write on my intermediate post-day, both to overtake you,
and to apologize for the lamentations in my last, tho' I had not
even imputed the cause of them to you. That letter perhaps
you will not receive.* On Friday the 2 d , the morning on which
my letter had gone to town, I received y rs of the 7 th and 9 th
of August, with the very order for changing my direction, but
it was too late to recall mine ; I am less surprised at y rs being
so long as 23 or 24 days on the road, for I believe it had been
opened, the seal being quite flat, and scarce any mark of im-
pression left. Another proof of its having been delayed, is, that
on Saturday I received a second of the 15 th of August, and they
certainly ought to have arrived at once.
The last contains a charming letter from my Agnes, and both
this and the former contain deserved encomiums on Mr. Lock,f to
which I totally agree. He has as much modesty as genius, which
is saying that he is the most modest genius in the world ; and his
virtues are as uncommon as both. I am overjoyed you have
met him ; and now I shall be impatient to have him see the
copy of his Wolsey, which I am sure will surprise and strike
him, as much as the original did us. He little thinks that his
new scholar is worthy of being his rival. In y r letter of the 9 th
there was a word which I could not read, or at least not under-
stand. You say Mr. Lock coloured a drawing in black lead
with a stump, or, a thump, and advised Miss Agnes to use the
same method either nostrum applied to the black lead, I
suppose, had the effect of Prussian blue, and made the draw-
ing black and blue, which may assist connoisseurs in knowing
hands ; but I own I do not wish to have y r sister practice that
mode of sketching ; nor should like to be told, ' I am sure this
was doie by your wife's fist. 9 It would not be of a piece with
her or Mr. Lock's indolence. Hers I certainly would not have
* The letter alluded to, and numbered by Mr. "Walpole 50, was perhaps
never received, as it is neither in the printed nor in the MS. collection.
f Mr. Lock of Norbury.
362 LETTERS. [1791
her conquer at the price of a headache ; nor would have you both
venture travelling too soon in the great heats. Great as my
impatience to see you both, you surely know that my impa-
tience is doubled by my alarms about y r journey.
Lally s'est ravise prudently in suppressing his pamphlet ; it
would not be popular here, where the Demonocratic Stock is
wofully fallen. The sober Presbytyrants are ashamed of Priestly
and his imps ; and tho' they would burn the houses of others,
they would not like to venture their own ; nor is the distress of
France inviting. Barnave and Lameth may have tried to nego-
tiate with the Princes, but having miscarried, if they did attempt
it, their being desperate will produce more violence. I should
think they had tried, as I see Lameth has lately been outrageous
yet I am told that when the Chevalier de Coigny presented
himself (on that errand) to the Comte de Provence, whom he
found in a circle of exiles, and desired a private audience,
Monsieur said, ' Tous ces Messieurs sont mes amis, et je leur
dirois d'abord tout ce que vous me diriez.'
Madame de Stael is returned to Paris ; her husband an-
nounced his King's commands of affiching tristesse : elle s'en
est moquee and sees everybody. Her father is said to be follow-
ing her with a new plan of Constitution and Finance, both
which no doubt he can more easily settle now that both are
fifty times more difficult than he could at first when he had all
the power of the Crown, or the second time when he was the
idol of the people. Everybody has seen his incapacity but
himself, and his restless vanity and ambition of a name will
make his name a proverb of ridicule. He always puts me in
mind of the Gunnings. The D 83 of B. is having her house new-
painted, and retired to her niece Mad, de Kutzleben. The
Gunnings went and took her away, and have carried her to
their lodging in St. James's Street ; yet cannot make even the
newspapers talk of them.
As this departs on Tuesday, it is not likely I shall have any-
thing to add on Friday ; therefore my next you will probably
find at Basle ; as you had better wait a few days and find one
arrived before you, than wait longer for one to recall, or to be
sent after you. I fear we must mutually prepare for disappoint-
ments while you are on the road, and I will remember, if I can,
to be prepared ; but I think impatience about you two is the
WALPOLE'S SOLICITUDE. 363
quality on which 74 has had the least effect ! I wonder you
had not heard of y r tenant's retreat, for your housekeeper told
Philip ten days ago that y r house was ready for you and so
will Cliveden be.
I assure you the provocations given by the Eevolutionists
were so far from being exaggerated by the newspapers on the
Court's side, that much worse was suppressed than has been ever
told, nor was any other care taken by the Grovernment till the
approach of the 14 th of July had made every precaution neces-
sary, and had even kept away from the Crown and Anchor every
man of any consequence, even of the Opposition. All the coun-
try newspapers and evening posts had been hired by the Faction.
Remember, I never warrant my news, unless I speak very posi-
tively : I have told you that Truth died a virgin, and left no
children ; and often when she herself is said to be here or there,
it is as untrue as that King Arthur is still alive, or St. John in the
Isle of Patmos. I did I think everything but prove that Perkin
Warbeck was the true Duke of York, and had not been mur-
dered in the Tower ; but as he was beheaded afterwards as pub-
lickly as the Duke of Monmouth, I do not believe he is still
living, tho' Mons r de Saintfoix chose the latter should have been
the Masque de fer, but forgot the best argument in defence of
that hypothesis, which was, that the Masque de fer was to con-
ceal the loss of the Duke's real head. Adieu !
The next, dated September llth,* is directed to Basle,
and full of anxiety as to their journey: 'Accidents,
inns, roads, mountains, and the sea are all in my map ;
but I hope no slopes to be run down, nor fetes for a grand
duke.'
Those of September 16th and 25th, also directed to
Basle, have only been published in part.
[Strawberry Hill, Friday night late, Sept. 16, 1791.
Yesterday was red-lettered in the almanacks of Strawberry and
Cliveden, supposing you set out towards them as you intended.
The sun shone all day, and the moon all night, and all nature
for three miles round looked gay. Indeed, we have had nine or
* Published in 1846.
364 LETTERS, [1791
ten days of such warmth and serenity (here called heat), as I
scarce remember when the year begins to have grey, or rather
yellow, hairs The setting sun and long autumnal shades
enriched the landscape to a Claude Lorrain. Gruess whether I
hoped to see such a scene next year. If I do not, may you !
at least, it will make you talk of me !]
The Johnstonehood dined here on Wednesday, and Lady
Clack, and some Kichmondians. The first family depart for
Bath tomorrow : the good general is not at all well, and falls
away much. The Marchioness of Abercorn is dead, and the
Marquis of Blandford literally married,* malgre the duchess.
The papers of to-day say Mons r de la Luzerne is dead, but
Madame de Boufflers did not know it last night. I have heard
nothing, nor probably shall learn more in town on Monday,
whither I shall go for two nights on business.
The gorgeous season and poor partridges I hear have
emptied London entirely, and yet Drury-lane is removed to
the Opera-house. Do you know that Mrs. Jordan is acknow-
ledged to be Mrs. Ford, and Miss Brunton to be Mrs. Merry,
but neither quits the stage. The latter's captain, I think,
might quit his poetic profession without loss to the public.
My gazettes will have kept you so much an courant, that you
will be as ready for any conversation at y r return, as if you had
only been at a watering-place in short, a votre intention, and
to make my letters as welcome as I can, I listen to and bring
home a thousand things, which otherwise I should not know I
heard. . . .
Sunday, noon.
I this moment receive y rs of Aug. 29th, in which you justly re-
prove my jealousies and suspicions of y r delaying y r return, at the
moment you are preparing to make such a sacrifice to me, as I am
sensible it is. I do not defend or excuse myself; but alas! is it
possible not to have doubts sometimes, when I am not only on the
very verge of 75, but, if I have a grain of sense left, must know
how very precariously I retain this shattered frame ? Nay, my
dragging you from the country you prefer, would be inexcusable
were self my only motive. No, beloved friends, I am neither in
George Marquis of Blandford, afterwards 4th Duke of Marlborough,
married September 15, 1791, to Susan, daughter of John Earl of Galloway.
1791] WALPOLE'S FEARS FOR HIS FRIENDS. . 365
love with either of you, nor, tho' doating on y r society, so
personal as to consult my own transitory felicity to y r amuse-
ment. The scope of all I think and do is, to make y r lives more
comfortable when I shall be no more ; and if I do suffer the
selfish wish of seeing you take possession, to enter into my plan,
forgive it ! Mr. Berry does not as a father meditate y r happi-
ness more than I do, nor has purer affection for you both ; nor,
tho' a much younger man, has he less of that weakness that often
exposes old men. I am vain of my attachment to two such un-
derstandings and hearts ; and the cruel injustice of fortune
makes me proud of trying to smooth one of her least-rugged
frowns ; but even this theme I must drop, as you have raised a
still more cruel fear ! You talk uncertainly of y r route thro'
France or its borders, and you bid me not be alarmed ! Oh !
can you conjure down that apprehension ! I have scarce a grain
of belief in German armies marching against the French, yet
what can I advise who know nothing but from the loosest
reports. Oh ! I shall abhor myself yes, abhor myself if I
have drawn you from the security of Florence to the smallest
risk, or even inconvenience. My dearest friends, return thither,
stay there, stop in Swisserland, do anything but hazard y r selves.
I beseech you, I implore you, do not venture thro' France, for
tho' you may come from Italy, and have no connection of any
sort on the whole Continent, you may meet with incivilities and
trouble, which even pretty women, that are no politicians, may
be exposed to in a country so unsettled as France is at present.
If there is truth in my soul, it is that I w d give up all my hopes
of seeing you again, rather than have you venture on the least
danger of any sort. When a storm could terrify me out of my
senses last year, do you think, dearest souls, that I can have any
peace till I am sure of y r safety ? and to risk it for me ! Oh !
horrible ! I cannot bear the idea !
[Berkeley Square, Monday night, 19th.
I have been making all the inquiries I could amongst the
foreign Ministers at Eichmond and here in town, and I cannot
find any belief of the march of armies towards France. Nay,
the Comte d'Artois is said to be gone to Petersburgh, and he
must bring back forces in a balloon, if he can be in time enough
to interrupt your passage thro' Flanders. One thing I must
366 LETTERS. [1791
premise, if, which I deprecate, you should set foot in France, I
beg you to burn and not bring a scrap of paper with you. Mere
travelling ladies, as young as you, I know have been stopped,
and rifled and detained in France to have their papers examined,
and one was rudely treated, because the name of a French lady
of her acquaintance was mentioned in a private letter to her,
tho' in no political light. Calais is one of the worst places you
can pass, for as they suspect money being remitted thro' that
town to England, the search and delays there ^re extremely
strict and rigorous. . .
Tuesday.
I am told that on the King's acceptance of the constitution,
there is a general amnesty published, and passports taken off.
If this is true, the passage thro' France for mere foreigners and
strangers may be easier and safer ; but be assured of all. I w d
not embarrass y r journey unnecessarily, but, for heaven's sake,
be well informed. I advise nothing. I dread everything where
your safeties are in question, and I hope Mr. Berry is as timor-
ous as I am. My very contradictions prove the anxiety of my
mind, or I should not torment those I love so much ; but how not
love those who sacrifice so much for me, and who, I hope, for-
give all my unreasonable inconsistencies. Adieu ! adieu !]
[Strawberry Hill, Sept. 25, 1791.
How I love to see my numeros increase ! * I trust they will
not reach 60 ! . . .
It is now, I think, certain that there will no attempt against
France be made this year still I trust that you will not decide
till you are assured that you may come thro' France without
trouble or molestation; and I still prefer Germany, tho' it will
protract y r absence.]
Pray write me nothing but notes on y r journey, with ' We
arrived here last night perfectly well ; have caught no colds nor
accidents ; and set out to-morrow for our next stage.' Adven-
tures, I hope, you will have none to relate ; and you shall not
be writing when you are fatigued, very hot, very cold, or very
hungry. This civilly calls itself a prayer, but is a command
and if I open a letter, and see more than three lines, I shall be
* Mr. Walpole had numbered all his letters written to Miss Berry while
abroad.
1791] WALPOLE ON TRAVELLING. 367
alarmed, and think some mischief has happened, and then I
shall not know what I read, till I read the whole letter over
again, whi.cn has been the case several times since you went,
as after the storm, after y r fall, after your fever and I believe
oftener but those are the great epochs in my almanack.
Mrs. Darner came hither from Goodwood last Thursday, staid
all Friday, went to town yesterday, returns hither next Friday,
takes Madame de Cambis to Park-place on Saturday, and the
next day I shall follow them thither. This is the sum total of
my history, and I believe everybody's else at least, to my
knowledge. I have not a paragraph of politics for Mr. Berry-
nay, I am sure there is none, for my neighbour at the foot of
the bridge was here this morning, and had nothing to tell me,
but that Mr. Stevens is just coming out with his Shakespear.
I said ' S r , if he does not come in, it is perfectly indifferent to
me when he comes out.'
[I am sorry you was disappointed of going to Valombroso.
Milton has made everybody wish to have seen it ; which is my
wish ; for though I was thirteen months at Florence (at twice),
I never did see it in fact I was so tired of seeing when I was
abroad, that I have several of those pieces of repentance on my
conscience when they come into my head and yet I saw too
much, for the quantity left such a confusion in my head, that
I do not remember a quarter clearly. Pictures, statues, and
buildings were always so much my passion, that for the time I
surfeited myself; especially as one is carried to see a vast deal
that is not worth seeing. . . .]
Monday, 26th.
I am alarmed again ! I heard at Eichmond last night that
Ld. Binning has a relation just come thro' France, who was
searched and very ill-treated, so I revert to y r coming thro'
Germany, whence I am persuaded there will be no movement,
all the rodomontades issuing, I believe, from Calonne's brain,
which can produce armed Minervas, but not one Mars. I repeat
ifc, and you may be confident of it, that I had rather hear you
was returned to Florence, than have you expose yourselves to
any risk anywhere and I do now heartily repent my soliciting
y r return. I wish I had prevailed as little there as I did against
your journey ! but you have friends in Swisserland why not
remain with them for some time ? France may grow tranquil
358 LETTEES. [1791
on the King's acceptance and the general amnesty ; and as En-
gland is at perfect peace with them, and will certainly remain
so, they will undoubtedly encourage, not discourage, English
travellers. Well I may you be inspired with what is best for
you ! I shall only weary you with my anxiety. Adieu !
The next letter, of October 3rd, was addressed to
Augsburg.
Park Place, Monday, Oct. 3, 1791.
I had exhausted Basle, was at the end of my map, and did
not know a step of my way farther, when on Saturday I was so
happy as to receive two letters at once, bidding my pen drive to
Augsburg. Your dates were of the llth and 16th September,
and you was to leave Florence on the morrow. I do not won-
der at Mrs. Legge* for liking to accompany you to Bologna;
but tho' my justice can excuse her, I do not love her a bit the
better for detaining you two days, for which I am sure of being out
of pocket in November. With more days I shall part with plea-
sure, if, as you seem to intend, you prefer the road thro' Grer-
many, provided Brussels is quite tranquil, which the newspapers,
which I never believe but quand il s'agit de vous, represent as
still growling. I hope Mr. Berry has no more courage than I
have, but will listen, like a hare in its form, to every yelp even
of a puppy.
I trust you have received my letter in which I explained that
I never thought of your settling at Cliveden in November.
When I proposed your landing at Strawberry, it was because I
thought your house in Audley Street was let till Christmas ; and
I remembered your description (for what do I forget that you
have told me ?) of how uncomfortable you found yourselves at y r
last arrival from abroad. A house in which you would be as
much at home as in your own, would be preferable to an hotel
mais voila qui est fini. I did, and certainly do still hope, that
when you shall have unpacked y r selves, shall have received and
returned some dozen of double kisses from and to all that are
delighted to see you again, or are not, you will give a couple of
days at Strawberry, that on the morning of the second I may
* Wife of Heneage Legge, Esq., of Aston in Staffordshire. She, with
her husband, had been spending all the summer at Florence and in its
immediate neighbourhood. M.B.
1791] WALPOLE'S HOPES AND FEARS. 369
carry you to, and install and invest you with, Cliveden. To that
day I own I look with an eagerness of impatience that no words
would convey, unless they could paint the pulse of fifteen when
it has been promised some untasted joy, for which it had long
hoped and been denied, and which seldom answers half the ex-
pectation ; and there I shall have the advantage, if I live to
attain it for my felicity cannot but be complete if that day
arrives !
Here is nobody but Mrs. Darner and Madame de Cambis, and
I am glad there is not. I shall return home on Wednesday, and at
the end of the week shall hope to receive a direction farther, but
scarce, I doubt, shall know so soon that your final determination
on y r route is fixed. The company is come in from walking,
and I should not have time to write more if I had wherewithal,
but the totality of my intelligence is bounded to the death of
Lord Craven, who this morning's Reading paper says is dead, of
which an express came last night, and it is probably credible,
as his house is so near Reading. The moment the courier
arrives at Lisbon, I suppose the new Margravine* will notify
her marriage and accession to the devout Queen of Portugal,
who will bless herself that she is made an honest woman if
a heretic can be so. Adieu ! adieu !
In the last published letter of Mr. Walpole's to the
Miss Berrys on their journey, dated October 9th,f and
directed to Augsburg, he sums up his great anxieties ; to
which he adds :
[It will be a year to-morrow since you set out. ... I
have still a month of apprehensions to come for both ! All
this mass of vexation and fears is to be compensated by the
transport of your return, and by the complete satisfaction on
your installation at Cliveden. But could I have believed that
when my clock had struck 74, I could pass a year in such
agitations !]
On the 28th of October Mr. Berry and his daughters
reached Paris, and here, unfortunately, during their short
* Elizabeth Berkeley, Lady Craven.
t Published in 1846.
VOL. I. B B
370
LETTERS. [1791
stay, the Journal ceases. The only entry made in one of
Miss Berry's note-books, relating to Madame de Stael,
betrays some little feelings of mortification at the change
that had taken place in her former acquaintance's manner.
We returned from Italy to Paris the end of October 1791,
and found her the Swedish Ambassadress in the Rue de
Bac, in the height of her passion for Talleyrand. Sup at her
house, invited by her husband, who sees us every day. She,
too much occupied with her passion de s'apercevoir de mon
existence.
The two following letters were directed to Brussels, and
forwarded to Paris ; the third and last was addressed to
Paris.
Strawberry Hill, Sunday, Oct. 16, 1791.
You had said you would write from Padua if you found a good
opportunity ; but I have not received a letter thence ; I am not
much disappointed, as. I saw I had only a chance; and besides
have prepared myself for miscarriages, while you are on the
road, resting my consolation on the trust of seeing you soon, and
knowing that from Venice every mile will bring you nearer. I
call a month soon, but only with reference to the twelve that
are gone. That month may be composed of five or six weeks
and my impatience is not apt to treat my Almanac with super-
numerary days but I will add a codicil of philosophy to the
eagerness I have betrayed, in hopes of effacing some of it, and
making a better impression against we meet !
Having no letter, and no direction beyond Augsburg, this
will be an adventurer without credentials, and will take its
chance for your finding it at Brussels. Having no other busi-
ness than merely to welcome you so far, it shall be brief. News
I have none, nor will you have missed any by being on the
road.
The dowager Lady Emngham is dead and makes a vacancy in
the Queen's bedchamber, which it is supposed will be filled by
the younger Lady Ailesbury, Lady Cardigan, or Lady Howe.
Mrs. Jordan, whom Mr. Ford had declared his wife and pre-
sented as such to some ladies at Eichmond, has resumed her
former name, and is said to be much at a principal villa at
1791] WALPOLE ROBBED BY A SERVANT. 371
Petersham, which I do not affirm far be it from me to vouch
a quarter o what I hear. If I let my memory listen, it is that
I may hav</some ingredients for my letters, and to which you
are apprised not to give too much credit, tho', while absent, it
is natural to like to hear the breath of the day, which at home
you despise, as it commonly deserves.
Berkeley Square, Tuesday, 18th.
I am come to town suddenly and unexpectedly ; my footman
John had pawned a silver strainer and spoon, which not being
found out till now, as it had been done here, he ran away in the
night, and I have been forced to come and see if he had done no
worse, which I do not find he has and I want another footman in
his room. I received yours from Padua and Venice last night,
but with no further direction. I had begun this, and now cannot
finish it, for the post is going out, and by coming so unexpected,
I have neither ink nor pen to write with, as you perceive but I
will write again on Friday if I receive any direction.
Berkeley Square, Oct. 20, 1791.
I wrote to you a very bit of a letter, but two days ago, in a great
hurry from being in fear of being too late for the post from
various clashing circumstances. This therefore is but the second
part of that letter, or rather an explanation of it. I think I did
tell you that I was come to town on a sudden, one of my footmen
having pawned a little of my plate and run away This was very
iirue, and a woful story, as you will hear but I had other mo-
tives. I have had for some time a very troublesome erysipelas
on my left arm. Mr. Grilchrist, my apothecary at Twickenham, is
dangerously ill at Tunbridge. Dreading to be laid up where I
had no assistance nor advice, I determined to come away and
did which has proved fortunate. Mr. Watson, my oracle, at-
tends my arm, and it is so much better that I passed the evening
yesterday at Mrs. Darner's, with Lord and Lady Frederic Camp-
bell, Mrs. and Miss Farren, Lord Derby, and Miss Jennings,
and staid there till past twelve but now comes the dreadful
part of my story !
As I rose out of bed, Philip told me he would not disturb my
rest last night, but before I came home, a messenger had arrived
from Strawberry to say that at five yesterday in the evening one
B B 2
41
O/
LETTERS. [1791
of my gardener's men had in my wood-walk discovered my poor
servant John's body hanged in a tree near the chapel and already
putrified ! so he must have dispatched himself on the Friday
morning on which he disappeared I had then learnt to my
astonishment that he had not even taken away his hat with him,
and had dropped down from the library window, a dangerous
height ! All this it seems was occasioned by the housekeeper, as
she always does, locking all the doors below as soon as she knows
everybody is in bed and thus he could not get his hat out of the
servants' hall if poor soul ! he did look for it probably not !
This remain of shame and principle goes to my heart!
happily for me, I had not even mentioned to him the discovery
that had been made of his pawning my plate, and Philip and
Kirgate had urged him in the kindest manner to confess it on
Thursday evening, which he then would not but a few hours
afterwards owned it to the coachman, and told him he would go
away. I since hear that he had contracted other debts, and
probably feared all would be found out and he should be
arrested and thrown into prison by me I am sure he would not,
for I had not even thought of discharging him but should rather
have tried by pardoning to reclaim him, for I do not think he
was more than eighteen ! nay, on Thursday evening, after I
knew the story, I had let him go behind my coach to Richmond
as he used to do, and had not spoken a harsh word to him.
I beg y r pardon for dwelling on this melancholy detail, but
you may imagine how much it has affected me. It is fortunate
for me I was absent from Strawb : when the body was found. Ear-
gate is gone thither this evening to meet the coroner to-morrow ;
the corpse was carried into my chapel in the garden I shall cer-
tainly not return thither before Monday at soonest. My greatest
comfort is that I cannot on the strictest inquiry find that even
an angry word had been used towards the poor young man. I
may be blamed for taking his fault so calmly but I know how
my concern would be aggravated if a bitter syllable from me had
contributed to his despair !
