Part 5

Mr. Fox is employed in writing the history of some late period in the British annals, but whether King William’s reign or Charles II., I am not certain, but I rather believe the latter.[74] I sent him by his desire some books upon the subject, Ld. Grey’s narrative of the Rye House Plot, Baxter’s _Life_ of himself, and I have proposed to him various other miscellaneous tracts. A philosophical history from such a pen will be beyond praise, but I much fear his habitual indolence will interfere too much to allow a shadow of hope that he will finish a section even.

Ld. H. has a quality in common with him that is very serviceable in many ways--a great enduring patience in listening to the arguments of any fool, however great, and of always doing his best to answer them; of never allowing himself to feel, ‘Why exert myself for this fellow?’ Fox says he always likes to hear the opinion of a fool, as he gets by it two opinions, that of the person who gave him the opinion, and his own as he adopts it.

General Smith lost a great deal of money at Brookes’; to dissipate his chagrin he walked about the room, and at length joined in a conversation upon religion. ‘For my part,’ said he, ‘I cannot understand what they mean with their _Trinity_ and _Holy Ghost_.’ ‘I wonder at that,’ replied General Fitzpatrick, ‘as the symbol is a pigeon.’

[Sidenote: GENERAL FITZPATRICK]

The General is less remarkable for brilliant repartees than Hare, but all he says shows a profound knowledge of the world, life, manners, and character; his observations are mostly just and expressed in the best and purest language, adorned with an undescribable good taste. His conversation and writings remind me of Addison. Leave out the morality and piety, and the two characters are the same: mild, gentlemanlike, and each possessing chaste humour. The General is by far the better poet of the two. I am told that my taste is corrupted by that which prevails, but I think energy of expression is oftentimes wanting in both of the above styles.

North,[75] the Bishop of Winchester’s son, Ld. H.’s old friend, brought his wife to dine here some days ago. She is pretty rather, but looks sour-tempered.

Bread is 17 pence the quartern loaf, coals six guineas the chaldron, turkeys 16 shillings, capons 8s. 6d., meat dearer than usual. During this scarcity, be it natural or artificial, we adopt the regulations of the H. of Lords; each person in the family is limited to a quartern loaf per week, no pastry, no fine bread for breakfast.

_19th March, 1800._--A satirical poem called _The Campaign_ is just published; it abuses the Duke of York and the Dutch Expedition. It is imputed to Mr. Courtenay,[76] an old member of Opposition, a man of great coarseness, but some wit. In the House of Commons some supporter of Mr. Pitt’s Administration complimented him on having conducted the machine of Government with such success, in spite of the _drag chain_ of Opposition. Mr. Courtenay, in his reply, remarked upon the beauty and correctness of ye metaphor, since the machine was confessedly going downhill.

_22nd March._--Erskine and Mr. Lattin (and a foolish, handsome Irishman, Mr. Henry) dined, and were extremely entertaining yesterday. Erskine, I have always found hitherto far from agreeable, but yesterday was an exception. He talked strangely upon religion; he pretends to Christianity, but the Mother Church would not take him into her bosom. Bishops and churches, he declares, have destroyed true religion; had he the power of Christ he would drive the _doctors_ out of the _Temple_ as he did, and out of Lincoln’s Inn besides. The Church Establishment he maintains to be the total ruin of the simple, primitive worship. The Trinity he explains with ingenuity, and reprobates the Incomprehensible Mystery of three separate and individual persons.

The little Monk Lewis has behaved like a great fool, and made himself highly ridiculous. He sent to the Duke of Somerset and desired he would _wait upon him_ the next day at 1 o’clock. The Duke obeyed the summons, and _did wait_ upon him. ‘I understand, D. of Somerset, that you have exposed me to the contempt of being again blackballed by the New Club. I think the part you have acted by so doing unbecoming the character of a friend; thus I desire our acquaintance may drop here.’ He rung the bell, and bid the servant open the door for the D., and thus dismissed him. The D. of S. is remarkably good-natured, and most certainly did what he thought Lewis would like, but, poor little man, he is very irritable and quarrelsome, and will shortly be left not only friendless, but without many acquaintances.