I have written all this, that you may know the exact situation
of my mind, and because I conceal nothing from you, and lest
from the abrupt conclusion of my last, you should suspect I was
ill. The impression of the unhappy accident will wear off, as
I neither contributed to it, nor could foresee it nor prevent it.
1791] WALPOLE'S ANTICIPATIONS AND FEARS. 373
I talk of nothing else to you, because, except of you, as you
see, and of y r journey, I have for these five last days been
occupied only by that adventure, and by my own arm. I write
to Brussels still, as I compute that this must arrive there before
you ; but to-morrow or Saturday I shall hope for another letter ;
and amidst my distresses I am not insensible to the hope of
November having a most happy sera in store for me ! Adieu !
Adieu !
P.S. As I understand that you do not go to Basle, but have
ordered the letters sent thither to meet you at Augsburg, here
are my dates, that you may know whether you receive all. To
Venice, Sept. 6 ; to Basle, Sept. 12, 20, 27 ; to Augsburg, Oct.
4, 11; to Brussels, 18, 20.
Berkele}' Square, Oct. 27, 1791.
Nobody could be more astonished than I was last night ! Mr.
C. and Lady A. are in town for a few days, and I was to sup
with them after the play at Mrs. D.'s, whither I went at nine,
and found her reading a letter from you, saying that you should
be at Paris to-day, the 27th. I did not know whether her eyes
or my ears had lost their senses ! I had had no letter from you
after your first from Venice, and was reckoning that you would
be at Brussels by the beginning of next week. To think you
are so near me to-day gave me a burst of pleasure ; but it was
soon checked. I am not sure you are there! Can I be sure
you have arrived there without any embarras ? can I be certain
that while you stay there everything will remain as quiet as it
has done lately ? I have no reason, it is true, to apprehend the
contrary ; but Reason's logic is lost against Affection's assertions,
and you may guess whether I can be overjoyed at y r being at
Paris or anywhere that is not as tranquil as the Fortunate
Islands !
My next surprise, tho' marvellously inferior, is, that tho' you
have received all my letters, even the 5th, you should still ask
Mrs. D. whether I wish you to land at Strawberry Hill first. I
think I have over and over explained that I do not wish it ;
nay, thought it would be very uncomfortable to you, till you had
unpacked y r selves, seen some few persons, adjusted y r family,
&c. ; nay, if your arrival were known, and that you are not in
London, you would be tormented with letters, notes, questions,
and after that be still to rest and settle y r selves. To-day I have
74 MISS BERRY'S JOURNAL, [1791
had the satisfaction of three letters at once from you, from
Venice, Inspruck, Augsburg. Mr. Watson has consented to let
me go to Strawberry for two or three days, where I have left
my family, my bills unpaid, &c. ; and if I did not settle those
things before the moments of expecting you, I should be in a
confusion very inconvenient and distressing. I shall now finish
all my business, return to Mr. Watson, and be well and quiet,
and fit to receive you, first here in town, and then at Straw-
berry, and have the installation. Be assured that this plan is the
safest and best I can form ; and as you know how earnest I am
to be well at y r return, you may be certain I would do nothing
to counteract a plan that has been rooted in my head and heart
for twelve months. Pray do not reprove me for it ; your reproof
would not be in time to stop me; and as I trust you will find
me quite well, tho' much older than you would expect in a year,
let all my faults and impatience be forgotten, that our meeting
again, which I doubted might not happen, may be as cloudless,
as to me, I am sure, it will be much greater happiness than I
thought could fall to the lot of seventy-five !
I reserve all answer to y r three last letters till we meet, when
we may talk of them and of all you have seen and done. At
present nothing occupies me but y r actual residence and
route home, and y r passage from Calais to Dover : we have had
tremendous storms lately ! I shall grow very sea-sick towards
the tenth of next month ! Adieu ! I hope this will be my last to
the Continent, and that I shall not even reach to No. 60.
JOUKNAL.
Monday, November 1th. Left Paris at half-past 6 A.M.
Beached Ereteuil at 4 P.M. ; the road the whole way very
good. A number of handsome chateaux on every side
between Clermont and Paris. Met three English carriages
going to Paris.
Tuesday, Sth. Left Breteuil. Eeached Montreuil in thir-
teen hours ; the roads excellent, and the posts well served
Wednesday, 9tfi. Left Montreuil. Arrived at Boulogne
1791] SAFE EETURX HOME. 375
in four hours and a half. The master of the hotel there
persuaded us that, both the wind and tide being fair for
us, we should have a shorter passage thence than from
Calais ; we stopped, therefore, at his house, but we had
missed the morning tide by about an hour, and must
therefore wait till between ten and eleven o'clock at night,
so we resolved to go on to Calais. Finding the wind
tolerably fair, and it being full moon and a fine night,
agreed to sail at eleven o'clock, when the tide served.
Left the Lion d' Argent at half-past nine, as one cannot
get out of the gates, even on foot, after that hour. Sat
about an hour in a little dirty house on the port. Entered
our vessel a few minutes before eleven ; got under way.
The wind fell about midnight, and we were obliged to lay
to for a considerable time. Landed at Dover pier at half-
past nine o'clock on Thursday morning. Paid for the
packet five guineas and one guinea for the carriage ; gave
two guineas to the captain (Sayer) and crew. Left Dover
at 3 P.M. ; arrived at Canterbury at six.
Friday, \\th. Beached North Audley Street in about
ten hours.
Mr. Walpole's anxiety for the return of his friends had
induced them to alter their plans and give up their inten-
tion of remaining abroad during the winter. It was a
kind sacrifice ; and even if he had been a little unreason-
able in his wish for their return, it was a very proper
sacrifice for those in the flower of youth to make to the
feelings of so warm a friend, on whom the infirmities of
age and disease had sorely pressed during their absence.
Mr. Walpole had provided for their reception the former
abode of his friend and neighbour Kitty Clive ; and
4 Cliveden,' as he calls it in his letters, though better known
now by the name of Little Strawberry Hill, became from
that time till long after his death the country residence of
the Miss Berrys and their father.
376 LETTEES. [1791
On December 5th, the month following their return,
Mr. Walpole's nephew George, third Earl of Orford, died,
and the title, 'with a small estate loaded with debt,'
devolved upon him. The inheritance was far from wel-
come. In a letter to a friend, he says he does not under-
stand the management of such an estate, and is too old to
learn.
[A source of lawsuits amongst my near relations, endless
conversations with lawyers and packets of letters to read every
day, and answers, all this weight of new husiness is too much
for the rag of life that yet hangs about me.]*
Mr. Walpole's (now Lord Orford) anxious wish for the
return of his friends, and for their establishment at Clive-
den, appears to have been made the subject of some
offensive observations in a newspaper. The anonymous
writer evidently inflicted much pain by this unprovoked
attack on those whose lives and actions were as strictly
private as they were blameless ; and the correspondence
to which these paragraphs gave rise are touching proofs
of the deep and delicate affection entertained by Lord
Orford for his young friends, and of the high-spirited
indignation with which Miss Berry repudiated, for herself
and family, such unworthy or interested motives as had
apparently been attributed to their friendship for one to
whom every grateful attention on their part was due.
From Lord Orford.
Oct.
You have hurt me excessively ! We had passed a most agree-
able evening, and then you poisoned all by one cruel word. I
see you are too proud to like to be obliged by me, tho' you see
that my greatest, and the only pleasure I have left, is to make
you and y r sister a little happier if I can ; and now, when it is
a little more in my power, you cross me in trifles even, that
would compensate for the troubles that are fallen on me. I
* Vide Letter to John Pinkerton, Esq., Dec. 26, 1791.
1791] MISS BERRY'S INDEPENDENT SPIRIT. 377
thought my age would allow me to have a friendship that con-
sisted in nothing but distinguishing merit you allow the vilest
of all tribunals, the newspapers, to decide how short a way
friendship may go ! Where is your good sense in this conduct ?
and will you punish me, because what you nor mortal being
can prevent, a low anonymous scribler pertly takes a liberty
with y r name ? I cannot help repeating that you have hurt me !
To Miss Mary Berry.
From, Miss Berry. -
! Friday night, Oct. 12.
I did not like to show you, nor did I myself feel while with
you, how much I was hurt by the newspaper. To be long
honoured with your friendship and remain unnoticed, I knew
was impossible, and laid my account with ; but to have it
imagined, implied, or even hinted, that the purest friendship
that ever actuated human bosoms should have any possible
foundation in, or view to interested motives ; and that we, whose
hereditary neglect of fortune has deprived us of what might,
and ought to have been our own, that we should ever afterwards
be supposed to have it in view, or be described in a situation,
which must mislead the world both as to our sentiments and
our conduct, while our principles they cannot know, and if they
could, would not enter into. All this I confess I cannot bear ;
not even your society can make up to me for it.
Would to God we had remained abroad, where we might
still have enjoyed as much of your confidence and friendship,
as ignorance and impertinence seem likely to allow us here.
Even Cliveden, which sensible as I am to the compliment of
settling us near you, I declare I consider as our least obligation
to you, if it is always to be foremost in the eyes of the world,
and considered as the cause of our affection for, and attentions
to you. If our seeking your society is supposed by those igno-
rant of its value, to be with some view beyond its enjoyment,
and our situation represented as one, which will aid the belief
of this to a mean and interested world, I shall think we have
perpetual reason to regret the only circumstance in our lives
that could be called fortunate. Excuse the manner in which I
write, and in which I feel. My sentiments on newspaper notice
have long been known to you, with regard to all who have
378 LETTEES. [1791
not so honourably distinguished themselves, as to feel above
such feeble, but venomed shafts.
Do not plague yourself by answering this. The only conso-
lation I can have is in the knowledge of your sentiments, of
which I need no conviction. I am relieved by writing, and
shall sleep the sounder for having thus unburthened my heart,
(rood night.
From Lord Orford.
Dec. 13, 1791.
MY DEAREST ANGEL, I had two persons talking law to me,
and was forced to give an immediate answer, so that I could not
even read y r note till I had done and now I do read it, it
breaks my heart ! If my most pure affection has brought grief
and mortification on you, I shall be the most miserable of men.
My nephew's death has already brought a load upon me that I
have not strength to bear, as I seriously told General Conway
this morning. Vexation and fatigue have brought back the
eruption in my arm, and I have been half an hour under Mr.
Watson's hands since breakfast ; my flying gout has fallen into
my foot ; I shall want but your uneasiness to finish me. You
know I scarce wish to live but to carry you to Cliveden ! But I
talk of myself when I should speak to your mind. Is all your
felicity to be in the power of a newspaper ? who is not so ? Are
your virtue and purity, and my innocence about you ; are our
consciences no shield against anonymous folly or envy ? Would
you only condescend to be my friend if I were a beggar ? The
Duchess of Gloucester, when she heard my intention about
Cliveden, came and commended me much for doing some little
justice to injured merit. For your own sake, for poor mine,
combat such extravagant delicacy, and do not poison the few
days of a life, which you and you only can sweeten. I am too
exhausted to write more ; but let y r heart and y r strong under-
standing remove such chimeras. How could you say you wish
you had not returned !
To Miss Mary Berry.
I am in the utmost anxiety to know how you do. I dread
lest what I meant kindly should have made you ill. I saw the
struggle of both y r noble minds in submitting to oblige me,
and therefore all the obligation is on my side. You both have
1791] WALPOLE'S GENEROSITY. 379
made the greatest sacrifice to me ; I have made none to you
on the contrary, I relieve my own mind whenever I think I can
ward off any future difficulty from you, tho' not a ten thousandth
part of what I would do were it in my power. All I can say is,
that you must know by your own minds how happy you have
made mine, and sure you will not regret bestowing happiness
on one so attached to you, and attached so reasonably; for
where could I have made so just a choice, or found two such
friends ? What did I not feel for both ! Your tears and Agnes' s
agitation, divided between the same nobleness, and her misery
for your sufferings, which is ever awake, would attach me more
to both, if that were possible. Dearest souls, do not regret
obliging one so devoted to you it is the only sincere satisfaction
I have left ; and be assured that till to-day, I have, tho' I said
nothing, had nothing but anxiety since y r father's illness, so
impatient have I been for what I received but yesterday !
Adieu !
To Miss Berry.
380 LETTERS. [1792
LETTEES.
1792.
Miss DERBY'S only entry for the years 1792 and 1793
is 'Kemaining generally at Little Strawberry. Went in
the summer for three months to Yorkshire to see my
grandmother.'
In the month of May 1792, Lord Orford, writing to
Lady Ossory, speaks thus of his favourites, Miss Berrys :
[May 29, 1792.
I am indeed much obliged for the transcript of the letter on
my ' wives.' Miss Agnes has a finesse in her eyes and counte-
nance that does not propose itself to you, but is very engaging
on observation, and has often made itself preferred to her sister,
who has the most exactly fine features, and only wants colour
to make her face as perfect as her graceful person : indeed,
neither has good health, nor the air of it. Miss Mary's eyes
are grave, but she is not so herself; and having much more
application than her sister, she converses readily, and with great
intelligence on all subjects. Agnes is more reserved, but her
compact sense very striking and always to the purpose. In
short, they are extraordinary beings, and I am proud of my
partiality for them ; and since the ridicule can only fall on me,
and not on them, I care not a straw for its being said that I am
in love with one of them people shall choose which ; it is as
much with both as either, and I am infinitely too old to regard
the quCen dit on.]
The same fear of being supposed to have any intention
of marrying gave rise to the following lines :
EPITAPHIUM VIVI AUCTORIS, 1792.
An estate and an earldom at seventy-four ! i
Had I sought them or wish'd them, 'twould add one fear more L
That of making a Countess when almost fourscore. J
1792] PAEODY OX THE CREED. 381
But Fortune, who scatters her gifts out of season,
Though unkind to my limbs, has still left nie my reason ;
And whether she lowers or lifts me, I'll try
In the plain simple style I have liv'd in, to die :
For ambition too humble for meanness too high.
Miss Berry warmly participated in the sentiments o
horror and indignation, so vividly expressed on all occa-
sions by Horace Walpole, at the atrocities of the French
Eevolution ; and though the taste of parodying the Creed
can only be excused by the general laxity of expression in
those days on serious subjects, the point and justice of its
well-merited satire cannot be denied.
[August, 1792.
I believe in the French, the makers of all fashions. I ac-
knowledge their superiority in conversation, and their supremacy
in dancing. I believe in their fanaticism for what is new, not
in their enthusiasm for what is great, and I expect neither con-
sistency in their plans nor constancy in their sentiments. I
believe in the King, the weakest and most injured of mortals,
and in the Queen, as equal to him in sufferings and surpassing
him in understanding; and in the Dauphin, whose kingdom
will never come. I believe equally in the folly of the Princes,
the baseness of their counsellors, and the cruelty and madness
of their enemies.
I expect neither the resurrection of order, nor the regene-
ration of morals, and I look neither for the coming of liberty,
nor the permanence of their constitution. Amen !]
382 LETTERS. [1793
LETTEES.
1793.
LORD ORFORD'S letters of this year to the Miss Berrys have
been preserved, and, with the exception of the following,
dated May 29th, were addressed to them during their
visit of three months to their relatives in Yorkshire :
Berkeley Square, April 1 (old style), May 29 (new style).
Tenez, mon Enfant, il n'y a que Moi qui ai toujours raison.'
Was not I in the right to take a fancy to Dumourier ? He has
declared himself Duke of Albemarle ; and sent to the Regicides,
that all the armies France can raise now, w d not be able to
resist the mighty powers coming against them ; that there must
be an end of folly, and kingly government must be restored.
The Municipality got wind of his intentions, and stormed the
National Assembly, demanding vengeance on Dumourier. They
answered they were apprised of his treachery, and had actually
named Commissioners to fetch him to justice, with many bloody
resolutions. Those five Commissioners, of whom Bournonville
was the chief, arrived, and were instantly clapped in chains by
Moncke the second, and sent by him, with his compliments, to
General Clairfait, only desiring a receipt for them, which he
granted, and has sent them to Mons.
Dumourier harangued his army, whose pulses, to be sure,
he had previously felt ; and tearing his tricolor cockade out
of his hat, took a white one from his pocket, and hoisted it
above his damaged laurels, and was followed by the whole army,
at least with bits of white paper; and he and they are on full trot
to Paris, denouncing bitter revenge for any mischief that may
ensue there. I hope this menace will not have the conse-
quences that the Duke of Brunswick's had ! The notorious chiefs
will probably prefer the Dauphin for King to the Pinchbeck
Regent, or carry him and the Queen away as hostages to the
South ; but what may one not fear from the brutal madness of
the mob !
1793] WALPOLE'S ELATION AT FRENCH NEWS. 383
You may depend on what I have been relating. Gren. Con way
heard the particulars from S r Eob. Keith, who has seen L d
Auckland's letter, which cites Clairfait's dispatch to Metternich
Governor of Brussels. Macbride has sent the same account
from Ostend, and a like is come from Dunkirk.
As soon as I heard the news, I went to the Due de Fleury, and
to the Duchesse de la Tremouille, who was dressing, but her
servant said the Due de Choiseul had been before me, and I met
Mad. de Grand going to her. I called on Mrs. Buller, too, but
she and her bishop are gone to Windsor. On you, you may
swear, I called, not expecting to find you, but as you are to
come at six I shall come up to you soon after, but write this for
you to find, that I may have the pleasure of being the first to
acquaint you with such welcome news. Oh, it is not the small-
est part of my joy that the brave et loyale Noblesse Francoise
will now leave us. I hope we shall not be to help reinstate
them ; nor desire to have Aquitaine and Normandy again when
the High Allies are paying themselves for their trouble and
expense by dismembering that Monarchy, as I am persuaded and
trust they will do, especially as the King of Prussia and Dantzig
has declared he will not. A bauble or two, such as a Pitt's
Diamond, might he accepted here, if they were not already gone
the Lord knows whither. Adieu ! for half an hour.
In spite of Lord Orford's frequent asseverations that his
admiration and affection for the Miss Berrys never passed
the boundaries of friendship, it was hardly to be expected
that he should always make others view his devotion to
their society in the same light. The following extracts of
Miss Berry's letter at this time to a friend show how
warmly she rejected the idea of ever acting against those
high principles of honour and disinterestedness by which
she had hitherto been guided ; and in doing so she makes
the first allusion to be found in any of her papers and
journals, of that dangerous incense of flattery, which had
been so freely offered on past occasions, and which,
having failed to satisfy her judgment or gratify her heart,
had left a taint of bitterness to succeed its ephemeral
sweetness.
334 LETTEKS. [1793
August 20, 1793.
MY DEAR FRIEND, I was thinking of writing to you to-day
when I received your letter of the 17th, which puts the pen im-
mediately into my hand. Your saying that some circumstances
you bad heard from your mother and brother had made you
' very thoughtful ' on my subject, leads me to suppose that you
are not so well informed as I thought you were (as I thought I
had myself informed you) of our situation. As good fortune is
always exaggerated, so bad is often made worse, and ill nature
is perhaps more frequently concerned in this exaggeration than
the other, for which reason I will, when we meet, enter into every
particular on the subject. At present, suffice it to say that when
we lose my father, we lose with him the annuity of a thousand
a year settled on him by that brother who has robbed him of
everything but the peace of mind attendant on a guiltless con-
science. There will then remain to us an income of 7001. a
year, or to one of us remaining unmarried (which is the proper
light for ME to consider the subject) of half that sum. Do not
suppose that I have not considered, and accustomed myself to
consider, aye, and exerted much philosophy in considering, how
little can be done with such a sum, and to what insignificance
it reduces. Be assured no mortification, no inconveniences
arising from it,
Nova mi facies aut inopinata surget.
Omnia prsecepi atque animo mecum ante peregi."
And yet after all, of how little will it deprive me ! I shall
still be welcome, and be dear to the warm hearts of one or
two people who really know me, and neglected by all the
world beside. And what have I ever been while feeling myself
the (often envied) possessor of natural advantages, which wealth
could not purchase, and rank sighed for in vain? I write
proudly, for I feel so. You, my dear friend, have not fol-
lowed me through life; you neither saw or knew me in bril-
liant scenes, made more dazzling by their novelty, receiving
homage the more intoxicating as it was purely personal, sur-
rounded and encouraged by worldly principles and worldly
examples; in most seducing circumstances acting always up
to those high-flown principles of honour and integrity, to that
crupulous delicacy of mind, of which others contented them-
selves with talking. . . . Forgive the burst of feeling, such
1793] MISS EEEEY'S NOBLENESS OF MIND. 385
as can only be poured into the bosom of partial friendship, and
which often overcharges my own. Do not think me romantic.
Nobody is farther removed from it, nor do I now at all approve
my conduct, whatever pride I may feel in my principles. It has
led to nothing but mortification, neglect, and misunderstanding.
. . . But alas ! I fear were I now to abandon my principles
I should only have the humiliating feeling of apostacy, without
either the cleverness or the confidence to profit by it. You
will easily see how all this applies. Besides, although I have
no doubt that Lord Orford said to Lady D. every word that she
repeated to your brother for last winter, at the time the C.'s
talked about the matter, he went about saying all this and more
to everybody that would hear him, but I always thought it
rather to frighten and punish them than seriously wishing it
himself. And why should he ? when, without the ridicule or the
trouble of a marriage, he enjoys almost as much of my society,
and every comfort from it, that he could in the nearest connec-
tion ? As the willing offering of a grateful and affectionate heart,
the time and attentions I bestow upon him have hitherto given
me pleasure. Were they to become a duty, and a duty to which
the world would attribute interested motives, they would be-
come irksome. Of the world, its meanness, its total indifference
to everything but interest, in some shape or other, be assured
you cannot think so badly nor so truly as I do. * They best '
believe 'it who have felt it most.'
In Lord Orford's letter to the Miss Berrys, dated
September 17th, he thus affectionately alludes to the great
addition to his happiness produced by his friendship with
them, and also of his motives for allowing some to think
that he had other views at heart towards them :
[I have been threescore years and ten looking for a society that
I perfectly like, and at last there dropped out of the clouds into
Lady Herries' room two young gentlewomen, who I so little
thought were sent thither on purpose for me, that when I was
told they were the charming Miss Berrys I would not even go to
the side of the chamber where they sat. But as Fortune never
throws anything at one's head without hitting one, I soon found
that the charming Berrys were precisely ce qu'il me fallait,
VOL. J. CO
386
LETTERS. [1793
and that tho' young enough to be my great-granddaughters,
lovely enough to turn the heads of all our youths, and sensible
enough, if said youths have any brains, to set all their heads to
rights again, yes, sweet damsels, I have found that you can
bear to pass half your time with an ante-diluvian without disco-
vering any ennui or disgust, tho' his greatest merit towards you
is that he is not one of those old fools who fancy they are in
love in their dotage. I have no such vagary, tho' I am not sorry
that some folks think I am so absurd, since it frets their
selfishness.]
Lord Orford's correspondence with the Miss Berrys
Wcis very frequent during their absence in Yorkshire.
The three following letters are amongst those addressed to
them in September :
Tuesday, 3 o'clock, Sept. 24, 1793.
You ordered me to write tomorrow, that you may receive this
on Friday. I begin to obey you on St. Morrow's vigil a good
deal out of humour not with you, more than I always am, but
with that Hen-Belial, Mrs A . As the busybody had told
me that the Duchess of York talked of coming hither to-day,
I could not help being prepared, tho' I did not trust to such
authority, and had received no formal notice as I had been pro-
mised. In short, I was ready by noon, my fires lighted, and my
whole house made as spruce as beer. You will scold me for
having believed what I did not believe, for can any truth come
out of Nazareth ? But consider, I had a better motive for cre-
dulity than young Nick' s. I had been told the visit should be made
at the end of last week, or at the beginning of this. Now, pray
ladies, when a week never yet contained more than seven days,
by what almanack can its beginning last longer than Tuesday ?
Wednesday or Thursday may quarrel for the middle, but should
it be given even for the former, y r argument will not be a jot
the better, for here at a good three of the clock, I have received
no notice to expect her Eoyal Highness tomorrow, and which
of the three last days are to be created the first, I do not pretend
to guess. The sum total is, that I am extremely distressed and
kept in suspense, and cannot go to town, as I want to do, and
yet must wait till I am delivered of my princess.
The Gazette will reach you sooner than this, and will have
told several welcome articles, as Elphinstone's noble preserva-
1793] CAPTURE OF THE FRENCH FLEET AT TOULON. 387
tion of Toulon, the reprisal of Menin, and the reveil of the Duke
of Brunswick, whom the French were so silly as to awaken by a
drum at his ear, and paid for disturbing him. To-day's True
Briton says O'Hara is to command at Toulon. No mortal more
fit, but I hope he will not be wanted. The honest men of the
Convention, who speak truth as conscientiously as Mrs. A., have
told the Parisians that Carteaux * was marching to the relief
of Toulon with forty thousand men. Capt. Elphinstone, who
had no very obvious reason for depreciating his own victory,
reduces that beaten army to about eight hundred. One may
presume that the Convention are a little nearer to the truth
when they paint so deplorably the annihilation of their marine
by the capture of their fleet at Toulon.
This is all I know or am likely to know before this sets out
tomorrow. I do not mind its brevity ; you will have long
ones enough before two months are gone and over !
I am impatient for the account of your journey. It rained
outrageously yesterday from two to four, and has not been dry
this afternoon. How did Agnes bear travelling ? Well, I long
to hear. How did you find good grandmama ? f
Well, I will add no more, when I have really nothing to say ;
but let it be a precedent, when you have anything better or else
to do as you must have I have not ; and when I take up
so much of y r time here, it would be most unjust and unfair to
keep you employed, when in the midst of y r family and old
friends, of whom you see so little. Adieu !
Ditto, P.S. at night.
Just as I had begun my dinner, I received a note from General
Bude to tell me the D ss of York was but then returned from Wind-
sor (whither, I suppose, she had been to see her Augustan and
Adolphian brother-in-law), and, recollecting her engagement
with me, would come tomorrow about noon, if not a very bad
* On August 30th the French republican General Carteaux appeared
with, a force of 800 men, some cavalry, and 10 pieces of cannon, at two
places about six miles from Toulon. Captain Elphinstone, E.N., with a
force of 600, dislodged them, capturing their cannon, ammunition, flags, &c.
Ann. Rey.
t Mrs. Seton, Miss Berry's grandmother, then living with her daughter,
Lady Gayley, of Brompton in Yorkshire, to whom the Miss Berry s had
gone to make a visit. M.S.
c c 2
388
LETTERS. [1793
morning, and if not inconvenient to me. Padrona, but I
shall pray for fair weather, for it will be sad to put off my
going to London again. I tried at my dessert to have eaten y r
healths in your melon. I hope they are better than it, for it
was as hard as a stone and as white. I did not attempt to save
the seeds, for I believe they would thrive nowhere but in a
quarry.
P.S. the I don't know how manyth. I had a few lines to-day
from your Philander, Mr. P . He wants me to assist him in
consulting Bishop Douglas about some point of Scottish history.
There, thank my stars, my whole commission ends ;
Salisbury and I are luckily no friends !
He does not notify his marriage to me, nor begs my interest
with any wife of mine.
Should tomorrow be ever so brilliant, I shall scarce have time
before the post goes out, to give you an account of the Eoyal
visit. It has rained again all the evening, I hope instead of
tomorrow. I am sitting at home comfortably, writing post-
scripts to Yorkshire without end.
Pray, grandmama, pray to Grod to bless me and make me a
good boy ! and pray keep my wives as long as you please, and
pray send them directly.
On the 25th of September he writes them an account
of a visit to Strawberry Hill from the Duchess of York ;
on the 27th and 29th, the following accounts of all he has
seen and heard:
Sept. 27, Thursday evening.
Dont be frightened ; I am not going to send this away this
evening, having already sent one to you this morning ; but I
find I cannot reconcile myself to y r absence, unless I am always
talking to you, and that is not so comfortable as your talking
to me.
I have been at Oatlands this morning, but the Duchess was
gone to the Drawing-room at St. James's, as in truth I hoped
she would be, unless prevented by her foot ; yet as fairy as it is,
it is well again. On the lawn before the palace I found Bude
and young Nick just going to mount their horses. I suppose
she had come to learn the particulars of yesterday, that she may
1793] PORTRAIT OF MADAME DU DEFFAND. 389
pretend at the Pavilions to have been of the party, as she did
about Jerningham. I am sorry for Bude; she probably will
hook him into some scrape by lies that she will tell him, or say
that he told her.
Just as I was setting out I received a note from the Princesse
d'Hennin desiring to come to me with a niece of hers just
arrived from Paris, who had brought something for me that the
Prince de Beauvau had ordered by his will to be delivered to
me. Surprised and impatient as I was to know what, I was
forced to beg to be excused till I should have made my court,
but went the moment I got back to Twickenham.
What ! thought I to myself, has he been seized with a peni-
tent pang, and restored the papers of which he defrauded me
on Madame du Deffand's death ? I beg pardon of a Frenchman
for suspecting him of conscience, or of doing justice to an
Englishman. I never knew one of the nation but that dear old
woman who thought there was any more justice due to us
than at last, they have shown they think they owe to one-
another.
So you have been guessing at my legacy never were two
young ladies wider from the mark. The Princess and the
Prince de Poix, putting on funeral faces for the loss of so
worthy a relation as the Marechal, for whose death you know
they have not been sorry this month, delivered me a transcript
of the article of the will and a picture. It is an indifferent
copy of the washed drawing that I have of Madame du
Deffand (but which copy the judicious testator calls a print),
but instead of the figure of the Duchess of Choiseul in the
original, there is a servant in livery presenting to my dear old
friend a portrait of the Marechal de Beauvau, not a whit the
better, as she was stone blind, for its being very like but in
short it was a present to himself of his own resemblance, and
now one to me, who value it no more than if I were blind too.
Here are the words of the curious bequest :
( J'ai a coeur que 1'on fasse tenir par la premiere occasion a
Mons r Valpol une estampe representant Madame du Deffand
qui est a cote de la cheminee de ma chambre : on mandera a
Mons r Valpole, que cette dame nous ayant aimes tous deux,
et ayant ete aimee de nous, j'ai pense que son image devoit
appartenir au survivant.' I loved her writings too, and she
390 LETTERS. [1793
left them all to me ; the Prince, it seems, loved them better,
detained several, and did not think that the survivor ought to
have them even after him.
Sept. 27, 1793, at night.
In my disconsolate widowhood I have been this evening with
the Cambridges, and I am glad I have, for I have transacted
important business with them. Greorge was at home, and he
as well as the farrier are decidedly of opinion that Agnes's mare,
which is worse for going to London, will infallibly relapse if
she sets out for Yorkshire before next Wednesday ; and then all
riding would be lost during your journey, from which I hope so
much benefit to your sister. I, as lord and master in my own
domestic, have authorised Mr. Greorge to lay an embargo on the
mare's progress till further orders and advice of the faculty;
and I think this order of council of so much consequence, that
I shall send this away to-morrow, tho' I had intended to reserve
it till I had collected some news for you in town, whither I go
to-morrow.
I have heard no more of Besanon, and therefore doubt of
its revolt ; but Miss Cambridge told me news, for which I am
truly concerned. That loveliest and perfectest of all ancient
mansions Cowdry was on Monday night last totally burnt to
the ground in six hours ! The Dowager Lady Montagu was at
Brighthelmstone, the young lord abroad, and probably only a
few unintelligent servants in the house. It is a grievous loss to
us Goths !
This summer, the sweetest-tempered ever born in England,
has quite recovered its good humour, and to-day been enchant-
ing with primaeval verdure. I hope it has accompanied you to
Brompton. I long to hear of y r being arrived there. Grood-
night. I finish without any douceurs ; my letters par cy, par la,
have enough of them, I believe.
Friday morning, half-past ten.
P.S Oh, thank you, thank you ! I this moment receive y r note
from Ferrybridge ; y half delights me, the other half afflicts me,
to find my sweet Agnes is not better, but worse for travelling.
How I wish her under the wing of grandmama ! who I hope
will send her back to me quite well again.
The post-office, I believe, will think it our honeymoon still :
you have been gone but five days, and I have written to you on
1793] WALPOLE'S SOLICITUDE. 391
three of them running. As you know I am not partial to the
moon, I shall desire to christen the aara of my double marriage
our honey sun:, but then you must both be in good health, and
that alas ! both of you seldom are for two days together ! As
y 1 " last night's letter will arrive here to-morrow when I shall be
in town, I leave orders for it to be sent after me by the
coach.
Sunday Night, Sept. 29, 1793.
Having written to the bone all I had to say, I have let my
pen rest for three days aye, but why ? Not from a fit of idleness,
but I have not received your second letter, and which now I
cannot get before Tuesday. I expected it yesterday, and your
servant expected one too, but neither arrived. He may bear
his disappointment as stoically as he pleases, I have no such
apathy. You know how apt I am to be alarmed when I do not
hear from you at the moment I intend ; I imagine that one of
you is ill, or that both have been overturned. I can no more
persuade myself out of all fears than any one else could persuade
me out of them, nobody's reason being half so eloquent as one's
own feelings ; for words only go into the ear, die of their own
sound, and never sink to the heart. The post never miscarries,
but when it has nothing to carry, tho' persons pretend to have
written when they have not. As you promised to write again
as soon as you arrived at Brompton, I can only suppose that
something (the Lord knows what) detained you, and that you
did not get thither till Friday, too late to save the post ; or that
it is too far from the post-town ; or that a Yorkshire Sunday is
as prudish as Mrs. Cambridge, and will let nobody move hand
or foot, tho' the tongue may gallop as fast as it lists, and fetch
and carry scandal all over the parish. My chief dread is lest
Agnes should have been forced to stop on the road : the moment
your letter comes my eye will hurry over it to look for her
name; and as usual, till I read it a second time, I shall scarce
know what it contains.
I went to town on Friday to give orders about new papering
and distempering my dining room, and it would be finished in
ten days, if there were one tradesman in London that ever
spoke truth. In half an hour after my landing, walked into my
room Greneral Conway, come only for a single day. In the
evening we went together to Miss Farren's, and besides her
392 LETTERS. [1793
duenna-mother, found her at piquet with her unalterable Earl
(of Derby). Apropos, I have observed of late years, that when
Earls take strong attachments, they are more steady than other
men.
The next evening I sat with Mrs. Buller above two hours ;
there was her Unique,* who soon went down to his violin, and
Mr. Cocks, a banker. Mr. Churchill called on me before
dinner ; but from none did I gather one tittle of news, military
or naval. Eumours there have been for some days, and still
are, of overtures having been made from Brest to Lord Howe
but his lordship is not rapid ; he moves like a king at chess at
the end of a game, one square inch from Torbay, and the next
back again. I do not love to censure men of a profession I do
not at all understand, and therefore suppose there are good
reasons for his stationary inactivity. Our friend O'Hara is
certainly made Grovernor of Toulon, (rood night for to-night
I hope some of the most unimportant of my guesses at having
no letter may be the true one !
Monday night.
Y r man James has been here how I thank him ! and has
relieved my mind, and will send me tranquil to bed. He had
been in town this morning, and before seven this evening
brought me y r letter to him, which mentioning no mishap, I
trust none happened ; and now I am confident of receiving a
letter myself tomorrow, and will reserve the rest of my paper for
answering that.
Tuesday morning, 10 o'clock, Oct. 1.
The letter is come, and tells me all I wished to hear, except
of Agnes's cold ; however, as she carried it with her, I hope the
country will soon cure it, and do everything else it possibly can
for you both. Dont purloin much of y r time from y r good
family for me. My numerous letters to you are my chief
amusement, and rob nobody of anything that is at their service.
You can have few events to relate that I am curious to hear,
but what regards yrselves, and those are of consequence to me
to know. All Europe is engaged to furnish me with articles
b has not presented me with one to-day yet. The changes you
)t of were of the town's making, not the King's. Nobody is
* Her only child.
1793] MISS AGNES'S MAEE FORWARDED TO HER. 393
gone out or in, but S r Gilbert Elliot, and he is made commissioner
at Toulon.
I am glad you approve of our transactions about the mare.
James thought last night that she will be able to set out on
Wednesday, but he is to call on me after seeing the Cambridge
Junto, and then I shall know more, which shall be in the post-
script. Adieu ! mes belles voyageuses !
Y r devoted,
Le survivant de M. le Marechal de Beauvau
His principality I outlived four years ago.*
P.S. James is come, and the Savii hold that the mare may
safely go to London on Wednesday, and set out for JBrompton
on Thursday; but the Infallible is to be at Twickenham
to-night, and to decide on the sounciity or risk of the journey
but all that you will learn fully from Miss Cambridge's letter
to y r sister, which she has sent me to frank, as I have.
In the month of October the correspondence is still
more full.
Strawberry Hill, Oct. 2, 1793.
James brought me most favorable testimonials of the mare
this morning, and Mr. George Infallible came afterwards and
confirmed the report, and gave very prudent directions, and it was
settled that she should go gingerly to London this evening, and
proceed to you by easy stages, which may take up about ten days.
All this I determined to notify to you to-day. It was as fine a
morning for writing as heart could wish; but trifling away the time
in reading the newspaper, and finding nothing to-day to tell you
from it, the neat old LadyMurrays came, and brought their friend,
Lady Charlotte Wen tworth, with whom I was acquainted vicesimo
sexto G eorgii Secundi, to show her my house ; but before I could
begin my tale, hark ! a most violent clap of thunder came out
of an extempore dark cloud, intended, no doubt, for the sultry
weather in July, or that should have fallen on the French
Convention, and such swinging hail and rain, that we could
scarce see one another. However, according to the unexampled
good humour of this singular year, it grew fine again, and they
saw the house. By that time the post was gone, and luckily,
* He means by the abolition of nobility in France. J/.J5,
394 LETTERS. [1793
for behold, I have not a word more to say, and my letter must
wait till some good Christian tells me some truth or lie, which
you shall have faithfully without addition or diminution.
Thursday night, 3rd.
Your letter of the 30 th , and not of this month, for a certain
reason that shall be nameless, arrived this morning in statutable
time ; yet I could not continue this. First came my steward
from Crostwick with accounts and a lease to be signed. Then
the good Whelers from Kichmond, where they are to stay
about a week, and then she goes to the sea-side ; and last the
Duchess of Gloucester and Lady Mary Mordaunt. The former
told me she had sent to invite you two to the Pavilions about a
week ago, but found you were gone to Yorkshire, whither I
think I remember you talked of going. By the time I became
alone again, the post must have been got half way to London,
and there did not seem anything so important in this letter, or
likely to be in it, as to create a necessity of sending a messenger
to town with it, notwithstanding my alacrity at sending one ;
but I should have been ashamed now, when I had so heroically
conquered that inclination, last week, on being disappointed
for two days of your first letter from Yorkshire. You have
accounted for that delay pretty much as I did ; and therefore,
having discovered that I have a little sense of reasoning when
I allow myself time, I will try my hand at it another time tho'
I had rather have no occasion for it.
How very happy I am that you think my dear Agnes a little
mended already, and that even your kind grandmother, who is too
fond not to have keen eyes, found her much less altered than you
expected but you are like me, and too easily alarmed for those
you love so much. Mrs. Seton is like me too (in short, there
is a sort of family likeness amongst us) in consenting so readily
to parting with you to Scarborough. I hope it will answer to
her, and am persuaded it will. I have experienced such benefit,
and so astonishingly sudden, from sea-air, that I have great trust
in it being salutary to y r sister.
Dont talk of sending me letters not worth a farthing. What
are any letters worth but according to the person from whom
they come ? Do you think that if I had expected last week
one of the best letters that Madame de Sevigne ever wrote, and
1793] NEWS FROM FRANCE. 395
that I had never seen, but had heard it was coming, I should
have been wretched for two days because it was not arrived?
pho ! dont tell me of letters not worth a farthing let me but
have those I desire, and leave it to me to see the value of them.
If the want of matter and news, and everything foreign to
the writer and receiver, constitutes a trumpery letter, behold
one that John Nichols would not print in the ' London Maga-
zine,' where he has condescended to preserve even Dr. Johnson's
notes to his printer, with a number of others equally illustrating
nothing. It is certain that from the different persons that I have
seen for these two days I have not learnt a single new fact,
either from London or the Continent ; but from their own papers
I have seen articles proposed in the Convention that stiffen one
with horror. Would you have believed, even three months
ago, that that ripaire of two-legged hyaenas could have invented
new atrocities to add to their mass of crimes ? Oh ! but they
could, they have ! have proposed to thrust all suspected persons
that is, all against whom they have no proofs into large
buildings, undermined on purpose for blowing them up if a
counter-revolution happens ! I hope this Pandaemoniac proposal
was suggested by the last sob of despair !
How mankind is improved in the manufacture of malice and
mischief since the Greeks, inspired by the Groddess of Wisdom
herself, contrived so silly and untoward a project as to present
to a besieged town of their enemies a Brobdignag mare full of
armed men !
Well, to-morrow is a new day, and the True Briton may help
me to something more to say ; if not, dixi.
Strawberry Hill, Oct. 10, 1793.
As far as I can foresee, this will be a dwarf letter in propor-
tion to its predecessors, for I do not know a haputh of news,
and only begin mine to tell you I have just received yours of
Sunday last from Scarborough, and it gives me vast pleasure to
hear y r sister continues to mend, tho' her mare be not arrived.
I calculate that she will have it by Saturday at farthest, and
I hope, in good rideability. In consideration of their zeal about
her, I went again last night to the Cambridges, but found him
alone. His wife was confined above, in her own cherry tree,
with her rheumatism and an additional fever.
396 LETTERS. [1793
To my home-gazette I have but one article to add : while it
lasted it was vexatious. The panic or blunder Master-general
had asked me for a ticket for some French, tho' it is a fortnight
past my exhibitory season, but said, with a petitioning face,
' I think you allow only four at a time.' ' Why,' said I, ( my
lord, to tell you the truth, I am not so strict about foreigners ;
they may have but a day or two, and may not know our rules '
in short, I allowed him to add to four give him an inch,
and guess how many ells he will take five, six, seven and
when you have counted seventeen you will not have exceeded
the number ! Nanny's cap stood on end ! I thought the inva-
sion of 100,000, that the Convention have decreed, were come
over in balloons, as they formerly intended. The little parlour
would not hold them, the green closet less, the star-chamber
still less and the poor cabinet ! I trembled, and so had
Nanny ; for the moment they were gone, she came running to
me, and said, 'Well, they have broke nothing!' Eecollect
that these seventeen dozen have passed the whole summer at
Richmond, and might have come in detail.
Ah ! your good grandmother ! I shall be jealous, and think
she loves you both better than I do but come, I will be noble
too, and think you ought to stay longer in the North, and
repay her the fortnight you have filched from her.
Pray was not your sea monster like the Duke of Orleans, or
one of the Convention ?
At night.
I have been at Lady Betty Mackinsy's, where were both
politicians and French, but I did not learn one new military
event. The poor old Due de Nivernois was ten days under
arrest, but has been acquitted and released. The Duchesse de
Grammont and Mad. du Chatelet, the latter in a bad state of
health, are seized also. All these, it is supposed, it was only
meant to squeeze. It is hoped they will soon squeeze the
plunderers amongst themselves, and spare them no more than
they do their own generals. You justly scoff at their re-baptising
the days of the week ; but in everything they do is there not a
layer of horror and a layer of folly ? I hope they have opened
^e eyes of mankind, and that it .will be remarked at last that
3 nation never did possess sound sense. Their egregious
nty was the consequence of their extreme ignorance. They
1793] PEINCESSB D'HENNItf PKINCE DE POIX. 397
would not condescend to know what was out of their own
country, scarce what was out of Paris ; and each Frenchman,
master of their own usages, thought himself qualified to dictate
to the rest of the world. They sent dolls dressed in their own
fashions to other countries, and imagined they were communi-
cating universal knowledge ; and indeed there was little dif-
ference between the jointed baby and the prototype. The
memoires of Mons r de Maurepas, so veteran a minister, show of
what shreds, and patches, and trifles, like a harlequin's jacket, a
French statesman's head is composed. Their women, who had
sense, found out the futility of the men, and governed them
universally ; but they were French women, and le pais s'enres-
sentoit.
Saturday.
My letter shall set out, for probably it has got its complement.
The Prince of Cobourg is endeavouring to hem in the French
army at Maubeuge, and the King of Prussia is returned to
Berlin. I hope he has not taken or given the Duke of Brunswick
another sleeping draught !
John St. John is dead. I expect Stumpety Stump to dine
with me to-day and stay till to-morow, and the Churchills on
Sunday are not these very important pieces of intelligence to
send to the North of England ? It is making bricks with straws.
Adieu !
P.S. My sweet Agnes, Mrs. Seton is not happier than I am
that you took this journey, since Scarborough agrees so well
with you.
[Strawberry Hill, Tuesday evening, 8 o'clock, Oct. 15, 1793.
I called on the Princesse d'Hennin, who has been in town
a week. I found her quite alone, and I thought she did not
^answer quite clearly about her two knights. The Prince de
Poix has taken a lodging in town, and she talks of letting her
house here if she can in short, I thought she had a little of
an Ariadne air but this was not what I was in such a hurry to
tell you. She showed me several pieces of letters, I think from
the Duchesse de Bouillon ; one says, the poor Duchesse de Biron*
is again arrested and at the Jacobins, and with her une jeune
* The Duchess was guillotined the following year.
398 LETTERS. [1793
etourdie, qui ne fait que chanter toute la journee ; and who think
you may that be ? only, our pretty little wicked Duchesse de
Fleury! . . .
My poor old friend the D 88 de la Valiere, past ninety and
stone-deaf, has a guard set upon her, but in her own house ; her
daughter the D sse de Chatillon, mother of the D sse de laTremouille,
is arrested, and thus the last, with her attachment to the
Queen, must be miserable indeed : but one would think I feel
for nothing but duchesses ; the crisis has crowded them together
into my letter, and into prison ; and to be prisoner among cani-
bals is pitiable indeed !]