[Sidenote: THE ROYAL INSTITUTION]

This Institution[77] of Rumford’s furnishes ridiculous stories. The other day they tried the effect of the gas, so poetically described by Beddoes; it exhilarates the spirits, distends the vessels, and, in short, gives life to the whole machine. The first subject was a corpulent, middle-aged gentleman, who, after inhaling a sufficient dose, was requested to describe to the company his sensations; ‘Why, I only feel stupid.’ This intelligence was received amidst a burst of applause, most probably not for the novelty of the information. Sir Coxe Hippisley was the next who submitted to the operation, but the _effect_ upon him was so _animating_ that the ladies tittered, held up their hands, and declared themselves satisfied. The experiment to remove the popular prejudice in favour of silver teapots failed, as the thermometer gave the lie to the Professor’s learned dissertations, but it must have been from the malice of his evil genius, for the fact is in his favour.

The Bishop of Killala’s[78] narrative of what passed in the town and neighbouring district whilst the French were in possession of it in ’98 under Humbert, is extremely interesting. It is written simply, with a great appearance of truth and feeling. His palace was the headquarters of the General and his officers. He speaks with highest admiration of their humanity, civility, and incredible discipline. There is even humour in his description of some of the scenes, particularly that in which he describes the mixture of mirth and contempt with which the French officer thrust indiscriminately upon the noddles of the Irish the gaudy helmets. He yields the palm of superiority to the English for their _dexterity_ in pillaging and in plunder; indeed compared with every European army, save the Papal one, it is the only _excellence_ in candour we can admit them to lay claim to.

Great embarkations are making at Plymouth of the Guards and other troops. Their destination is not known, but rumour says they go to the Mediterranean. Were I not satisfied how _harmless_ an English military force is against an enemy in battle array, I should wish contrary winds to waft them leagues out of their course, if they are destined for Egypt; but they inspire as little alarm to their enemies as they do confidence in their countrymen, for they are, as one of their commanders in Ireland said publicly of them, ‘Formidable only to their friends.’

* * * * *

[Sidenote: PICTURES BY VAN DYKE]

This house[79] has contained many remarkable and interesting persons; there are curious stories about its origin. Some say it was a nunnery, others, that it was built by a _Cope_ in the reign of Philip and Mary. It came by marriage into the possession of Rich, Earl of Holland.[80] He was a most accomplished and gallant cavalier, and so amiable that Charles I. conceived a jealousy against him, probably not totally without foundation. In consequence of this he was confined by order to his house, but his Royal mistress refused to cohabit with the King until her favourite chamberlain was at large. During his residence here Van Dyke passed a year with him, and probably painted some of those portraits which now decorate most of the best collections in England.[81] There is a very fine portrait of ye Earl of Holland, done by this celebrated artist, in the possession of Lord Breadalbane, at Taymouth.[82] It represents him in the prime and beauty of manhood, arrayed in the apparel of a bridegroom, such as he was when he represented his Royal Master at the Court of France to the lovely Henrietta Maria. His left leg is covered with white satin, it being the one put into bed to the bride when Royal marriages are made by proxy. He held employments of considerable trust, but was accounted wavering in his politics and irritable in his temper. He retired here just when the Civil war broke out, in disgust. Clarendon says, ‘He was visited by all the disaffected Members of Parliament, who held frequent meetings at Holland House.’ Some time after, when the Civil war was at its height, he offered to join the King’s party at Oxford, but being coldly received he returned to the Parliament forces. On 6th August, 1647, ‘The Members of Parliament who were driven from Westminster by tumult met General Fairfax at Holland House and subscribed to the declaration of the Army, etc.’[83] Some ascribe his desertion of the Royal cause to his hatred of Ld. Strafford. He gave a proof of his wish to restore it; in consequence of which he was taken prisoner, confined to his house, and dragged to execution the 9th of March, 1648–9. His body is buried in Kensington Church. In the July following, Lambert, then General of the army, fixed his headquarters here. It was restored to the family of Rich. When the Puritans shut up public theatres, the actors used to act at the houses of the nobility, and this house is mentioned as having frequently been the scene of much dramatic mirth and festivity.