Wednesday morning, 11 o'clock.
As the summer improves every day this autumn, I have just
been at Cliveden, lest it should grow so hot that I should be
tanned if I staid till November. I went to see the second
festoon over Agnes's door, and am glad I did, for it is much too
small and too faint. Kirgate will carry both to the poor Painter
at Richmond, and have them made to resemble. Cliveden never
looked more like Paradise, and Mrs. Richardson,* with all her
poultry about her, made a very matron-like Eve. I received
y r father's letter, and franked and forwarded it as you ordered.
The Nymph of the Cherry tree f continues ill, and I think her
mate looks on her, as in a declining way.
I have had a letter from the Bishop of Dromore of seven
sides of paper, the object of which was, to induce me to add to
my Noble Authors some meditations by a foolish Counters of
Northumberland, and to set me to inquire after a MS Tract of
Earl Algernon ; with neither of which I have complied or shall.
The Bishop having created himself a Percy, is gone mad about
that family, tho' the Percys are more remembered for having
lost their heads, than for ever having had a head that was a loss
to lose.
Thursday morning, 17th, past 10.
I assure my Twin Wives that much as I delight in their being
and liking to be at Cliveden, I am much happier in having
contributed to persuade their northern journey. What can
please me so much as to see them return in health ! The
* Miss Berry's housekeeper.
( Mrs. Cambridge, so called from a joke of society not worth recalling.
Jbf.Ii,
1793J IMPROVED HEALTH OF THE MISS BERRYS. 399
safe arrival of the mare is a great codicil to my satisfaction, and
with a longer stay at Scarborough, which I beg may be pro-
tracted as long as this miraculous season will please to last, I
shall hope that you will both be fortified to support a winter
campaign in London. Surely the good Grrandam will come to
you. I will send you to her no more, if she prefers any thing
to re-establishing your healths.
You are very kind in being content with my letters unin-
teresting as they are, for here I learn nothing till it has been
mangled in the newspapers, and commonly proved to have been
false there. To-day's True Briton talks of prodigious success
crowning the Royalists in Bretagne. Yesterday there seemed
to be some stop put to the breaking up of our camps, but no
reason assigned. The papers chuse to make the Prince de Saxe
Coburg meditate an attack on the strong camp at Maubeuge ;
but I have been, told, and think it more probable, that he will
endeavour to gjirve them to a surrender. He did not approve of
the last vivacity at Dunkirk ; and as the French affairs become
more desperate every day, some patience may be the wisest
measure ; but I will not reason upon what I do not understand,
nor on what I do not know authentically. I see I mistake some-
thing or other every post. I thought the King of Prussia going
off to-day he has made a new treaty with us if that is any
security. Adieu !
To Miss Agnes Berry.
Thursday evening, Oct. 17, 1793.
MY SWEET LAMB, I am not content with having only thanked
you in my bigamy-letter which was almost finished when your
postscript arrived, which made me so happy, and for which I am
the more Obliged, as you do not love writing. Your great
amendment I fully believe, for y r sister assures me of it too.
She is more apt to be alarmed about you than anybody, and
would not be satisfied with a trifling improvement. I rejoice in
the arrival of your mare ; J et I have still more confidence in
the sea-air, and shall now be impatient to hear Mrs. Seton has
joined you at Scarborough, where I hope she 'will keep you as
long as the weather remains tolerable. You say kindly, you
hope I am not better pleased with y r absence than I was :
indeed and in good deed but I am, since it has had such pros-
400
LETTERS.
[1793
perous effect. Tho' it should last longer than I expected, as I
now most seriously wish it may, I shall be amply repaid by seeing
you both return looking perfectly well. Absence is charming
to lament in ditties of Lovers, but when founded on the best
reasons, it goes to none of Friendship's tunes. I can quote
but one' poetic line that suits my present mood, and to which I
hope you will bring back the most satisfactory answer :
Rose, what is become of your delicate hue ?
REPLY : La voici.
Whether I am as comfortable as when you are at Cliveden, you
may judge by my innumerable letters. Mary cites an authority,
that I have not the assurance to adopt ; that a man proves his
affection to a woman that gives up his time to her. Ah ! me !
I doubt my being constantly writing to you both, entertains
myself much more than it does you two. In short, I feel con-
versing with you, and prefer it to going to Richmond and
Hampton Court, which used to be my resources formerly, when
I was tired of sitting whole evenings alone. I now return to
my letters of the common of Two (renders.
Miss Hotham has given warning to Mr. Pigou to quit the
smaller and far more beautiful house at Marble Hill, intending
to inhabit it herself. Poor S r Charles does not come to town
this winter, thinking himself too ill ; but his staying where he
is and leading the dismal life he does, is, I believe, his chief
illness : but am not I sending you coals to Newcastle ? I will
pause till I have better fuel.
Friday morning, after breakfast.
The coach has just brought me from Park-place a grove of
lavender plants for you, of which Mrs. Darner had given me
notice. My gardener is gone to distribute them about Cliveden,
which I hope next summer will be as odoriferous as Mount
Carmel. They have brought to my recollection the tag
of an old song that I learnt in my first babyhood, that I am
sure has not been in my head these threescore years and ten,
but suits incomparably with my second infancy :
Rosemary's green, diddle diddle, lavender's blue ;
If you'll love me, diddle diddle, I will love you.
Were Mrs. Stanhope to know what pretty things I say to my
1793] DEATH OF DR. HUNTER. 401
wives, I believe she would not covet such a superannuated
galant ; but you will not expose our curtain-douceurs !
At noon.
I have had no letters to-day, and the newspaper tells nothing,
but new distresses announced to the vile Convention, and which
they only pretend to combat by new bravados, yet evidently
tremble for Maubeuge. I trust their inhuman career approaches
to its termination !
This is a hors-d'oeuvre, and so shall go away. Adieu, Both !
Strawberry Hill, Oct. 19, 1793.
As I wrote to Agnes and you yesterday, and to you and Agnes
the day before, I shall say but few words now, and only in an-
swer to yours of Wednesday last about my health. Trifles seem
serious at a distance, and one is receiving and writing letters
about them after one has forgot them. I am quite vexed that
Mrs. Darner sent you word of my disorder, having begged her
not. I did go to Lady Betty Mackinsy's as soon as I was better,
but surely that was very different from going to Park-place,
naturally the coldest house in the world, and now unroofed and
uncieled, and whither you know I had no mind to go this year,
and which I nope I shall avoid, as they are gone to Nuneham
to-day ; and next week Mr. Con way must go and kiss hands for
his idle Truncheon,* and by that time I conclude this immortal
summer will go into winter quarters, and I shall have no incli-
nation to commence a campaign in November. You will smile
at my remedy ; but I was cured by port wine, which is as nau-
seous to me as anything from the apothecary's, and therefore I
suppose it succeeded.
I have just heard that Dr. Hunterf is dead suddenly at St.
George's Hospital in a fit, to which he was subject. It is a
great blow to his family, as he was in such repute. I am
heartily concerned for her, who you know is a great favourite
with me. You will not see me soon sitting between Lady Louisa^
and Mrs. Carter !
* He was appointed a Field Marshal.
t Dr. John Hunter.
j Lady Louisa Macdonald, sister to the first Duke of Sutherland,
married to Sir Archibald Macdonald, Chief Justice of the Common Pleas.
The translator of Epictetus.
VOL. I. D D
402
LETTERS. [1793
The Churchills dined here last Sunday, but could not stay, as
they have bought a house at Lewisham, in Kent, and were to go
to it next morning. Lady Mount Edgcumbe is to have a pap-
party on Monday, as it will be my god-daughter's first birthday
that can be kept.
Little edge,
Can I hedge
In a rhyme
By that time ?
If you cry,
Granny and I
Will sing nought but Lullaby.
I know nothing else, as you may have perceived by all my late
silly letters. I have a true regard for nonsense, on which I have
lived man and boy for longer than I will say ; but as you are
worthy of better food, I had rather have something to tell you
that you would care to read. The newspaper is just come, and
brings not a tittle. Adieu !
Tuesday, Oct. 22, 1793.
I am glad for you sakes, since you would not complain of it
yourselves, that I am grown tired of my own nonsense ; for
the future I will send you nothing but matters of fact, that is,
while they remain matters of fact, which indeed they seldom do
longer than a rainbow. Last night, as I told you I should, I
went to the birthday of the youngest Edging. I found dismal
countenances ! The panic master had just heard that the siege
of Maubeuge was raised, and Lyons taken neither entirely
true nor false. Mackinsy came in, who had dined with Dundas,
' No, no, the siege is not raised ; but part of the Austrian
army has been attacked, and somewhat beaten.'
Of Lyons the story is strange indeed ! not taken, but eva-
cuated by thirty thousand whether men or persons I don't
know, and with all their artillery, ammunition and goods. They
are marched to the Grevaudam and then I know nothing
more but this is called good news. When I can tell why, I
will tell you.
A Don Kicardos, who sounds like a hero out of a comedy of
Mrs. Behn, has slain 7000 French and taken ten pieces of canon.
I hope he is an officer of the St. Hermandad, who pursue and
hang the banditti they may have fine sport at Paris.
1793] EXECUTION OF MAEIE ANTOINETTE. 403
There is again a potion of great anti-revolutionary distur-
bances at Brest. I have not settled my creed about all these
articles, so believe them or not, as you please. Lord Greorge Con-
way has galloped home with some success of General Wurmser,
who is as punctual and circumstantial as an English member of
parliament who sends his constituents a faithfull account of
every step he takes.
I shall go to town to-morrow to see my room, the paper-
ing and painting of which is finished, and, as the weather has
not frowned yet, I shall return hither on Friday.
As I was finishing the last line, the Princess and Lally came
in ; they know and comprehend the evacuation of Lyons no more
than I do ; nay, the convention stares as much as we do, for in the
fact everybody agrees, as if it was common for a whole large
city to be turned inside outwards ! How many hundred generals
will be guillotined for it !
Lady Mount Edgcumbe had sent her coach this morning to
Madame de Cambis to come to the Princesse d'Hennin ; but sent
for it back in great haste, having received an account of her
Lord being very ill, and she is going to him at the Mount. I
am alarmed for him ; he has had some bad attacks of late.
Lally inquired with interest about you both. I had the satis-
faction of telling him that one is quite well, and the other much
better I hope I spoke exact truth ; I never wished less to
deceive.
Wednesday, 3 o'clock, Berkeley Square.
I am just arrived. Nobody that can give me any certain
information on anything, especially on what I am infinitely
anxious to know, the fate of the Queen of France ! The True
Briton, before I came away, had told me she had been tried,
acquitted, and massacred by the mob. My servants, whom I
have sent about to learn what they could, bring me word that
she was tried on the 15th, and executed on the 16th. I am
so wretched for her, that it will be a kind of relief to know
that she is dead, and at the period of her miseries the most
dreadful that ever human being suffered for so long a term !
I must send away my letter, or it will be too late for the
post, but I will write again to-morrow, when I may be able to
know better what I say.
There was a long gazette last night, making the most of
D D 2
4Q4 LETTERS. E1793
Wurmser's success mumbling about Maubeuge, silent about
Lyons, and assuring us about Toulon, which seems to have
been in peril but I have not time for details, and you will
see the gazette in to-morrow's paper.
Berkeley Square, Oct. 24, 1793.
The horrible tragedy of the Queen of France is but too true !
Our Koyal Family put off going to the play last night, and the
Queen has no drawing-room to-day as was appointed. I do not
know any of the shocking circumstances. I saw nobody last
night but Lady Bute, whom I found confined to her room with
the gout, and old Mrs. Walkinshaw with her, and they knew no
particulars in truth, now the protracted martyrdom is com-
pleated, I shall be curious to learn nothing of that bloody and
atrocious nation but its punishment indeed they seem to medi-
tate it themselves, and to intend to lay it waste it is fit for
nothing but adesart inhabited by wild beasts Lyons they have
ordered to be destroyed of that history I am as ignorant as I
was yesterday. The siege of Maubeuge the True Briton owns
is raised. I expect Marshal Conway in town to-day ; he was to
have kissed the Queen's hand presently, but will find himself
disappointed. If he calls here before half an hour after four
(when our letters go to the post) and has picked up anything
material, I will keep this open to add it, and I will not go out
before dinner lest I should miss him.
The Duchess of An caster died at Lausanne on the 7 th of this
month : her daughter and Lord Cholmondeley are on their road
to England.
The Marshall has been here. He believes the convention's
account of Lyons, and that the fugitives far from being multi-
tudes, were pursued, and cut to pieces the siege of Maubeuge
is oh ! no, not raised see how big my pen is grown in a
moment before I could write is raised. Mr. Conway who had
left me but while I wrote those two lines and a half, stepped
back to tell me much better news before he had got out of the
square the Prince of Wales, whom with his blindness he did not
know, but took for his nephew Lord Greorge, stopped him, took
him by the hand and wished him joy, telling him an officer is
just arrived from the Prince of Saxe-Cobourg who has compleatly
defeated the army of the French The True Briton said so this
1793] RUMOURS FROM THE CONTINENT. 405
morning but who dares believe anything under a Prince of
Wales ? Oh ! I should be transported if I could in a moment
forget the Queen of France but grief and joy cannot so soon
mix, and her sufferings will long lie heavy at my heart. I will this
evening go and inquire after the Duchesse de la Tremouille
who is almost the sole French person that I had almost rather
never behold again I have not a moment for more.
Berkeley Square, Oct. 25, 1793.
I have abjured nonsense, and now I think I shall renounce
my senses. In this romancing age it is not safe to believe any-
thing under a King ; and when I believe one of them, it shall
not be him of Prussia, who has sworn like an Irish evidence thro'
thick .and Poland, and perjured himself in every article. I
observe it is the universal usage to say, search for truth, which
implies that truth is, or was, a simple individual, extremely con-
cealed, and who was either never found, or died a virgin and left
no progeny. We do know who was the Adam to that Eve, the
Father of Lies, but as the marriage was never solemnized, it must
be his bastards who have stocked the globe. Those imps have
misled me, who have been one of the fools in search of truth,
to pester you with daily letters for this last week not so much
even for the sake of sending you events, as to contradict the
falsehoods I had too impatiently dispatched, from eagerness to
communicate with you any momentary pleasure I tasted. I
must now lower your victorious sails, and recall the Prince of
Cobourg's laurels. It is certain that they were most generally
believed all yesterday, not only by the source of my information,
but by very cool reasoners ; and a brother of Lord Mornington
was cited as the express he was come, but was messenger of
nothing, and early this morning the Flanders mail is arrived,
and has not brought a leaf that would cover a silver penny.
Well, here I disclaim gazetteering. The worst news of all,
the death of the Queen of France, is true, the particular
horrors I do not know but as the execrable hyaenas cannot
staunch their thirst of innocent blood, they have offerred a large
reward for discovering (with dispersing his likeness) Edgworth,
the excellent confessor of the murdered king. Louis and
Antoinette are butchered, Catherine Slayczar and Prussian
Frederic live and triumph ! It is a pity that they are not King
406 LETTEKS. [1793
and Queen of France, then the sovereigns and nations would
be properly adapted. Well ! I will endeavour to remove these
horrible images which haunt my imagination, and will talk only
within my own little sphere.
Last night I supped with the first Marshal at my sister's
besides her and her husband, there were her daughter Sophia,
Mr. Fawkener, Lady Englefield and S r Harry. Her I am
always glad to see, and was particularly so last night, as she
has so lately left you two. She said she left you both very
well, and as a proof, that she had seen you at a ball the
evidence did not entirely convince me, I have known you both
go to balls when not remarkably in health the proof grew still
weaker when I came home at twelve and found your letter
of the 21 st , in which you do not speak so sanguinely of y r
sister's looks but your constant anxiety about her is apt to
make you think her worse than she is, and I trust to those who
do not see her so constantly as you do. Still I wish Mrs. Seton
had not been so impatient for your leaving Scarborough. I,
who will not allow that she loves you better than I do, would
gladly consent to her paying herself for your longer stay there,
by deducting from y r return as much time as you should stay
more than you intended near the sea. I fear I am too late to
propose this now, but I did hint it before.
I own I was exceedingly vexed at Mrs. D.' s acquainting you
with my transient indisposition. She and you have both hand-
somely confessed that you had exacted the promise from her.
Where could be the use or good of acquainting two persons, who
were gone a long journey, partly for health, and who were very
happy and gay, with the indisposition of one whom I am con-
vinced they love yes I am and who was sure of being soon
recovered from a temporary disorder.
I found my room quite finished, and clean and snug but I
have found the town so totally empty, that I shall return to
Strawberry to-morrow ; and nobody's bible oath shall make me
believe any news again, till St. Thomas, who was no giddy
credulous person, assures me he has had digital proof of the fact.
Adieu !
Strawberry Hill, Tuesday, Oct. 29, 1793.
I have just received y rs of the 26th, and begin to answer it
directly, tho' not knowing when I shall dispatch it, as I cannot
1793] WALPOLE'S EULOGY OF MARIE ANTOINETTE. 407
satisfy you nor myself in half one wants to know about the most
interesting of all events, and my greatest astonishment consists
in the execrable monsters having let enough be known to conse-
crate Marie Antoinette to immortal glory, and to devote Paris
and all its fiends to the horror and detestation of posterity.
You bid me go to the P rsse d'Hennin and learn what I can. No,
indeed ; I must be well convinced of the purity of sentiments
of any French man or woman, before I would go to them. I
would rather fly their sight ! yet mine is not grief now. No, it
is all admiration and enthusiasm. The last days of that unpa-
ralleled princess were so superior to any death ever exhibited or
recorded, that for the sake of her glory, I think, unless I could
restore her to happiness, to her children, to her untainted friends,
and could see her triumph over the murderous mobs that have
massacred her, I would not revive her if I could. When did
there ever exist such august simplicity ! What mind was ever,
I will not say so firm, but so perfectly mistress of its own
thoughts and intentions, that could be attentive to every cir-
cumstance and distracted by none ? Think of all that was com-
prehended in that question to the monsters called her counsel-
lors, but certainly allotted to her as defamatory spies, ( Had she
assumed too much dignity, as she passed to her trial, for she
had noticed one of the juries, who s d , " How proud she is." ' It
proved her unaltered presence of mind, and that she was ready
to condescend, if it would better become her. What philosopher
or martyr had equal possession of himself in similar moments ?
None, none, not one ! And then recollect the length of her suf-
ferings, her education, exaltation to happiness, and supreme
power, her sudden fall, the disappointments she had met, the
ingratitude and treachery she had experienced, the mortifica-
tions and insults heaped upon her, and studiously, maliciously,
aggravated for five years together ; the murder of husband, the
miseries of and terrors for her children : the total deprivation of
all decent comforts, and, perhaps the greatest cruelty of all, not
to have had one friend ; but a thousand times worse, to have
fear at every moment in the hands of the most unfeeling jailors.
Sum up all this mass of woes, and perhaps thousands more of
which we have never heard, and then see this phoenix rise
superior to hosts of torturing spiteful fiends, and hear her pro-
nounce the most sublime word that ever passed thro' human lips.
408 LETTERS. [1793
When they (I have no adequate epithet for them) had declared
sentence and asked her what she had to say, she said, 6 Kien.'
Too calm, too sensible, too collected, and unshaken, she was
above fear, indignation, and solicitation, and accountable only
to herself, she showed that such a host of miscreants was not
worthy of knowing a syllable of what passed in perhaps the
greatest mind that ever existed. Her invisible patience was all
that appeared, and that was a negative, but as unvaried as all her
illustrious virtues, and great qualities, on which rancour and per-
secution have not been able to fix a speck of stain let history
or legend produce a similar model !
These are the effusions of my heart, not dictated by the im-
pulse of the moment, but the result of my cool reflections of
three days. I trust them in perfect confidence to your honour,
and exact from the fidelity of your friendship that you will not
communicate nor read them to any mortal but your father and
sister, nor let this paper pass out of your own hands, nor suffer
a tittle of it to be transcribed. I like that you two should know
my sentiments on all important topics, but I extend this confi-
dence not a jot farther. I firmly believe every word I have as-
serted, because all the facts come from the barbarians themselves
but as I cannot be positively sure they are true I will not
place my veracity on a possibility of having been misinformed
and therefore I depend on your not committing me by showing
my letter I repeat it earnestly, to nobody but your father and
sister, and beg you will assure me that you have not. I do not
mind your reading trifles out of my dispatches, though certainly
calculated for nobody but you two but this letter I do most
seriously restrain from all other eyes.
Midnight.
Mrs. Darner came to me at dinner to-day, and goes to London
to-morrow. I was engaged to Lady Betty Mackinsy, and she went
thither with me in the most deplorable of all nights as bad as
that when the Conways and I were detained so late at Cliveden
and I stepped over my shoes into the water. We heard no-
thing quite new : Nieuport is reckoned safe and Ostend safer,
both which were reported taken. Mr. Batt, whom I met last
night at Cambridge's, is as confident of the safety of Toulon. He,
not Lord Hood, inquired much after you, Lord Mount Edgcumbe
1703] WALPOLE'S ANXIETY ABOUT THE BERRYS. 409
is recovered. The charming man has actually a tragedy just
coming forth at Covent garden.
I like your account of yourselves but hope your grandam
will not sit too dose, but let you both have air and exercise
enough. In every thing else I quite agree with her.
Lady Waldegrave and her daughter come to me to-day from
the Pavilions, where they have been this week, and will stay till
next morning. Good night.
P.S. I fear you have lost y r poor friend Mr. Sept. West.
Lord Orford's strict injunctions that his letter of the
29th should be confined only to the perusal of the Miss
Berrys and their father, might have raised a question as
to the propriety of including it amongst those that are
now published upwards of seventy years after this was
written ; but as he gives as the reason for this injunction
the fear lest his ' facts ' should not be true, and that he
will not place his veracity on a possibility of having been
misinformed, the reason for its suppression has ceased ;
and though there may be some exaggeration in the tone
of his enthusiastic eulogy of the unfortunate Queen of
France, who would not sympathise with the feelings
inspired at the time by her cruel and unmerited sufferings?
The letters from Lord Orford during the month of
November were still addressed to the Miss Berrys in
Yorkshire.
Strawberry Hill, Nov. 5, 1793.
You can, I trust, guess how happy your letter of Friday last
makes me, by telling me how much better you are. I am not
weaning myself, but I do wish you to stay in Yorkshire as
long as you continue to find any amendment. I will even call
it a selfish wish, for it certainly is misery to me to see you both
so perpetually indisposed. Can I love you so much, and so
sincerely, and not be anxious in the very first place for your
healths ? I continually reproach myself with having drawn you
from Italy sooner than you intended I had indeed some strong
reasons then yet I shall not repeat that eagerness.
410
LETTERS. [1793
Enioy the fine weather as long as it will meet you half way.
Unless great rains or snow come, I shall remain here, where I
am warm and comfortable. Tho' I pass three evenings in four
quite alone, they are not at all irksome, which they would be in
London, where I have neither acquaintance nor amusements.
Since the most deplorable of all tragedies, I have heard no
great event. The wolves, in great droves, came out and at-
tempted Nieuport and Ostend, but were driven back. The
Convention pretends that the Eoyalists in La Vendee ^ are
utterly defeated, but I do not receive assignats at first sight.
It is true that there was great slaughter of French noblesse
under the Prince of Conde, when Wurmser stormed the lines
of Weissemberg. This was more to their credit than haggling
for rank. To-day's paper is not come in yet, so my intelligence
is not very fresh but I will wait for it before I send this to the
post. The Convention have lost a good friend Lord G-eorge
Gordon.
Mrs. Darner passed Tuesday with me, and Lady Waldegrave
and her daughter two days. G-eneral Johnstone is returned
from camp; he and Lady Cecilia and Mrs. Johnstone were
here on Monday. These lean articles are all I have to send.
What cousin of yours is wounded ? is it S r Gr. Caley's brother ?
whichever, I hope he will do well.
You have had such a mass of my letters lately, that I hope
you will not catch cold with receiving only this thin one. In
truth, my mind is not at all in tune. The Queen of France is
never for three minutes out of my head. Long as I have lived,
I had not conceived that human nature was capable of such
execrable barbarity and meditated wanton malice as the French
have committed within these five years. As little, indeed, did
I conceive that one human mind could rise to so exalted a pitch
as that supernatural woman's ! No legendary writer, no epic
poet, could have dared to draw so perfect a character with such
excellent sense ! What propriety in her every answer ! and
how accurate a memory of every circumstance that was neces-
sary for her to recollect, with no confusion even of dates. The
monsters her murderers have made her some amends by de-
posing a thousand times more truth than could have been
believed had it come only from her friends. I have no longer
any doubt what her bitterest foes report must be true. It
1793] DOMESTIC NEWS. 411
was their business to blacken her they have made her im-
mortal.
The paper is arrived. You will see several advantages gained
by us and allies. The Duke of York has had good success, and
our prospect is better than you thought. I have not time to say
more, if I had wherewithal. Adieu !
[Strawberry Hill, Nov. 7, 1793.
I often lay the egg of my journals two or three days before
they are hatched. This may make some of my articles a little
stale before you get them ; but then you know they are the
more authentic if the echo has not told me to unsay them.
And if a Prince of Wales drops a thumping victory at my
door as he goes by, you have it hot out of the oven, tho', as
happened lately, not half baked. . . .
Domestic news are scanty, but dismal; and you have seen
them anticipated as the loss of the young Lord Montague
and Mr. Burdett,* drowned in a cataract in Swisseiiand, by their
own obstinate folly.]
When you return to London, if you spy from Highgate a
vast edifice peeping over the shoulder of St. Paul's, dont imagine
that the Pope has sent St. Peter's over hither to secure it from
French atheists. No, it is the new Temple of Venus in Drury-
lane. I assure you that Lord Derby told me a fortnight ago
that he had seen it that morning from Westminster-bridge
towering above all the buildings but St. Paul's. They say the
frontispiece of the scaffolding is a most beautifull sight.
[Nov. 10.
Victories do not come every tide like mackarell or prizes in
the Irish Lottery. Yesterday's paper discounted a little of
Neapolitan valour, but as even the Dutch sometimes fight upon
recollection, and as there was no account yet of O* Ha/rats arrival
at Toulon, I hope he will laugh or example Loro Signori into
spirit.]
1 do confirm my assent to y r staying in Yorkshire as long
as either of you is the better for it. As for the horse, I am
not so fond of young ladies riding in the king's roads. Mr.
* Geo. S. Viscount Montague, b. 1769, only son of Anthony, 7th Viscount
Clias. Sedley Burdett, brother of the late Sir Francis Burdett.
412 LETTERS. [1793
.Ffepatrick, the uncle, was once, in a high chaise, near over-
setting the Duchess of Queensberry, who was on horseback there,
and she called out, ' Oh, pray, Mr. Killp&trick, dont ride over
me.'
[I am not so consentful about going to town myself yet.
What could I do with myself in London ? All my playthings
are here, and I have no playfellows left there ! Lady Herries's
and poor Mrs. Hunter's * are shut up. Even the one game more
at cribbage] after supper is on table, and which is not my
supreme felicity, tho' accompanied by the Tabor and Pipe,J is
in the country or, to say all in a word, North Audley Street
is in Yorkshire. Eeading composes little of my pastime either
in town or country. A catalogue of books and prints, or a
dull history of a county, amuse me sufficiently; for now I
cannot open a French book, as it w d keep alive ideas that I
want to banish from my thoughts.]
Monday Morning, llth.
L. says S r Charles Blagdon is arrived, having been very ill,
and looking so ; the Palmerstons remain in Italy.
[Mrs. Piozzi is going to publish a book on English Synonymes.
Methinks she had better have studied them before she stuffed
her travels with so many vulgarisms !]
One o'clock.
No newspaper is come, whether a symptom of no news, or
rather of some very fresh, how can I tell ? whichever, you must
wait another day, for this must go to the post; and if you
receive no codicil to it the next morning, you will be sure I had
nothing more recent to send. Adieu !
P.S. By a symptom of no news, I mean that the news-
writer was waiting for a mail, and that none was arrived ;
but it is not utterly impossible that the newspaper itself
may have failed, a case that happened before to-day.
* Widow of Dr. John Hunter.
t A manner of designating the Countess of Ailesbury. Wright.
Two old ladies of his society whom he thus called. Wright.
1793] WALPOLE'S HORROR OF FRENCH EXCESSES. 413
Strawb., Thursday, Nov. 44, 1793.
Were the time ever so fertile in entertaining events, still I
had much rather talk' them over with you than send them in
journals. How irksome then must it be to interrupt y r amuse-
ments by afflicting details ! Not that I am now going to grieve
you by any new specific horror, tho' some are apprehended ; and
the countenance of the age is so gloomy, that one can scarce
expect to be the messenger of glad tidings. Nay, I am shocked
at being forced to speak of butcheries as welcome news. Yet
what but the French turning their massacres on themselves can
put a period to their frenzy and abominations? Every day
they invent and propose crimes so incredible, that nobody can
believe they will be practised till it is known that they have
been committed. When rage has mounted to that excess, who
can be sorry to hear that the savage Convention has at once
destroyed one-and-twenty of their own murderers ? And how
striking, that seventeen of those twenty-one beheaded had, not
eleven months ago, voted for the death of the King ! At the same
time, who can comprehend their proceedings ? Several of those
sacrificed regicides died praying for the republic so the woman
who stabbed Marat seemed to be of the same faction, or near
it. What does it show, but that the nation holds assassination
due to the slightest variation in a neighbour's creed from the
opinion of him who has a dagger in his pocket? In such a
conflagration of all virtues, all feeling, all humanity, all justice,
and of all religion, who can dare to flatter himself that the
angelic Madame Elizabeth will escape ? Oh ! nothing but the
monsters making their tyranny intolerable, even to one another,
will extirpate the hydra. Poor Mad. de Biron is still in prison,
and is not allowed even a maid servant. It has been proposed
to force every single woman to accept any man who offers to
marry her ; and this diabolic project is supposed to be aimed at
the violation of the innocent young Princess, sister of the young
King. But I load you with too many horrors but alas! you
would read them in the papers !
At night.
I have been with the Cambridge's, and saw him and both
sons ;* the hens were at roost, and did not appear. Greorge had
* Eichard and George Cambridge. The latter became Archdeacon of
Middlesex.
414 LETTERS. [1793
just heatd that Egalite is actually beheaded; comfortable news
for the doctors of his sect, who may see that no crimes are a
protection. Well, there is another atonement to the King and
the Princesse de Lamballe, and no cordial to Mad. de Sillery
and Pamela Fitzgerald.* No bloodshed, however, allays the
national frenzy : they have now declared war with the Genoese.
Oh ! the more enemies they create the better but I was
grieved this morning to read in the papers that poor Jardin and
his family have been taken by a French privateer, as they were
going to Corunna.
I wish I could revive y r spirits by any gayer scenes, but
where to seek them, or how to blend them with the daily
tragedies, with some of which one is forced to pay one's self for
those one laments ! Oh yes, one tragedy will furnish an agreeable
paragraph. George Cambridge was last night at the first repre-
sentation of Jerningham's new play, and I was delighted to
hear that it was received with great applause and complete
success, being very interesting. The Baviad has been -useful to
it, for there is no love in it. Mr. Cambridge desired me to tell
you that there was one deficiency in it, i. e., y r cousin Miss
Seton should have played in it, for a Governor Seton, and his
wife and two sons, are the principal personages. f
You will perhaps ask why I am still here in the middle of
November ? because in any other year, such a day as this four-
teenth of November would have been thought very fine and
warm in the end of August. I remember that at Florence they
used to boast of their Stagione di San Martino well, to be
sure, the mornings were very clear and bright, but as cold and
sharp as Greenland. Apropos, I see Lord Hood has been
lecturing the little great Duke very proper I wish he had
not been complaisant to that dirty fellow Paoli. I would not
send a man to the latter, unless it were his panegyrist Boswell,
whose pigmies always are giants, as the geese of others are
swans.
When your codicil of visits begins, I suppose you will prepare
* Widow of Lord Edw. Fitzgerald, married, secondly, to M. Piscaire,
died 1831, "better known as Madame de Genlis.
t was called 'The Siege of Berwick/ founded on the story of a
remarkable siege of that place in early Scottish history, when it was
valiantly defended by an ancestor of the name and family of Seton.
1793] DEATH OF LADY WESTMORLAND. 415
me for altering my directions. If I have no letter tomorrow, as
I have no particular reason for expecting one, I shall send this
away on its old route.
Friday noon.
I must close my letter, for I have none from you, nor is even
the newspaper come yet; but what signifies whether the True
Briton or I confirm or postpone the execution of Orleans?
Stay, the paper arrives and says he is dead ah ! and so is a
happy beauty at the top of her prosperity, Lady Westmorland.*
The Doylies told me of her danger two days ago. I am sorry
for her; I knew her a little before she went to Ireland, by
seeing her often with my niece Lady Waldegrave, and liked her
good humour, as well as admired her great beauty ; but there is
no moralizing more on change of fortune, after the enormous
excess of it in the case of the Queen of France. Adieu !
Tuesday morning, Nov. 19, 1793.
As fast as I hear events that are worth sending to you, I
begin my next letter : that not having been the case since my
last, I this moment receive yours of the 1 6th, which sets me to
answering I suppose you expected it would set me to crying,
but I shall disappoint you. In short, without grimace or forced
irony, I approve of your protracting your stay, and giving so
much pleasure to y r good family.
My own motions are undecided yet. I was to have gone to
Hampton last Saturday evening, the Johnstones celebrating
their second grandson's baptism no great occasion of joy, I
think ; but it rained so hard, and was so foggy, that I did not
chuse a voyage over the heath. Sunday was as bad, and I
resolved to go to London on Thursday; but yesterday and to-
day have fallen on their knees, and beseech ed me to stay a
week longer, promising to be as fine as it has been these
six months, and so indeed they are as soft, and of a rich
golden colour over all the trees, that Grolconda is not more
magnificent ; however, Nolito Frondi credere I will determine
nothing, I will wait and see, and the delay in your return does
not increase my impatience to be in town.
* Sarah Child, the first wife of the grandfather of the present Earlof
Westmorland.
LETTERS. [1763
1 am very sorry the papers have been so spitefull to the
house of Seton ; I have seen none of those criticisms ; at Eich-
mond all the reports have been very favorable.
The story of the Frenchman murdered and drowned is not
fact, tho' founded in fact ; but you know that I maintain that
three parts in four of the articles in our newspapers are lies ;
and if the writers do get hold of a truth, they are sure of mixing
it up with a blunder. The case was this : a young Frenchman
with a portmanteau came to Eichmond (not to Cross-deep), and
wanted to go to Kingston, but did not know the way ; two or
three blackguards offered to show him the road, but when
out of the town, robbed him of his knapsack, which frighting
him, and he being strong and active, ran away as hard as he
could, and saved himself, if they did intend worse.
I have answered y r letter, and Mr. Berry I see grows im-
patient for news, but as I said in the beginning, I know nothing
specific: the True Briton is not come in, and I dread it,
expecting nothing but new murders and massacres. There is a
French gentleman at Eichmond, who had remained quiet at
Paris till just now, but perceiving the destroying angel abroad,
applied to Barrere, with whom he had been intimate, for a
passport; Barrere, surprised at seeing him still there, felt a
drop of pity on his red-hot heart, gave him the pass, but added,
6 Depart directly, for we have gone so far, that now we must
go through.' How far that may be, Moloch himself cannot
guess. Of Orleans's exit I know no particulars, nor am I
curious about so foul a wretch. The beheaded Sillery* was
husband of the too well known woman of that name ; she is in
Switzerland, and so is that monster Condorcet, one of the worst
of all, if there are any shades left in the hue of infernals.
It is believed that the Eoyalists in La Vendee have gained
considerable advantages, tho' Barrere lately pronounced them
demolished; but the Convention never utters a sentence of
truth but when they publish their own barbarities. Lord
Moira is said to be going on a secret expedition, and it is sup-
posed to be to the coast of France, in hopes of assisting the
Avengers.
The aspect northward is not so propitious. The King of
Prussia is much suspected of being cooled; L d Malmsberry
* Marquis de Sillery, Comte de Genlis, was executed Oct. 31, 1793.
1793] PROSPECTS OP THE WAR. 417
is going to him, but if he does not carry more weight than the
French can send, I shall not expect much from his address. I
shall he glad not to prove a true prophet, tho' I have appre-
hended these six months, that unless very substantial acquisi-
tions were made that would compensate the expence, a grand
alliance would not hold out another year. I shall lament any
disunion, yet one must not judge immediately from events :
how did we grieve last year for the Duke of Brunswick's pause,
yet by the tedious difficulty we have had in taking Valenciennes
and Conde, and in not taking Dunkirk and Maubeuge, is not it
plain that if that Duke (whom still I do not admire) had
attempted to march to Paris, he w d either never have gotten
thither, or never have gotten back ; yet there is no excuse to be
made for his sacrificing the Emperor and so his highness
seems to think himself, for he has made none.
O'Hara is arrived at Toulon ; and if it can be preserved, he
will keep it.
The True Briton is come in, but without an important
article.
I have written to my last minute, and told you all I know.
Lady Westmorland's vast, enormously vast fortune, goes to her
eldest daughter,* and will make Miss Scott but a middling
heiress. Adieu !
Strawberry Hill, Saturday, Nov. 23, 2 o'clock, 1793.
There has been some delay or neglect, I don't know where or
in whom, that I doubt may have occasioned some confusion. I
received here on Tuesday last yours of the 16 th announcing your
present of yourselves to y r Grr. M. for a week longer ; I answered
it with my approbation that very day, and told you I should go
to London the next day but one for a couple of days ; so I did,
and am this moment returned, when I find on my table yours of
the 14th, dirty and a little tumbled so what happened to it, poor
dear thing, I cannot tell ; but suppose the postman or some
servant had kept it in his pocket and forgotten it for half a
week. It would be vain to inquire ; one never gets anything but
lies on such accidents. I am glad at least that it has reached me
at last ! without it I should not have known that I am to direct
* Sarah Sophia, afterwards Countess of Jersey,
VOL. I. E E
418
LETTERS.
[1793
this to Bransby and super all, I would not lose one of y r
letters. I want no news ; what I contrive to learn is more
than half for y r sakes, and what I wish from you is to be
told that you ride and are both better. My Agnes, I trust,
continues improving, tho' I wish you had told me so oftener of
late.
My jaunt to town seemed at first to have been barren indeed,
called at Mrs. Darner's. She was gone to the play with the Marshal
her father then to the Churchills ; they were at their new pur-
chase at Lewisham then to Mrs. Buller, not at home then to
Miss Farren ; found her and La Signora Madre only. From
them to Lady Bute, and there only Lady Lonsdale and old
Lady Clavering, and for a moment Lady Erskine and her
daughter. With y r leave I thought I might as well have staid
here. Things mended at night. I had been told in Sackvill Street
that Mrs. Darner would probably bring her parent home to
supper and she did. Soon after arrived Oh no ! I have
jumbled the two evenings on Thursday there were only father
and daughter ; it was last night that the latter had collected the
rest for me, who were, my niece Sophia, Mrs. Buller and her
son, f Mistress Buller,' and the Charming Man ; and we had a
pleasant supper. I congratulated the Charming highly on the
success of his tragedy, and on his prologue, which I had seen in
the papers and like ; the epilogue they say is still better. All
this put him in great spirits, and once or twice, apropos de rien,
he blurted out one or two of his gross naivetes. I believe you
read nothing in your Yorkshire but Jacobin papers, for I have
not seen a word against the tragedy or the Story of y r Ancestors,
and Mrs. D. says it has been abused only in two papers of that
dye ; and because there are compliments in the play or epilogue
to the Duke of York, so Fame's quota is handsome. The Substan-
tial I fear will answer worse. Mrs. Pope's illness has interrupted
the career. That is a disadvantage ; and Harris the manager
has behaved most shabbily, and allows the poet but the sixth
night instead of the third and sixth, because forsooth there are
but four acts ! This is an unprecedented innovation, to which
the Charming should not have yielded ; but he certainly was
not born to squabble with a Jew and besides, I could swear,
would have given his play for nothing rather than not have it
represented. It is to be played again on Wednesday, and the
1793] EXPEDITION UNDER LORD MOIRA. 419
Marshall and I are to go to town on purpose ; Mrs. Darner will
have a box.
You will be happy, I am sure, to know perhaps have seen in
the papers already, unless you see none but Jacobin prints that
poor Jardin and his family were retaken by a Spanish privateer
from the French one who had taken them, and have been carried
to the spot of their destination, Corunna vulgarice, the Groyne.
Well ! but do I say nothing of the war ? What cares Mr.
Berry how many visits I made and found nobody at home ? he
had rather I had gone to the coffee-house or to Lord Onslow
patience, my good S r . To-night is but the vigil of a great deal.
It has been known for some days that, tho' the foul fiend Barrere
proclaimed to the Pandemonium above a fortnight ago that the
Royalists in La Vendee were totally demolished, they have a
very large army and have taken some important places. Our
Ministers probably know much more than I do, for to-morow
Lord Moira is to sail with a great force for the coast of France.
St. Maloes is supposed the object, but no doubt that has not
been told. He certainly carries ten thousand men and 400
emigres from Jersey ; the French General Con way goes with
him, I heard of no other of the refugees. What fleet, military
stores, &c. ? the papers will tell you ; I cannot, who neither love
details, nor remember them. Most anxious I shall be, and most
zealous I am for the event yet I am not sanguine. The
Ministers seem to have waited till the crisis was mature the
measure of iniquity was certainly full, and I would hope has
shocked thousands and ten thousands. Some of the wretches in
the Convention you see have said they think they have gone far
enough I do not think they have, while they suffer one another
to breathe ; however, they have made a good beginning with
Orleans, Brissot, &c. &c. &c.
Lord Moira's behaviour is noble ; he offered himself for this
service some months ago, and he has not, since his father's death,
less, with the estates of Huntingdon, than 18,000^. a y r . Oh !
but it is a joke to talk of a great fortune why Miss Scott's is
sunk to be of the second rate. The whole property of the Childs
vests now in Lord Westmorland's eldest daughter ; and Dent,
Child's partner, says before she is of age (and she is not above
six) the savings will be above a million, tho' Osterley and the
seat in Staffordshire are to be kept up at the great expence as
E E 2
420
LETTERS.
[1793
in Mr. Child's life the shop pays 25,000?. a year. I am glad
the expence will continue, as the money will circulate, but I
hope Catherine and the King of Prussia will not attempt a
partition of the property.
Madame D'Arblay has written a pamphlet for the French clergy.
I sent for it in town, and then forgot to bring it with me. I
shall wait with patience till I go back, for Mrs. D. says it is a
ineer nothing.
Sunday night, 10 o'clock.
It cannot rain, but it thunders. I have had another letter
from you to-day, and there is strong presumption that Lord
Howe has taken six or seven French men-of-war of the line.
My heart takes joy on the first, and my head will on the second,
if confirmed ; for they are in different departments, my heart
presiding over home affairs, and my head over foreign. Void
the marrow of the rumour. A Lieutenant arrived yesterday at
the Admiralty from L d Howe, who, learning that part of the
Brest fleet had sailed to meet and convoy their West Indiamen,
his lordship, 26 strong, had set out post, and had actually got
between the French and their coast, and last night and this
morning all London was expecting a second dispatch, at least
this evening. All I can do here is to listen for ringing of bells
they do not ring yet.
Well, now for your letter, which, in compliment to your
curiosity, I postponed answering till I had tapped Lord Howe.
Y r dear good Grrandam ! I hope you have told her over and
over how much I approved of your visit to her ; how constantly I
have recommended y r staying longer. Y r gratitude and affection
for her have always charmed me ; and it is very natural that I
should admire how two young women can show and feel such
kindness and attentions to antediluvians !
Our weather it seems still continues better than yours ; yester-
day was as mild as April ought always to be, and to-day is better
than most English Junes. The leaves all went at once, but
being of so rich a hue, the garden looks like the country of El
Dorado. You seem to apprehend that it will not be found
intrinsically resembling ; but I find that in y r Riding of York-
shire they read nothing but Jacobin journals. I like the account
of y p horse much better than of your politics. I shall not be able
to report his health to y r friends near the ferry, whom I am not
1793] REPORTED NAVAL VICTORY. 421
likely to see again this season. I am still less likely to connect
with y r Mrs. Osbaldiston mercy on us ! why she has ten children
I would as soon visit a boarding dame at Eton School. Lady
Poulet's house would not hold her and her brood, so she has hired
Dr. Duval's parsonage, which is much less, so her progeny, I sup-
pose, are to go to grass upon the glebe. She can have the house
but for seven months, and pays extravagantly for it, 100 guineas.
Monday.
I have waited to the last minute of the post time for news or
the newspaper, and neither come. Is this a good symptom or a
bad one?
Berkeley Square, Nov. 30, 1793.
I will send you no more victories of Lord Howe till be sends
them himself. In what a hubbub have we been kept aye, and
still are, ever since this day se'nnight, when we were told he was
catching six of the Brest fleet. Every moment we expected to
see him sailing into St. James's with six French men-of-war tied
to his chariot's wheels, and dragging their West India fleet in
tow. Then came an account from two of his own squadron that
had left him actually boxing with two French ships, and then
and then a dead silence. Not a cockboat as big as you can see
from Dover Cliff has come in with a syllable for five days ! All
the town has been running about, asking, guessing, conjecturing,
and spreading imaginary reports. ' Any news of Lord Howe ?
What ! no news yet ! ' Well ! this morning a Danish or Dutch
ship has told somebody, who has told everybody, who have told
the True Briton, who has just told me, that Lord Howe has
taken five men-of-war, and will be here with them presently.
If they come by here before this must go to the post, you shall
know ; if not, you must scold the east wind, they say, or learn
what you can from y r Jacobin newspapers, who will not tell
you a word of truth as long as they can help it. I must go
talk of something that interests me more than random rumours.
I ha\re seen y r servant John, who gives me an excellent ac-
count of you both, and last night I received y r short letter of
the 25th. I thank you most cordially for letting me hear so
frequently. My Agnes I know does not love writing, yet me-
thinks I should like now and then to see a line from her dear
422 LETTERS. [1793
hand, were it but in a postscript. The volumes I send you are
my great occupation, yet I shall be most heartily glad when I
shall have no longer occasion to dispatch them ; besides the best
cause of their cessation, my poor lame fingers have no great
delight in the business. I supped at Mrs. Darner's last night
with the D 89 of Kichmond, Lord Derby, the Farrens, and y r
grandsire's historian,* and shall go to Lady Lucan'sf this even-
ing to meet Mr. Burke and Mr. Gibbon, I will not indulge
its unwillingness, tho' I plead it to any other occasional cor-
respondent and employ Kirgate; but I really should be ashamed
to dictate even to him all the trumpery that I write to you,
because I write to you two just as I should talk the only com-
fortable kind of letters.
Poor Lady Harriot Conyers is dead. S r Charles Bladdon is
returned alone, having been extremely ill. He looks ill, and is
much emaciated, yet recovered. He inquired after you both
with great zeal, which I liked.
The night before last I met at Lady Bute's the Pope's Nuncio,
Mr. Erskine, who told us this story. The Eoman mob last year,
when threatened by the fiends at Paris, rose and murdered a
Frenchman. His Holiness sent a monsignore in his coach to
appease the tumult, but he could not prevail. The people
insisted on the expulsion of all the Gauls, and a very sensible
tribune leant on the window of the coach, and argued with the
Legate, who at last said, ' But you should not confound all the
French together ; there are some good and some bad.' ( Very
well,' said the plebeian orator, ' but you must tell our holy Fa-
ther, that unless he sends away all the French, we will dispatch
them, and send the good to heaven and the bad to the devil.'
As soon as we find Lord Howe, we shall transfer our anxiety
and curiosity to Lord Moira. An English captain of a sloop, who
was one of the 250 prisoners of ours that were transferred from
Dinant to St. Maloes before they were sent away to G-uernsey, has
deposed before our Cabinet that, complaining of the badness of
the bread with which they were fed while confined at the latter,
the chief of the guard said, < You are not worse treated than
we ourselves,' and showed him a black loaf composed half of
sand.
* Meaning Mr. Jerningham, author of < The Siege of Berwick.'
t Grandmother of the present Earl of Lucan.
1793] LAST LETTER TO BRAXSBY. 423
Half an hour after Three.
I have this moment seen a person who has just been at the
Secretary's Office, where they know no more of Lord Howe than
the man in the moon, or perhaps not so much, for there they
say all lost things are deposited. So I will go and be dressed,
and you must satisfy yourself with being sure that you know as
much as all London. Adieu !
[Berkeley Square, Wednesday, Dec. 4, 1793.
I begin my last letter to Bransby that I may have it ready to
send away the moment I shall have anything worth telling.
What is become of Lord Howe and Co. you may guess if you
please, as everybody is doing.
I am weary of conjectures,
but shall not end them like Cato, because I take the fate of a
whole fleet a little more likely to come to a solution than doubts
in metaphysics ; and if Lord Howe should at last bring home
two or three French men-of-war, one would not be out of the
way to receive them. In the mean time let us chat as if the
destiny of half Europe were not at this moment in agitation.
On Sunday night I found the Comte de Coigni* at Lady
Lucan's. He was to set out the next morning with Lord Moira's
expedition as a common soldier. This sounded decent and well ;
but you may guess that he had squeezed a little Frenchism into
his intention, and had asked for a vessel and some soldiers to
attend him. I don't know whether he has condescended to go
without them. I asked him about his daughter ;| he said he
did not believe she is in prison : others say it is the Duchess de
Fleury, her mother-in-law. I have been surprised at not seeing
or hearing anything of poor Fleury,| but I am told he has been
forced to abscond, having narrowly escaped being arrested by
a coachmaker to whom he owed 5001. for carriages, which, to
be sure, he must have had, or bespoken at Paris before the
Revolution.]
Just as I had written the above, a ridiculous accident hap-
pened. The postman brought me a letter, directed as he thought
* Younger brother to the Due de Coigni, the Grand Ecuyer of Marie
Antoinette, and great uncle to the present Due de Coigni. M.B.
t The Duchess de Fleury.
J The Due de Fleury, the Comte de Coigni's son-in-law.
424
LETTERS.
[1793
to me, the predominant feature on which was Berkeley Square,
with my name not quite so distinct. I opened, and found an-
other within for Lady Orford, so plain as I thought, that tho'
my surprise made me look at it again, I still saw nothing but to
Lady Orford, You know my extreme stupidity when I have taken
anything into my head or my eyes. I had no more doubt of having
seen Lady Orford than if I had written those words designedly
myself. The next step was to conclude that this was some joke,
and that you was the person meant. I tore it open, and tho' in
the second line stood Lady Oxford, so strongly had my fancy
taken possession of me, that tho' the letter consisting of four
sides of congratulations on her ladyship's recent marriage, I
could perceive nothing but a dull joke, as I still supposed it, till
in the fourth page appeared Lady Oxford in still larger letters
than all the rest. I have no excuse for my blunders, but that
on both directions the x was so ill marked, or rather only half
of it, that it looked on a reinspection more like an r than an x,
and being coupled with Berkeley Square, where L d Oxford does
not reside, it appeared indubitably designed for me : nor indeed
did Lord Oxford, whom I never saw, nor ever heard mentioned,
and whose late marriage which I think I did see in the papers,
but did not in the least recollect, come into my head ; tho' above
a year ago something of the same kind happened, when his
steward sent me accounts of the races at Hereford : but I am not
apt to recollect things and people about whom I don't care a
straw ; for you are sensible how much I care, or not at all. I
bundled up my blunders with a million of humble excuses to their
lordship and ladyship ; but I wish the man would have a house
in London, or I am very capable of being in the scrape again, as
I seldom remember to read a direction, nor can treasure up in
mind I don't know who's colts or weddings.
Sophia came to me just after I had sent my packet to the post.
Had she arrived half an hour earlier, would it have been very
unlike me to imagine that the letter to Lady Orford was wit of
hers, and that she came to see what effect it had ? I am very
glad I did not make that mistake too ; I fear I should not have
been so indifferent about it.
[Thursday, noon.
Yesterday came a letter to the Admiralty from Penzance,
notifying that Lord Howe has taken five of the Brest squadron.
1793] MR. JEHNIXGHAM'S PLAY. 425
3 o'clock.
Another account is come to Mrs. Nugent* from her husband,
with the same story of the five captive French men-of-war, and
so that reading is admitted; but for my part, I will admit
nothing but under Lord Howe's own hand. It is tiresome to be
like the scene in ' Amphitryon/ and cry one minute, ' Obvious,
obvious,' and the next, ' Dubious, dubious.' Such fluctuability
is fit only for a stockjobber. Adieu ! I must dress and dine,
or I shall not be ready to wait on y r grandfather Seton.]
Wednesday, past 11 at night, Dec. 6, 1793.
That there may have been such persons as King Arthur, and
the Wandering Jew, and Lord Howe and his fleet, I will not
take on me to deny ; yet as History is silent on what became of
them, I will not easily credit their re-existence. I know I
have been told late this evening that signals of a fleet have
been seen off Plymouth, supposed to be Lord Howe's ; but as it
is also supposed that he had no French captures with him, I
don't see why this should be imagined, unless more is known
than has come to my knowledge ; and there I must leave this
mystery till to-morrow.
I hope to have a letter from you then with a new direction,
for that to Bransby^f I trust is obsolete. As no grandmother
is any longer an obstacle, I unchain my impatience, which has
behaved like an angel, and I shall begin to look for signals
from Highgate Hill.
I went last night to the Charming's tragedy,^ and most
sincerely found it much superior to my expectation. The lan-
guage is very good ; there are pretty similes and allusions, no
bombast, nothing low, and the ordonnance well contrived. It
seldom languishes, and a scene of generous contention between
your two uncles really fine. Mrs. Pope plays admirably, and
was extremely applauded ; the men do not shine, but the whole
was well received, without a single murmur against any part.
Y r pretty friend Mrs. Stanhope was in our box, and supped
with us afterwards at Mrs. Darner's, charging me to say much
for her to you. Well ! there have I been twice at the play
* The wife of Admiral Nugent M. B.
t The seat of Francis Cholmeley, Esq., in Yorkshire. M.B.
\ He means Mr. Jerninghani's play, ' The Siege of Berwick.' M.B.
426
LETTERS.
[1793
this week! I confess I felt very comfortably this morning,
knowing I was not to go to the play again to-night. I had not the
least difficulty in getting in or out at either theatre, nor was
fatigued ; but I do not like exhibiting my antiquity in public :
it looks as if I forgot it.
Monday morning.
I had no letter from you on Saturday as I expected, with
directions for a new direction ; and if I receive none to-day, as
I begin to fear I shall not, it being past twelve, I shall not
venture this till to-morow, not being sure where you are, tho'
Mrs. D. risked one on Saturday to York with the newspaper,
and I desired her to say I would write to-day. If I do not, it
is your fault who promised me a direction.
This letter, tho' begun three days ago, will clear up no
mystery, for no news yet from Lord Howe. All we know is,
that he did not get up with the five French ships, for they
escaped him and are returned to Brest. You may perhaps
expect a little from Lord Moira, the French having had time
to guard all the coast, and the Eoyalists of La Vendee, tho' they
have twice again very lately beaten the Eepublicans, being
retired to the Loire. Not a tittle do I know of other news of
foreign or home consumption.
Past one.
I this moment receive the double letter from Dear Both
but suppose I shall be able to say little to it, tho' its Doublicity
(for I had rather forge a word than use one so repugnant to our
triple veracity as Duplicity) makes it twice as welcome as its
predecessors ; but it is the hour when my coffee-house generally
opens, and I expect to be interrupted, and have heard nothing
to add within this half hour. My Agnes's letter is exactly like
her modesty about her own drawings, always depreciating herself;
but I am not blind to the merit of her pencil or pen, as I was
to the letter for Lady Oxford, who I am told is not yet so.
Had I known the marriage not yet solemnized, I should have
been still more persuaded that it was levelled at one of you.
You bid me direct to the post office at York. Hark ! some-
body knocks ! It was the Duchess of Gloucester, * and she has
staid so late, I must hurry and finish, only that I cannot forget
* His niece, one of the daughters of his brother, Sir Edward Walpole.
1793] LORD HOWE. 427
what it is so important to me to ask you bid me direct to
York till I direct my coachman to Audley Street. Why ? are
you to arrive in a balloon ! are you to stop no where ? You
tell me to expect you on Wednesday or Thursday sevennight;
but there is no date to Agnes's or your half of the double letter,
which I conclude was written on Saturday, but by not mention-
ing on what day you are to set out, nor how long you propose
being on the road, can I guess how long I may direct to York ?
I am to sup in Sackville Street * to-night, and will learn, if I
can, greater certainty. Well, the middle or end of next week
(for I will allow for accidental delays) will I trust put an end
to difficulties of correspondence, and to correspondence by
letters. Adieu !
[Dec. 13, 1793.
You will not wonder at my dullness about the time of y r
setting out, and of the gites you are to make on the road ; you
are used to my fits of incomprehension ; and, as is natural at
my age, I believe they increase. If I believed Lord Howe's
success too rapidly, you have seen by all the newspapers that
both the Ministers and the public were equally credulous from
the collateral channels that imported such assertions. Well!
if you have been disappointed of capturing five or six French
men-of-war, you must at present stay y r appetite by some
handsome slices of St. Domingo, and by plentiful goblets of
French blood shed by the Duke of Brunswick, which we firmly
believe, tho' the official intelligence was not arrived last night
(Thursday). His Highness, who has been so serene for above
a year, seems to have waked to some purpose ; and, which is
not less propitious, his victory indicates that his principal, the
King of Prussia, has added no more French jewels to his regalia.
I shall like to hear the National Convention accuse him of being
bribed by a contrary Pitt's diamond.]
If you have seen in the papers the relation of Lady Wallace's
brutality to Lady Dashwood, you know how well qualified she
was to be an advocate for Dumourier : at Paris she might have
been aide-de-camp to Mile. Theroign. Are such furies of the
same species, of the same sex with the unparalleled Marie
Antoinette ?
[I have a card from the Margravine to sup at Hammersmith
* Where Mrs. Darner then lived.
428
LETTEES.
[1793
on Tuesday/ whither I shall certainly not go. Do you think,
if the whole circle of Princes in Westphalia were to ask me for
next Thursday evening, * that I would accept the invitation ?]
You will wonder perhaps that I have tumbled to tittle-tattle,
and not dropped a syllable on Lord Moira and Toulon : in fact
I know nothing positive about either am very sanguine about
neither. My hopes are that the Convention will be distracted,
and not know which of their armies they may venture to di-
minish to support the most urgent.
[Saturday, Dec. 14, 1793.
I am not going to dis-laurel the Duke of Brunswick, but not a
sprig is yet come in confirmation. Military critics even con-
jecture, by the journals from Manheim and Francfort, that the
German victories have not been much more than repulses of
the French, and have been bought dearly. I confess my best
hopes are from the Factions at Paris if the gangreen does not
gain the core, how calculate the duration ? One wonders now
that France, in its totality, was not more fatal to Europe than
even it was. Is not it astonishing that after five years of such
havoc, such emigrations, expulsions, massacres, annihilation of
commerce, evanition of specie, and real or impending famine,
they can still furnish and support armies against us and the
Austrians in Flanders, against the Duke of Brunswick and
Wurmser, against us at Toulon, against the King of Sardinia,
against Spain, against the Koyalist in La Vendee, and along the
coast, against our expedition under Lord Moira ; and tho'-we
have got fifteen of their men-of-war at Toulon, they have six-
teen or more at Brest, and are still impertinent with a fry of
privateers. Consider too that all this spirit is kept up by the
most extravagant lies, delusions, rodomontade; by the extir-
pation of the usual root of enthusiasm, religion, and by the
terror of murder, that ought to revolt all mankind. If such a
system of destruction does not destroy itself, there is an end of
that ignis fatuus-, human reason and French policy must
govern, or exterminate mankind.
I this moment received your Thursday's note, and with those
sweet words < You need not leave a card, we shall be at home.'
I do not believe I shall send you an excuse.
* The evening the Miss Berrys were to arrive.
1793] LORD ORFORD'S LINES TO MISS BERRY. 429
The Marshal (Conway) has stepped in to tell me he has just
met his nephew L d Yarmouth, who has received a letter from a
foreign Minister at Manheim, who asserts all the D. of Brunswick's
victories and the destruction or dispersion of the French army
in that quarter. The Earl maintains that the King of Prussia's
politics are totally changed to the right, and that 18,000 more
of his troops have joined the Allies. I should like to know
and to have the Convention know that the murder of the Queen
of France has operated this revulsion. . . .
There ! there end my volumes to my great satisfaction ! If
we are to have any bonfires or illuminations, you will be here
to light them yourselves. Adieu to Yorkshire !]
P.S. As I was going to fold my letter, Lord Derby and
Miss Farren came in: from good breeding I was dumb on
politics ; at last, she asked me if any news ? I said coolly, as if
relating some trifle, ' The D. of Brunswick has totally dispersed
the French army.' The Earl's circular face became oblong. I
added with 'the same composure, f and the King of Prussia has
taken his part decidedly.' The Earl said, ' I suppose he is well
paid for it.' And then to comfort himself, added, ' Macbride
says L d Moira must return,' which I do not believe.
In the month, of December this active correspondence
closed between Lord Orford and the Miss Berrys ; and the
following lines, signed ' 0,' though not dated, were pro-
bably addressed to his pen on this occasion :-
TO
MY PEN,
ON THE CESSATION OP OUR CORRESPONDENCE BY HER RETURN.
Here rest thou, faithful servant of my heart !
With thanks I quit thee, though rejoic'd to part.
Thou kind one, hast a tongue to absence lent,
And almost chear'd regret into content,
For while each thought of mine thou hast conveyed,
A pen still kinder has each note repaid j
And thus, while distance urg'd its tyrant laws,
Our converse scarce appear'd to feel a pause ;
Yet now thy freedom I with joy restore,
And thy fond service hope to ask no more.
To Miss B. 0.
430
LETTERS.
[1793
The lines addressed to one of Miss Berry's own pens,
by Mr. Edward Jerningham,* may properly be here intro-
duced, though written on new year's day.
LINES WKITTEN BY ONE OF HER OWN PENS.
TO MISS BEEKY.
Though wit's bright sun your sportful thoughts display,
And through your converse dart a dazzling ray !
Yet still we praise thy magic's softer pow'r
When easy friendship smooths the social hour !
When o'er another's pain you pour the balm,
And round your bow'r diffuse a heartfelt calm !
Thus in your summer mind at once are seen
Italia's skies and Albion's soothing green !
Jan. 1, 1793.
* Edward Jerningham, so often alluded to as % ' the charming man/ was
born 1727, of a Roman Catholic family. He was educated at Douay and at
Paris. His first work was the poem in favour of the Magdalen Hospital ;
his best was the ' Rise and Progress of Scandinavian Poetry.' A collection
of his poetical dramas was published in 1806. Died 1812. He lived in
intimacy with the most distinguished literary men of his times. Imperial
Dictionary of Universal Biography.
1794] LETTER FROM LORD ORFORD. 431
LETTEKS.
1794.
Miss BERRY'S entry for this year is ' Agnes went to
Cheltenham with Mrs. Lockhart. We were a month at
Prospect House, Isle of Thanet.'
The correspondence with Lord Orford continued fre-
quent as ever, when, by his removal to London, or by
their excursions elsewhere, the inmates of Strawberry
Hill and its little appendage were separated. The first
of these epistles is dated April 16th.* The two next are
as follows :
April 21, 1794.
You are most kind indeed in offering to come to town for
me, but you certainly shall not. I will not inveigle you from
Cliveden when the verdure, blossoms, and weather are in per-
fection. In this country we should always take summer by
its forelock, tho' it may claim its waiting, like the groom of
the stole, out of the regular course. We may have no more
sunshine before our faithfull October. I can force myself to
go out in an evening if I will. I was at Mrs. Darner's last night,
and staid till they went to supper, and was not fatigued.
There were her parents, the House of Argyll, the Grreatheads,
Mrs. Hervey, and the Charming Man and not a spoonfull of
news. To-day I have seen nobody yet, but it is only one
o'clock, and I have been airing in my coach as far as
Fulham.
I have found on my table a rhapsody in verse on my re-
covery, so extravagant that, added to the post-mark Isl&worth,
it can come from no mortal but our neighbour whose Cupid
from the top of his gazebo was drowned. I must give you a
slight sketch : Science begs Jove to spare my life ; Jove is very
* Published in 1846.
432
LETTERS.
[1794
willing; but not being so omnipotent as Science and you perhaps
imagined, he calls for his household gods, his Lares ; and who
do you think they were? why Chiron and Esculapius, and
Hermes (it is lucky for my reputation, as Mr. Courtney talks
of the fire of my old age,) that he did not call Mercury ! The
Trinity of Lares herbalize the plains of Thessaly, but find no
plants good against gout. So, while such pagan efforts fruitless
prove,
The God of Mercy pities feeble Jove.
I am really ashamed to transcribe such abominable nonsense.
The conclusion is as absurd, but not so entertaining ; it says, I
Each theologic sect can calmly view,
And, uncorrupted, relish but the true, &c.
It is refreshing to read Mr. Courtney's satire after such flattery.
Marshal Conway came in as
My bane and antidote were both before me j
I showed him both, and he would have had a copy of the
panegyric, as perfect in its kind, but I thought it not fair to
expose my poet laureat farther. The Marshal bids me tell
you that however proud you may be of your nightingales,
they have as large a colony at Park Place. He brought me
the complete conquest of Martinico, with the capture of an
hundred merchantmen and other vessels, and an enormous
quantity of stores.
There ! I shall wait for nothing more. I think I send you
enough, as my Advertiser is daily.
Strawberry Hill, May Day, 1794.
I will come out of town ten times to my going thither once
(as a tutor at Cambridge said to his pupils, scolding them for
leaving their chambers and studies so often, and going out of
college), if it brings such good luck and good news. Yesterday,
as I got into my coach, I received the extraordinary gazette,
without a mouthfull of success, and a miscarriage of half the
victory by the non-arrival of General Mansel, who at last, poor
man 1 I find came too soon for himself. At night, John had
been in Twickenham, and heard that a courier galloped thro'
the village as fast as he could considering that he was loaded
1794] LETTER TO MISS AGNES BERRY. 433
with a stack of laurels that he was carrying to the Duchess of
York to make bonfires at Oatlands. I knew not for what, till
on my breakfast-table just now I found y r welcome letter, and
another from Marshal Conway confirming the great victory, the
prodigious number of cannon taken, our small loss, and the
capture of the French general as fortunate for him as Mansel
was unlucky, for the Jacobin commander would certainly have
been guillotined. As their attack was meant to save the town,
I conclude Lendrecies will be, as Mrs. Piozzi calls everything
that is not so, the exergue of our victory. As I have bushels of
may, tho' no milkmaids as you are not at Cliveden, I shall make
a garland for myself; and as I cannot yet dance, I shall sit and
hear the nightingale sing its country dance, as I did last night.
The Abbe Nichols is in favour with me for carrying the
good news to you. Did he not seem quite an emigre, hoping
he should soon be restored to his charioinie at Paris ? I shall
not carry my congratulations to the water-side here. I believe
Lally is already restored to more than he ever had.
I shall be glad to hear what you have learnt of Mr. Gibbon's
MSS. ; but that will not be before Saturday. Tho' the verdure
is not brilliant from want of rain, I do not think of returning
sooner. That evening, I conclude, you will go to hear the
Banti but perhaps you may call for a moment. I am so de-
lighted with being here again, that I do not like to lessen my
term. Adieu!
That of July 31st is addressed to Miss Agnes, then
on a visit to Cheltenham.
Strawberry Hill, July 31, 1794.
The longer I know you, my sweet Agnes, the more I find new
reasons for loving you, as I do most cordially. You threatened
not to write, and I have already received a charming letter from
you ; and now, as you never disimprove, I am confident you will
let me hear from you sometimes, tho' I will not be exacting, nor
expect you to do what you do not love, especially as I shall hear
accounts of you from Mary ; for you cannot help writing to one
you have constantly talked to ever since you was born. What
I shall most and earnestly wish to hear is, that you mend fast
and then I shall not regret your absence.
Y r father and sister arrived soon after seven yesterday even-
VOL. I. F F
434 LETTERS.
[1794
ins I did not expect them so soon, concluding they would be
pressed to stay longer at Park-place, and would be frail. They
have found the alterations to the house advanced rapidly but
those details I shall leave to Mary.
I am quite happy with the favorable account you received of
dear grandmama. I have received no letters for either of you
since, but yours for Mary to-day. Nor have I a tittle to tell you,
but that I dined with Lady Cecilia at Hampton on Tuesday, with
Mesdames Wray and Jefferies and the Wheelers, who returned
to Eichmond by 8 o'clock in dread of Lady Bute's footpads,
who have scared the whole neighbourhood. In the evening
came a whole cacklehood from the Palace.
Y r sister is as much delighted with Oxford as I expected she
would be, struck with profound respect for Blenheim, as was fit,
but not a quarter so delighted with Nuneham as I am and she
forgot to ask to see the room with my tapestry.
I am glad you are comfortably lodged, and don't much
lament your want of prospect. You will return with the more
satisfaction to Cliveden.
Your pussy is enchanting. With all the graces of her kind,
she has all the sense of a dog. She literally comes when I call
her, tho' above stairs, follows me wherever I go without being
called, and meets me when I come home. Still I shall wean
myself from her, as it is time for me to do from everything, if
I can, but shall not restore her till you are resettled at least,
not till the workmen are out of your house.
I know nothing from the Continent, but that armies retire
before the infernals, and that there has been a new butchery at
Paris, in which, amongst more than 40, the Princess d'Hemmfs
husband has lost his head but I will say no more of those
horrors ; I wish I could help thinking on them !
Y r sister will tell you, with truth, that I am quite well, and
enjoy this immortal summer, tho' we have lost all verdure and
a great many leaves. We have had some hours of rain on
Sunday, but it made no impression on the turf.
My duty to my silent humble relation, and my love to her
really good daughter, tho' I don't insist on your delivering
either. I say nothing as a conclusion from myself, for I trust
all my actions and all my letters tell you how much I am
Y rs
0.
1794] ME. AND MRS. GREATHEAD. 435
In September, the Miss Berrys took up their residence
at Prospect House, near Broadstairs. Miss Berry's first
letter from thence to Mrs. Darner alludes to their meeting
with Mr. and Mrs. Greathead* (of Guy's Cliff,. Warwick-
shire), of whom she often makes mention in subsequent
letters and journals, and whose friendship she so highly
valued through life.
From Miss Berry to a Friend.
Prospect House, Sept. I, 1794.
What jolly souls, as you truly say r are the Greatheads ! We
dined with them yesterday with such an Irish, vulgar^ acting
Capt. Ashe I who we are to see act c Hamlet,' at the Margate
Theatre on Tuesday next. Such singing, such wit, such laugh-
ter ; and they, good-humoured creatures, so enjoying it ! But
do not pity me and suppose that I did otherwise. When I am
neither morally nor physically unwell, as few people observe
more, so nobody can be more entertained with this sort of acci-
dental society, marked with any character of any kind. It is
all food for my mind, and while I can have the blessing of being
able to digest that food, with one or two kindred souls, whose
perfections it enables me the more truly to appreciate, and the
more highly to value, I trust I shall never lose my taste for it.
The first letters preserved from Lord Orford to the
Miss Berrys of the month of September are of the 21st
and 24th,
Sunday, Sept. 21, 1794.
I begin my Journal to-day, tho' only the eve of its departure,
and tho' I have nothing new to tell you from Europe or from
Strawberry-hill, but much from the circumambient district, for
the marauders have begun their courses again. A young Mr.
Digby, who lodges in Twickenham near Mrs. Duane, was, with
another gentleman, in a post-chaise robbed at one o'clock at
noon by two footpads on the heath just beyond Whitton. The
son of the maltster here by the post house, ditto robbed by
* Mr. Berry appears to have been on terms of intimacy with Mr. Great-
head as far back as 1790, when he writes to him from Florence.
p F 2
436 LETTERS. [1794
ditto ; _ but, on inquiry, this happened at Kennington Com-
mon, where they are more apt to be hanged than to rob,
however I shall grow uneasy when you return.
My nieces the -Lisles and Miss Hotham dined here yesterday,
as you knew they were to do, and I had judged well, for
the last saved me" all expence in conversation. At night I
went to Lady Onslow's, at Kichmond, and came back unrobbed.
There I found the elder, not Agnes's, Darrell, who was very
civil about her, but, unlike his brother, was much more struck
with her companion, whom he took for her aunt, and thought
extremely agreeable. I cannot say I ever was of his opinion,
was I ? even before she spoiled our meeting at Park Place.
Ten at night.
Yesterday was most tempestuously windy, but to-day has been
warm and fine, and I trust you have had a pleasant journey.
Tell me how you like your new habitation, and if you find it
comfortable; but do not go and prefer the ocean to the poor
Thames !
Maugre banditti, I have been at Lady Bute's door this even-
ing, but she was not well enough to see me ; and I returned with
my purse and watch in my pocket. Since that I have been sit-
ting with the Doyleys and there must end my letter, for I shall
certainly hear nothing to-morow before the post goes out, and
only write now in husbandly obedience, as I will again, as soon
as I know anything that will give body to a paragraph.
I beg of you both to return revived and looking as fresh as
Agnes did from Cheltenham, and then I shall not lament my
involuntary widowhood, for I do not wish, as Lady Wishort says,
for any iteration of nuptials, nor to have an opportunity of ex-
pressing myself like a tender husband of whom I have just
been reading in Lysons, who set up as a tomb for his wife with
this epitaph, ' Joan le Feme Thomas de Frowicke gist icy, et le
dit Thomas pense de giser aveque luy.' You see folks were not so
delicate in that age as we are, tho' to sleep with the departed
would have been even a more scriptural phrase, and more in the
style of our good ancestors, qui n'entendoient pas raillerie en
tout, as the French have done of late years. Good night, sans
raillerie, le feme Marie and le feme Agnes, &c.
HOEACE DE OXFORD.
1794] SUCCESSES OF THE FEENCH. 437
Monday morning 1 .
In the new edition of the History of Highwaymen, for Mr.
Digby & Co., c Kobbed in a post-chaise by two footpads ;' read,
' Eobbed, as he was walking alone on the heath, by two highway-
men.' As Truth lies at the bottom of a well, the first who dips
for her seldom lets the bucket down low enough.
Wedn., Sept. 24, 1794, near one.
I have received y r long letter from Prospect-house and thank
you most kindly for it, but cannot answer it now, for the
Churchills are here in the room while I write ; it has rained
heavily ever since breakfast, and they can neither go out in their
chaise which they had ordered, nor into the garden; and just as
I was going to begin my letter, the newspaper came in, and he
has been reading it aloud to us paragraph by paragraph, half of
which are full of bad news, of retreats of our army, of the cap-
ture of our Mediterranean fleet by the French, and, what I
think as bad as anything for Europe, of the King of Prussia
haVing been forced to raise the siege of Warsaw. Before I
could digest half this, he came to a sale of milch cows I don't
mean the King of Prussia, nor that we are again one of his
milch cows ; but Mr. Churchill, who wants some for Lewisham,
and has been reading of them to his wife, till I have not a clear
idea left, but about y r bad post-horses, and y r liking y r new
residence, at which I rejoice. Canterbury I know by heart. It
was the chief fund of my chimney-pieces and other morsels.
The tomb of the Black Prince I have no doubt being of the
time ; his father's and mother's figures in the Abbey are also
bronze and well executed, and the first posterior to his son's, 'as
also that of Kichard Ilnd, and of Henry IVth ? that you saw at
Canterbury. By St. Austin's gate I constantly passed as I went
to Mr. Barret's, and admired as you do so justly.
Horace Churchill dined and supped with us yesterday. This
evening we shall go to the Doileys, so I shall not have a moment
to mj self to do what I like best writing to you. My kin leave
me to-morow, and the Marshal, who has been in town to embark
some more of his men for Holland to make a better mouthful 1
for the French, is to come to me till next morning, and on Friday
I shall go to town myself to receive my money, so I know not
when I shall be able to write before Saturday or Sunday and
438 LETTERS. [1794
oh ! alas ! here is Mrs. Wheeler and her sister, and I must finish,
assuring you I am perfectly well, as I hope you both are.
Adieu !
In his letter of the 27th, he adverts to that constant
theme of his advancing age the fear of being too
exacting in his wonted tone of half melancholy, half
pleasantry.
[Strawberry Hill, Sept. 27, Saturday night, 1794.
I am now alone, having reserved this evening to answer your
long and Agnes's short letters, but in this single one to both,
for I have not matter enough for a separate maintenance.
I went yesterday evening to Mrs. Darner, and had a glimpse
of her new house literally a glimpse, for I saw but one room
on the first floor, where she had lighted a fire, that I might
not mount two flights ; and as it was eight o'clock, and quite
dark, she only opened a door or two, and gave me a cat* s eye
view into them. One blemish I had descried at first the
house has a corner arrival like her father's. Ah me ! who do
not love to be led thro' the public ! I did see the new bust of
Mrs. Siddons, and a very mistressly performance it is indeed.]
Apropos, Miss Farren is missing. She is known to have landed
last Sunday not a word from her since, which makes one
ay, and two fear that she is ill on the road. Were it her
mother, she herself would have written.
From Mrs. D. I went to my sister's, where I found Sophia,
Lady Englefield, Mrs. and Miss Egerton, and Mr. Falkener.
Played cribbage with them, and sat by while they supped.
This is not only the whole of my private history, but of the
world's too, as far as it has informed me, except that Lord
Southampton does not go to fetch the future Princess of Wales,
precedents having sworn that by their books, it is clear that it
must be her chamberlain, tho' she has none before she is she ;
and he, they say, is to be Lord Pembroke a very good choice.
Lady Worcester, Lady Weymouth, and Lady Parker are kissing
the public's hand for the bedchamber, and the two first will pro-
bably kiss tout de bonof the third's chance I know nothing.
[Mrs. D. was surprised at my saying I should expect you
after another week. She said you had not talked of returning
near so soon. I did not mention this as if to gainsay your
1794] LETTER TO THE MISS BERRYS. 439
intention: on the contrary, I hope and beg you will stay as
long as either of you thinks she finds the least benefit from it
and after that too, as long as you both like to stay. . . .
It is natural for me to delight in your company, but I do
not even wish for it if it lays you under any restraint. I have
lived a thousand years to little purpose, if I have not learnt
that half a century more than the age of one's friends is not
an agrement de plus.]
Tho' I should not doctrinate myself with these wholesome
reflections, as I think you will do me the justice to own I am
frequently doing, (tho' perhaps I may not practise all I preach
to myself,) still I should not want monitors, who ever and
again cry
Poor Anacreon, thou'rt grown old !
I was diverted a few days ago with a paragraph in the True
Briton, which, supposing that the Prince is to reside at Hampton
Court, said that, as there is a theatre and a tennis court in the
Palace, Twickenham will not want a succession of company,
even when the venerable Earl of Orford shall be no more.
I little thought I was as attractive as a theatre or a tennis
court, or served in lieu of them. Pray, Lady Leah and Lady
Kachel, venerate y r Methusalem !
What an odd creature Mr. Ehymer is ! I am glad he did
not propose again that his Dolly hymnia should dine with
you too.
[I wish you had seen Canterbury some years ago, before they
whitewashed it ; for it is so coarsely daubed, and thence the
gloom is so totally destroyed, and so few tombs remain for so
vast a mass, that I was shocked at the nudity of the whole.
[Sunday night, 28,
I have received another letter from dear Mary of the 26 th ,
and here is one for sweet Agnes inclosed. By her account of
Broadstairs, I thought you at the North Pole ; but if you are,
the whales must be metamorphosed into gigs and whiskies, or
split into them, as heathen gods would have done, or Rich the
harlequin. You talk of Margate, but say nothing of Kingsgate,
where Charles Fox's father scattered buildings of all sorts, but
in no style of architecture that ever appeared before or has
440 LETTERS. [1794
since, and with no connection with or to one another, and in all
directions ; and yet the oddity and number made that naked
tho' fertile soil smile and look cheerful.] Do you remember
Gray's bitter lines on him, and his vagaries and history ?
[I wish on your return, if in good weather, you would contrive
to visit Mr. Barrett's, at Lee ; it is but four miles from Canter-
bury. You will see a child of Strawberry prettier than the
parent, and so executed and so finished ! There is a delicious
closet too, so flattering to me 1 and a prior's library so antique,
and that does such honour to Mr. Wyat's taste ! Mr. Barrett,
I am sure, would be happy to show his house to you ; and I
know if you tell him that I beg it, he will produce the portrait
of Anne of Cleves by Holbein, in the identic ivory box turned,
like a Provence rose,* as it was brought over for Henry 8 th . It
will be a great favour, and it must be a fine day, for it lives in
cotton and clover, and he justly dreads exposing it to any damp.
He has some other good pictures, and the whole place is very
pretty, tho' retired.
The Sunday's paper announces a dismal defeat of Clairfait ;
and now, if true, no doubt the French will drive the Duke of
York into Holland, and then into the sea ! ora pro nobis !]
The following letter from Miss Berry bears tlie same
date as the preceding one from Lord Orford. The same
paragraph in the newspaper respecting the Prince of
Wales seems to have equally amused Lord Orford and
his correspondent.
Prospect House, Sunday night, Sept. 28, 1794.
I did not suppose that the Prince of Wales was likely to
become your successor in anything, till the newspapers told me
so. The enclosed paragraph, which we cut out of the Times
the other day, amused us all not a little.
The storm has at last ceased here, and we have seen one fine
calm day, which, I assure you, appears to great advantage on
our boundless prospect. We were at Raanagate in the morning,
which is, of all the gates in this neighbourhood, by far the
prettiest, I think; and since dinner have walked to one of
Afterwards Sir Saml. Rush Meyrick, and in 1858 was at Goodrich
Castle, Herefordshire. It is marvellously fine. Cunningham.
1794] LETTER FROM MISS BERRY. 441
Lord Holland's strange, would-be Grothick buildings at Kings-
gate. We are so far both from the two metropolises of Margate
and Ramsgate, that having as yet had no inducement strong
enough to take us out three miles in cold dark nights, we have
spent every evening at home and alone, except last night, when
we dined at Broadstairs, our nearest town, with a Scotch Lord
and L y Balgonie, people who we never visited before ; but as
they belong to the county in Scotland to which we ought to
have belonged, and have been very civil to us, we wished to be
the same. Your favourite, L d Galloway, was one of the party,
and I have got a headache to-day by dancing Scotch reels with
him and one of his daughters. Mr. Parsons, that high priest of
ennui, is in this part of the world ; and I meet every day
hundreds of other faces that I know, in our airings of a
morning; but we are so penitus toto divisos orbe, at this
North Foreland, that they can none of them trouble us.
Mrs. Fitzherbert is at Margate driving away sorrow in a
phaeton and four, and the Dss. of Rutland at Ramsgate, being
driven after by a man of the name of Devisme, or Deval, who,
without knowing her, professes the most ardent passion for her,
and literally follows her wherever she goes. His carriage is
always at the tail of hers ; when she stops, he stops, and when
she goes on, he pursues. You may guess what a noise a
circumstance of this sort must make in a place like this, where
the man, who seems to be not at all known, has acquired the
name of Malvolio.
There was a report yesterday in Margate of a great defeat of
Clairfait ; but as Mrs. Darner says not a word of it in her
letter of to-day, I trust it is not true. Our situation in
Flanders needs not this, I fear, to make it worse than it is.
How Holland is now to be saved I do not see ; and how we are
to be safe when it is gone, I as little see ,- and how and why
the D. of York stays to have half his army destroyed, and the
other half driven home, 1 still less see. I will not ask you to
answer as many questions as the Marshall. But do put on your
spectacles, and if you see anything good that I don't see,
candidus imperti. If you were in the Isle of Thanet, you
would never guess that anybody ever looked that way, or
suspect that we were in the midst of a war such as Europe
never saw before. Here everybody is riding and driving, and
442 LETTERS. [1794
pfiaetoning and curriding away at such a rate, as always
recalls to my mind the odd but clever phrase of your friend,
G-eorge Montague 'Well, I am glad I have such rich re-
lations.'
We can have no letters from you now till Tuesday, nor did
I indeed expect them, as you mentioned being in town on
Friday night. However, I shall send you this to-morrow, as
I hope you will be wanting to hear from us.
Monday morning.
And the finest morning that ever was seen a bright sun,
calm air, and smooth sea ; we mean to be out as much as
possible to enjoy it. Farewell, and let us hear from you very
soon. Agnes has just brought this great bumbling letter, which
obliges me to a great waste of paper. She requests you to
direct and forward it.
From Lord Orford.
Sept. 29, 1794, 3 o'clock.
Codicil to my letter of this morning.
Yes, it is very true the plot, and it is not true, at least not
known yet, that Clairfait has been so thoroughly defeated, tho'
forced to retreat ; and it is not true that Lord Cholmondeley is at
Cowes, for he was in this room at one o'clock, and confirms the
truth of the intended assassination of the King by a poisoned
arrow thro' a reed, and it was to have been on the Terrace at
Windsor yesterday se'nnight, but the arrow was not ready so
you see murder is not dead with Robespierre. The Duchess of
Grloster has been here till this moment, and my letter must wait
till to-morrow, for the post is gone.
L d Cholmondeley came to acquaint me that the Prince of
Wales had sent an express for him, and told him, that being on
the brink of marriage, he should set him and Lady Cholm. at
the head of his family ; and as yet had named nobody else so
perhaps my report of L d Pembroke is not true. The D 88 says
L d Southampton does go for the Princess I tell you what I
hear, but answer for nothing ; I have no more right to know
truth than the rest of the world, who do not care a straw whether
what they tell be truth or not. L d Cholm. heard yesterday from
Townshend, the factotum of the police, that he himself seized
1794] PLOT TO SHOOT THE KING. 443
the two assassins of the Old Man of the Mountain, and is in
chace after a third ; and the D ss had heard of the plot too. For
example, everybody has affirmed for this last week that the
King is building a superb palace at Kew, and has begun pulling
down houses reduced to a simple fact, a couple of rooms are
erecting there for Prince Ernest.
L d Cholm. told me what touches me much more ! He once
hired Prospect House, and says it is a single house and the very
temple of. the winds, and that he once rose out of bed thinking
a troop of them were coming to eject him. I hope they will
give you warning without filing a bill ; and I am afraid to men-
tion it lest you should think me impatient to bring you back
not in the least go any whither, where you can be safe, but do
not be blown into the chops of a French privateer.
Report a mighty newsmonger with whom I deal lavishly
when you are absent, but of whom I have a bad opinion, and do
not delight to let within my doors at other seasons, informs me
that Mr. Douglas, Lady Catherine's husband, is to be Chancellor
of Ireland, where there is going to be a prodigious remue-menage,
that Lord Mansfield is to be President of the Council here, in
the room of the new Viceroy L d Fitzwilliam, and the orator
Grattan Chancellor of the Exchequer to the latter.
Don't you pity Margaret Nicholson ? She came before her
time or she might have been entitled to the honours of sepulture
with Mirabeau, Marat, and other felons of this consecrating age.
Poor woman! She is forgotten but indeed so are Jacques
Clement, Eavaillac, and Damien, and even the Convention's ally,
Ankerstrom apropos Mrs. Ankerstrom's mother is not returned
yet but in truth, she is so gentle, humane, and agreeable, that
nobody can part with her her daughter alone is more amiable.
Eleven at night.
I have been at Lady Douglas's, where the Mackinsys, On slows,
and everybody agreed in the reality of the plot. The known
criminals are three young apprentices, two of whom are in
custody. The plan was to raise a riot in the playhouse to occupy
attention, and during the confusion, to shoot the King. A
watchmaker, who was employed on the fabrication of the dart,
discovered the design. I pretend to no further intelligence yet.
A story of very different complexion is arrived to-day, when
Lord Leicester has received a letter from the post office (his new
LETTERS. [1794
bureau) informing him that two Frenchmen have escaped from
Dieppe and bring an account of Talien having proclaimed the
young King in Paris not to be credited easily. I send you
accounts from commissions of Oyer but you will wait for those
of Terminer, which seldom accord.
The Comte d'Artois is certainly with the Duke of York ; Prince
William's letters say so. The Comte de Provence is settled at
Venice, and receives a pension from the senate. The Cardinal
de Bernis is dead. Dixi.
Strawberry Hill, Oct. 1, 1794.
My letters are continually giving themselves the lie ; but I
have warned you, when I tell you news, to wait for the echo.
This is a favourite proverb with me, but I except Prospect House
out of my injunction, for when the wind blows there 1 beseech
you not to wait for the echo, but to descend to the plain.
Clairfait has not been defeated from anything we know ; and
whether poor young Louis XVII. is alive or not, it is not pro-
bable that he has been restored but to raise our Stocks. Mr.
Mackinsy observed to me justly, that it was very unlikely that
two French royalists should escape from France if royalty was
reestablished.
The assassination plot here is universally believed, and no
doubt had deep root. Three young English apprentices were
not likely to have had zeal enough of themselves to meditate
royal murder. It tells me that our Jacobin Clubs having been
checked by the seizure of so many of their instruments, have
been working under ground. I wonder what diabolic sacraments
they have invented to bind their devotee, since the Pandae-
monium has abolished all religion.
I have received y r Sunday's dispatch, and begin this answer
before dinner against tomorrow, lest I should be interrupted
then. Where is Lord P., that he leaves the whole coart open
to Malvolio ! And so you have Mrs. Fitzherbert ! I suppose
our countesses (I don't mean my two, but), especially our latest,
are now thinking on, or ordering their robes, since Mrs. F. has
waved her claim to Ich Dien, tho' the Catholics, they say, are
going to be admitted ad Eundem in Ireland. I see Mr. Berry
frown hither yet I own I am rather for those who prefer three
Gods to none ; and I abhor a system of liberty established by
guillotines, and daggers, and poisoned arrows. The French have
1794] CHANGE IN FASHIONABLE HOURS. 445
equalled the horrors of the Inquisition in Peru and Mexico :
Atabalipa's bed of roses was momentary in comparison of what
Marie Antoinette suffered from the moment she was stopped
on her escape and carried back to Versailles.
I went to Bushy this morning, and not finding Lady Gruilford
returned by Cliveden to look after your new plant shed. It is
quite finished except glazing, and the garden is as fine as that
in Milton's ' Allegro,' and much prettier, tho' not so immortal.
The Divine is come back ; I shall propitiate her tomorrow by
a couple of partridges, as you are not here to accept my roasted
offerings.
Lady Bute I doubt is going. It will be very inconvenient to
my Lord Castlecomer, for her house you know was my resource
in winter evenings. I have outlived almost all my acquaintance
of my own century, or the remainder are grown too young again
ever to be in their own houses, unless they expect half the town,
and that at midnight. I came into the world when there were
such seasons as afternoons and evenings, but the breed is lost !
and if any of them did exist, they would be of no more use than
an old almanack. I believe Hannah More herself will soon be
obliged to keep saints' nights instead of saints' days.
Ten at night.
Well ! well ! well ! and so at last I fib, when I think I am
most sure of my veracity ! I have been with the Doiley's, who
have had two officers from London with them this morning, who
say the plot is now disbelieved in town, and that nothing will be
made out no, then I am sure the Ministers have acted sillily
in publishing it before they were certain of their ground. I have
a mind to send you no more news, for what can one believe?
And yet what can I do ? I had rather write what others invent,
than be forced to invent myself. Pussy and I have no adventures :
now and then a little squabble about biting and scratching, but
no more entertaining in a letter than the bickerings between any
husband and wife.
They say (my best authority) that the packet is supposed to
be taken, as no mail has arrived for so long a time, and Pichegru
may be Stadtholder for ought we know. Good night ! I am
disgusted with the falsehoods I have told you, and I am not at all
in a humour to add to the number you may as well rely on
the daily papers and dispense with me as your gazetteer.
446 LETTERS. [1794
Thursday morning.
I have received the thumping letter, sealed with a foreign
coronet, which accompanies this for you, sweet Agnes, but not
inclosed in it. The True Briton is not arrived, but I have had
a note from the Pavilions with a letter to be franked, and as
the duchess tells me nothing new, I suppose there is nothing.
I cannot tell how y r weather is on Mount Ararat, but my little
hill only hops, which I conclude in the Hebrew only means
charming, and October but just shows those marks of a green
old age that become so beautiful a summer, like that good sort
of old men whose ceconomy begins to take a tinge of gold.
The newspaper is come in, but tells one neither yes nor no on
anything that signifies, so my veracity is in no danger. Adieu
The following letter from Miss Berry appears to have
been of the same date as Lord Orford's last.
Prospect House, Wednesday morning, Oct. 1, 1794.
In vain you may say 6 Begone my cares, I give you to the
winds, 1 we shall certainly not be blown away from you, for it has
been the finest calm, clear weather for these last three days at
the Prospect House, that can be conceived, and the sea is so
covered with our vessels, of all sizes, from seventy-fours to fishing-
boats, that you have as little chance of getting rid of us by a
French privateer ; tho' at this instant, from my window, I can
clearly see that hostile coast. I always long to exclaim to it, in
the words of Dante
Francia, Francia, vituperio delle gente !
an epithet which may certainly now be applied to it, with more
justice, than to the former peccadillos of poor, little, insignificant
Pisa, to whom the author addressed it. With a glass I can discern
several high buildings near the coast, the situation of a village
and a windmill ; and at Eamsgate they say they have seen the
tri-coloured flag flying in a camp near Calais.
With respect to our return, you are exactly as I could wish
you very anxious to get us 'back, but not at all displeased at
our staying a little longer while the good weather lasts.
L d Cholmondeley, in spite of the bad character he gives the
Prospect House, inhabits the next house, within fifty yards of it,
1794] FROM MISS BERRY TO LORD ORFORD. 447
in just the same exposed position, where he is expected to return
to-morrow evening. The little boy, L d Malpas, who has conti-
nued here, is as fine a stout, healthy child as you ever saw, and
the image of his father. That L d Choi, is to be put at the head
of the Prince's family is really news, as everybody has been
anxiously making out lists of his household, andL d and I/ Choi,
were in none that I have either made or heard made; tho' I
think them perfectly proper people for such a situation, and
only wonder nobody thought of them before. We say at Broad-
stairs that L d Sutherland is to go over with L d Southampton to
fetch the P ss , in which case, I should suppose, she must be
intended to continue in her household. Much as attendance
on princes and places at court are laughed at and abused (by
those who can't obtain them), so desirable do I think any sort
or shadow of occupation for women, that I should think any
situation, that did not require constant attendance, a very
agreeable thing.
What a strange business is this plot of assassination ! But I
cannot help thinking it will be found never to have gone fur-
ther than the mad heads of these three or four poor apprentices,
led astray by the nonsensical and pernicious doctrines they hear
in their clubs and societies, and pushed on and encouraged by
much more profligate villains, who would willingly make use of
their feeble arm to create a confusion, which, in some way or
other, they suppose (and perhaps too truly) they could turn to
account.
I heartily wish the story f m Dieppe might prove true, because
I think an obligation for a civil war to call off their troops, is
the only thing that can save us and Holland ; and besides, if they
must go on filling the world with crimes and carnage, while they
are committed among and upon one another they are certainly
doing the least possible mischief, and nine times in ten, I am
convinced, their punishments will fall on the guilty, let them
be inflicted by and on whatsoever party.
Mr. Douglas has, and dare say will bustle well for himself;
whether he can bustle himself into the Chancellorship of Ireland
I know not ; but I know he bullied himself into the Secretary-
ship, a method, I believe, much oftener successful with Ministers
than used by those who deserve to be so.
Talking of Ireland puts me in mind of poor L y Lynnot, who
448 LETTERS. [1794
has been so extremely ill that it seems almost settled that she
is to come to us for advice and change of air. If she comes,
she comes alone, in which case I shall be much mistaken if you do
not find her much less disagreeable than you suppose, or at least
in no respect the trouble-fete that she appeared to you last year.
I am sorry that you would, and did, see Mrs. Darner's house
before it was ready to be seen, for fear that f m seeing nothing
well but its only defect (the corner entry), you should take one
of your sudden prepossessions, which you say yourself (tho' in
all cases /won't allow it) totally deprives you of future judg-
ment.
The Grreatheads are returned to Margate, and we are going to
dine with them to-morrow. This is our first gaiety, for, except
our dinner at Broadstairs, we have spent every evening at home
and alone. But the rides and drives here in fine weather are
really charming and almost infinite, for the country, tho' not
without trees, is so perfectly open and unfenced and unditched,
that one may steer to almost any part of the Island with a com-
pass in hand, without meeting the smallest obstacle to turn you
half a yard out of your course. The unaccountable colony of
buildings at Kingsgate exactly answers your description. Altoge-
ther they are an ornament to an open country, tho' separately they
are one worse than another. But it is really very odd that any
man should have had the rage of building so much, and in so many
different styles, without ever deviating into any one ever seen
before, or worthy to be seen again. Mr. Coutts at present inha-
bits the large house the Italian Villa as it is called the front of
which is in much purer taste than many Italian villas ; but I
should think the very large pediment and colonnade not project-
ing, but sunk into the house, must make it a bad and incon-
venient dwelling. If the weather should be fine when we
leave this, and we find it compatible with our journeying with
our own horses, we will certainly go and see Mr. Barrett's, in
which case I shall beg you to advertize him of our visit, that we
may not be taken as swindlers come to steal his Anne of Cleves,
or to see his house under false pretences.
And now farewell ! I shall leave a corner for my last words to-
morrow morning.
Thursday morning.
I would not seal my letter till the post came, in case it
1794] LORD ORFORD TO MISS BERRY. 449
might produce anything to add ; but I have nothing but a letter
f m Mrs. D., just setting out for Groodwood. Farewell, then, for
the present, and let us hear f m you soon, for I like your letters
when you have nothing to say, almost better than when you
have much.
It is no small proof of the extraordinary sensitiveness
of Lord Orford, both to the welfare and to the possible
wishes of Miss Berry, that he should, on expressions so
general as those contained in this letter of October 1st, in
favour of a situation at court, have been fired with alarm
at the idea that she wished for such an occupation for
herself or for her sister, and at the same time be longing
to be the means of gratifying any wish she might enter-
tain.
Saturday, Oct. 2, 1794.
I receive y r letter of Wednesday but this moment, and not
having a tittle of news to tell you, and receiving at the same time
one from Mrs. Darner that gives an account of her sister, who
is so dear to me, I shall defer replying to yours till I have
more to say. I only see that Talien has been nearer to being
treated like a king than to restoring one, and that the Con-
vention and the Jacobin Club are advancing towards a civil
war, and much harm may it do to either or to both ! .
I have been writing to Mr. Barrett, but cannot help adding
a word on a passage in y r letter, on which I had determined to
meditate till tomorrow ; but lest you should think that you can
drop a word or hint a wish that does not make an impression on
me, I must add a few lines, tho' I have scarce time. To my
extreme astonishment you speak with approbation of a place at
Court ! Is it possible you should like one ! or can I assist such
a wish ! Interest I have none upon earth anywhere, nor if I
had, w d condescend to employ it for any one but for you or y r
sister. I have been rummaging my head, and can see no glim-
mering but one : my telling you of L d Cholm. perhaps led you
to think I might try thro' him. For you I would. Maid of
honour I can scarce induce myself to believe you w d submit to :
bedchamber-woman you may perhaps mean destined they
most probably are by this time ; but if you have such a wish, it
VOL. I. G G
450 LETTERS. [1794
shall not fail thro' my neglect, Therefore, make me an imme-
diate answer, and a direction to him, if you wish I should write
to him.
From Miss Berry. ,
Prospect House, Oct. 5, 1794.
MY DEAR FRIEND, Your letter, which I have just received,
would make me laugh, if your kind affecting attention to my
every supposed wish was not much nearer making me cry.
The sentiments I expressed in my last, with respect to places
at court, were merely general, and occurred to me from having
heard them laughed at and abused by those to whose idleness
and insignificance no court could add. Your letter first sug-
gested the possibility of their application to ourselves, and at
the same time a probable means of success. But as for myself,
I feel to belong so entirely to the two or three people in this
world in and by whose affection, friendship, and society I alone
support a sickly existence, that any situation that in any degree
separated me from them, were it that of the Princess herself,
instead of that of her attendant, would by me be shunned as a
misfortune. As to my sister, I trust I shall see her happily
established in a respectable marriage, the best and most de-
sirable of all settlements for a young woman.
I know you are aware, and do me the justice to feel, how
little the native pride and independence of my mind has ever,
in any circumstances, been swayed by motives of interest, and
that from principle, and not from any romantic contempt for
the goods of this world, or of ignorant insensibility to their
advantages. You cannot wonder, therefore, that I should
sometimes cast an anxious thought towards the possibility of
my sister's feeling, in more advanced life, the evils of a narrow
fortune, to the thoughts of which it is not without effort that I
have accustomed myself. I am writing in a hurry for the post
of to-day, but I think I have said enough to convince you how
exactly my sentiments are your own on this subject. I wish I
had said or could say enough to satisfy my own heart with
respect to you to your offering that interest which I know
you not only never prostituted to power, but never conde-
scended to employ, even for those who had every claim upon
you, except those of the heart.
1794] LETTER FROM MISS BERRY TO LORD ORFORD. 451
While I retain these, be assured your interest will be a sine-
cure with respect to my further demands upon it.
Farewell.
To the Earl of Orford.
From the Same.,
Prospect House, Monday, Oct. 6, 1794,
MY DEAR FRIEND, I feel not to have said half enough to
you in my hurried letter of yesterday, and yet I know not in
what stronger terms to express your total misapprehension of
my meaning. Can you possibly conceive me a bedchamber
woman dawdling away my time in waiting-rooms, and stuck
up with people who might probably as heartily despise me as I
should them,
Far from all joys that with my soul agree
From taste, from learning, very far from thee !
No, my dear friend, my attendance shall be of a very different
sort, and the willing homage of a grateful heart to a character,
which courts could never either captivate or corrupt. I should
not think it necessary again to mention this subject, because I
am sure a moment's thought will convince you what must be
both my own and my sister's ideas upon it in every light, but
that I know how difficult it sometimes is, to erase a first impres-
sion from your mind.
It blew last night what the sailors call a capfull of wind,
after several perfectly calm days; and we have just heard the
melancholy tidings that two small vessels were wrecked between
this and Ramsgate. These incidents are so common on every
coast, that they make but little impression except upon us
inland people. And when do you turn your faces inland again ?
I hear you say why certainly the beginning of next week, or
sooner, if the weather should become bad ; for all comfort and
amusement here depends upon the weather. A vile situation
for this climate, you will say. I have made a sketch of the
Prospect House for you, that you may yourself judge of the
snag retreat we have been inhabiting. L d Cholmondeley's
house, much as he abuses the situation, is within fifty yards of
ours, and much civil parley has taken place between us. They
6 G 2
452 LETTERS. [1794
have with them a Mr. Lee, an old acquaintance of ours, who the
other day gave us a long account of all the particular civilities
that accompanied the Prince's interview with L d ChoL, and his
desiring him and L y Choi, to be at the head of the new house-
hold. He says L d Choi, declined going to fetch the P ss , which
the Prince wished him to do, because during the time of his
embassy he must be considered as receiving orders from and
acting under the Ministry, with which he wished to have nothing
to do, and made a sort of proviso for the future freedom of
his political conduct and sentiments. This is attempting to
thread a needle, which, I should think, he will find impossible.
I have not heard from Mrs. D. since she got to Goodwood,
therefore your letter was the first that informed me of the D S3 ' S
continued illness, for which I am really sorry on every account.
We are going to-morrow to the play at Margate with the
Grreatheads, to see Hamlet acted by a gentleman; and very
gentleman-like acting I dare say it will be, but I expect to be
much amused. Mrs. Siddons left this the very day after we
called upon her, so that we were none the better for her neigh-
bourhood.
Farewell ! Your little scrap yesterday I hardly consider as
a letter, and therefore hope to hear from you very soon again.
Once more farewell !
The correspondence on this subject would be incom-
plete without Lord Oxford's letter of October 7,* which
has already been published in part.
[Strawberry Hill, Tuesday, Oct. 7, 1794.
Your answer, which I own arrived a day sooner than I flattered
myself it would, I wish it could have told me how you passed
the storm of Sunday night 1 has not only relieved me from all
anxiety on the subject, but has made me exceedingly happy; for
tho' I mistook you for a moment, it has proved to me that I had
judged perfectly rightly of your excellent and most uncommon
understanding. Astonished I was no doubt while I conceived
that you wished to be placed in a situation so unworthy of your
talents and abilities and knowledge, and powers of conversation.
* Published in part in 1846.
1794] LORD ORFORD TO MISS BERET. 453
I never was of a court myself, but from my birth and the posi-
tion of my father could but, for my first twenty years, know
much of the nature of the beast ; and from my various connec-
tions since I have seldom missed farther opportunities of keep-
ing up my acquaintance with the interior. The world in general
is not ignorant of the complexion of most courts, tho' ambition,
interest, and vanity are always willing to leap over their informa-
tion, or to fancy they can counteract it ; but I have no occasion
to probe that delusion, nor to gainsay your random opinion that
a court life may be eligible for women yes, for the idle ones
you specify, perhaps so, for respectable women, I think, much
less than even for men. I do not mean with regard to what is
called their character, as if there were but one virtue with which
women have any concern. I speak of their understanding and
consequential employment of their time. In a court there must
be much idleness, even without dissipation, and amongst the
female constituents much self-importance ill founded, some am-
bition, jealousy, envy, and thence hatred, insincerity, little
intrigues for credit, and but I am talking as if there were any
occasion to dissuade you from what you despise, and I have only
stated what occasioned my surprise at your thinking of what you
never did think at all.
Still, while I did suppose that in any pore of y r heart there did
lurk such a wish, I did give a great gulp and swallowed down all
attempts to turn y r thoughts aside from it, and why ? Yes, and
you must be ready to ask me how such a true friend could give
in to the hint without stating such numerous objections to a plan
so unsuitable for you. Oh ! for strong reasons too. In the first
place, I was sure that, without my almost century of experience,
your good sense must have anticipated all my arguments ; you
often confute my desultory logic on points less important, as I
frequently find ; but the true cause of my assenting without suf-
fering a sigh to escape me, was because I was conscious that I
would not dissuade you fairly without a grain or more of self
mixing in the argument : I would not trust myself with myself ;
I would not act again as I did when you was in Italy, and
answered you as fast as I could, lest self should relapse. Yet,
tho' it did not last an hour, what a combat it was ! What a
blow to my dream of happiness should you be attached to a
court ! for tho' you probably w d not desert Cliveden entirely,
454 LETTERS. [1794
how distracted would y r time be ! But I will not enter into the
detail of my thoughts ; you know how many posts they travel in
a moment when my brain is set at work, and how firmly it
believes all it imagines. Besides the defalcation of y r society, I
saw the host of your porphyrogeniti from top to bottom bursting
on my tranquillity. But enough I conquered all these dangers ;
and still another objection rose. When I had discovered the
only channel I could open to y r satisfaction, I had no little
repugnance to the emissary I was to employ.* Tho' it is my
intention to be equitable to him, I should be extremely sorry to
give him a shadow of claim on me; and you know those who
might hereafter be glad to conclude that it was no wonder they
should be disappointed, when gratitude on your account had
been my motive. But my cares are at an end, and tho' I have
laboured thro' two painful days, the thorns of which were
sharpened, not impeded by the storm, I am rejoiced at the blunder
I made, as it has procured me the kindest and most heart-
dictated and most heartfelt letter that ever was written, for
which I give you millions of thanks. Forgive my injurious
surmise ; for you see that tho' you can wound my affection, you
cannot allay its eagerness to please you at the expense of my own
satisfaction and peace.
Having stated with most precise truth all I thought related to
yourself, I do resume and repeat all 1 have said both in this and
.my former letter, and renew exactly the same offers to my sweet
Agnes, if she has the least wish for what I supposed you wished.
Nay, I owe still more to her, for I think she left Italy more
unwillingly than you did, and gratitude to either is the only cir-
cumstance that can add to my affection for either. I can swallow
rny objections to trying my nephew as easily for her as for
you ; but having had two days and a half for thinking the case
over, I have no sort of doubt but the whole establishment must
be compleatly settled by this time, or that at most, if any places
are not fixed yet, it must be from the strength and variety of con-
tending interests ; and besides, the new Princess will have fewer
of each class of attendants than a queen, and I shall not be sur-
prised if there should already be a brouillerie between the two
Courts about some or many of the nominations. And tho' the
interest I thought of trying was the only one I could pitch upon,
* His nephew, Lord Cholmondeley. Wright.
1794] LORD ORFORD TO MISS BERRY. 455
I do not on reflection suppose that a person just favoured has
favour enough already to recommend others. Hereafter that
may be better ; and a still more feasible method, I think, would
be to obtain a promise against a vacancy, which at this great open
moment nobody will think of asking, when the present is so
uppermost in their minds. And now my head is cool, perhaps I
could strike out more channels, sh d your sister be so inclined ;
but of that we will talk when we meet.]
Eleven at night.
I could not possibly, from different intermissions, get my letter
finished before the post went out. I shall hope to hear, on its
arrival to-morrow, that you have not been carried off either by
Sunday's hurricane or by a privateer.
I see with pleasure that the Convention and the Jacobins
have been breaking, tho' perhaps patched together again for the
present. It will break out again. The former are wofully
uneasy. They complain of factions everywhere, tho' trying to
conceal their disasters by boasting of victories ; but they display
their wants and their deficits lament the loss of their commerce
and manufactures, which themselves have destroyed. They
tremble at the crowds in Paris, and wish to thin them ; are sick
of anarchy; but their efforts to disperse the former, and to lessen
the latter, will disperse the dissatisfaction thro' the provinces,
and augment the latter. It is plain they fear not being able to
contain the capital in obedience; and if they fail there, who is
to govern the armies ? These grievances will, I think, produce
a civil war, or some kind of counter-revolution. So be it ! Nei-
ther will settle the country soon, nor is it to be wished it should
be. It will require time to amend Frenchmen or Frenchwomen,
were the task possible.
Our footpads seem dispersed. I believe they no longer met
with game ; our old does took the alarm, and kept close in their
burrows. I have been in their warren at Richmond for the two
last evenings ; so they will have no claims on me when you
return. Good night ! I reserve a morsel of my paper in case
of having anything to answer. Methinks my whole time is em-
ployed in writing to you, or in being frightened about you.
Pray come back, that I may have time to think on other
people.
456 LETTERS. [1794
Tuesday, Oct. 14, 1794.
I hope it was diversion that had diverted you, for you was
not very clear when you wrote your last. It was dated on
Thursday the 9th, and I received it this morning, the 14th. I
did on Saturday expect a letter to tell me when I might expect
you, and I did hint at my disappointment in the cover of a
letter I inclosed for Agnes.
With the lingering note of the 9th I received y r orders for
Mrs. Eichardson. I have desired her to tell you that you will
hear from me to-morrow morning (by the coach too); and this is
what you will hear.
I am rejoiced you have been at Mr. Barrett's ; tho' it will
have made Strawberry sink in y r eyes, Lee is so purely Grothic,
and every inch of it so well finished. I am still more glad that
your visit thither, instead of hurrying you, has not made you
risk Shooter's Hill and Blackheath. Well, I hope on Thursday
all my alarms will be at an end, and that I shall neither dread
tempests, nor privateers, nor highwaymen. Come and enjoy your
own balcony and little conservatory, and a friend who hopes to
see you looking much better for y r expedition, and Agnes as
charmingly as she returned from Herts, and who always wishes
to have you both pleased, tho' your absence always fills him with
fear of one sort or other.
I have been at Eichmond this morning to inquire after the
eldest girl of the poor Valetorts, who has a scarlet fever of the
worst kind, and of whom Dundas had no hopes on Sunday.
S r Greorge Baker has been down, and there are rather better
symptoms. They have moved into another lodging ; but the
poor mother is in a piteous way, within a month of her time,
and dreading the arrival of the grandmother post on hearing of
the danger.
Lady A. has been at Goodwood, and returns to-day. The
Marshal tells me from town, that the D 8S is better. I wish fer-
vently it may be so, but I expect that they only wrote so to
prevent the visitation tho' in vain.
The public's scarlet fever is bad indeed, from Clairfait's
copious bleeding, and the spreading of the contagion every-
where !
Lady Douglas called here yesterday and desired me to bring you
to her on Saturday evening, which I hope you will let me do.
1794] LORD ORFORD TO MISS BERRY. 457
Adieu ! How glad I shall be to write you no more letters !
Humpity comes to me to-morrow : his second volume, which I
have had, tho' not quite complete, is still more entertaining than
the first.
Strawberry Hill, Oct. 15, 1794.
I can bear disappointments patiently, when it is for your health
or pleasure ; I consult both, and do not allow myself to reason
against y r reasons. If you call the weather settled, I will call it
so too. It is enough that you can amuse yourself where you are
your liking to stay longer contents me.
Mrs. Eichardson is gone to Audley-street with a note from
me to you. The state of public affairs is too bad and too volu-
minous to discuss. The True Briton of Oct. 13th is a day I
doubt we shall have cause to remember as a date !
I shall be glad to hear your opinions on Lee, and am pleased
that I contributed to y r seeing it, both for your sakes and Mr.
Barrett's, to whom I owe the greatest gratitude for his too great
partiality to me.
When you see the note in Mrs. Richardson's hands, you will
find by what accident it happened that you had no letter from
me on Saturday. I cannot say more now. Adieu !
Lord Orford's letter of October 17th* appears to be the
last of this year addressed to the Miss Berrys, their return
to Little Strawberry having superseded the necessity of
further correspondence.
Oct. 17, 1794.
I did not indeed know the arrangements of the future court,
nor had the least curiosity about what concerns me so little, and
of which there is mighty little probability of my seeing more
than the outset. Indeed, I did not suppose that it would affect
me in any manner, and yet I am very glad that Mrs. Fitzroy |
and Mrs. Stanhope J will be of it. They will be of credit to it,
as wel) as great ornaments.
[I had not the least doubt of Mr. Barrett's showing you the
* Published in part in 1846.
f Mrs. Fitzroy. Miss "Wa 