[Sidenote: ADDISON]

Addison was tutor to the Earl of Warwick.[84] He married the Countess, his mother, a marriage which made no addition to his happiness; it neither found them nor made them equal. She always remembered her own rank, and thought herself entitled to treat with very little ceremony the tutor of her son. Rowe’s ballad of despairing love is said to have been written either before or after marriage upon this memorable pair, and it is certain Addison has left behind him no encouragement for ambitious love. There is a pretty little poem by Rowe upon the occasion of his first visit to Holland House to see the Countess of Warwick. It is said by some author, “Holland House is a large mansion, but could not contain Mr. Addison, the Countess of Warwick, and one guest, Peace.” During his residence here the house was frequented by the wits and poets of the time, Pope, Tickell, Steele. Upon his deathbed he sent for Gay, with whom he had had little previous intercourse. He told him he had injured him, but would recompense him if he recovered: ‘What the injury was, he did not explain.’ Lord Warwick was a disorderly young man, and had received without heed the advice of Addison, who used his utmost to reclaim his morals and mend his life; when he found himself dying he sent for him, ‘That he might see how a Christian can die.’[85] He expired under this roof in 1719.

Thou hill, whose brow the antique structures grace Rear’d by bold chiefs of Warwick’s noble race, Why, once so loved, whene’er thy bower appears, O’er my dim eyeballs glance the sudden tears! How sweet were once thy prospects fresh and fair, Thy sloping walks and unpolluted air! How sweet the glooms beneath thy aged trees, Thy noontide shadows, and thy evening breeze! His image thy forsaken bowers restore; Thy walks and airy prospects charm no more; No more the summer in thy glooms allay’d Thy evening breezes, and thy noonday shade.

_Tickell, on the death of Addison._

And again in his _Kensington Garden_:--

Where now the skies high Holland House invades And short-lived Warwick sadden’d all the shades.

Johnson repeats with great indignation Mandeville’s observation upon Addison. It was that he appeared to him like a parson in a tye wig: a laughable and, I daresay, a true remark.

In 1762, Henry Fox, Secretary of State (afterwards Lord Holland), inhabited, and shortly after purchased this house.[86] During his life it was frequently the resort of the great politicians. Sir Robert Walpole, unless he died before, was certainly a frequent visitor, at least he was a friend; Lds. Bute and Chatham, etc. Lady Sarah Lennox resided with her sister Ly. H.[87] at the period of the present King’s love, a love that might have elevated her to the throne, but for her levity and total disregard for appearances. Both Ld. and Ly. Holland died here. During his long illness he one day forbade admittance to all his friends who might call, with the exception only of George Selwyn, ‘For if I am alive I shall be very happy to see him, and if I am dead he will be very glad to see me,’ alluding to George Selwyn’s extraordinary passion for beholding death in any shape. He rarely missed the sight of an execution. He was supposed to have incensed George II. extremely by having indulged this curiosity about Queen Caroline, to obtain a sight of whose corpse he concealed himself under the bed, and during the absence at night of the attendants examined the body. George II. had such an aversion to him that he always called him ‘_That rascal George_.’ Selwyn once overheard him and exclaimed, ‘What can that mean? Rascal! Oh! I forgot that it was a hereditary title of the Georges.’ The King (George III.) the year after he had been at G. Selwyn’s house at Matson (famous in history for the escape of Charles I.) went mad. G. Selwyn upon this observed, ‘that it was odd enough that the only two Kings that had visited Matson had _both lost their heads_.’

[Sidenote: LORD ABERCORN’S MARRIAGE]

This singular marriage of Lady Ann’s is going on rapidly, nay, the nuptials are to take place in the course of this week; but till the holy knot is tied, I confess such mystery hangs upon the affair that I shall continue withholding my full belief. He consults Ly. B. about the equipages, fêtes that are to be given upon the occasion, etc., and yet insists upon her keeping her promise of secrecy, and even goes so far as to beg she will contradict the report if she hears it. He was always supposed to be a little cracked, and his pride is beyond belief. When travelling in Italy during the life of his uncle and he was only Mr. Hamilton, to distinguish himself he left upon his cards, ‘D’Hamilton, Comte Héréditaire d’Abercorn.’ His language is so _outré_ from the manners of common life that it would appear caricatured and _chargé’d_ even upon the stage. Should the union really take place, the first step will be a rupture between Ly. Ann, his daughters, and Miss Copley their aunt, as Ly. A. is both violent and peevish, and little disposed to submit to the _gêne_ of _bienséance_ with regard to them.

I hear from my dear Webby frequently. The others I know are well, but poor Harriet is placed in a cheap school, and will be educated among people and with ideas that certainly are not adapted to her way of life I hope and trust in future.

_17th April, 1800._--Abbé de Lille to-day shone. He aimed not at proving himself a political prophet: he contented himself with being a pleasant companion and a poet unique. In conversation he was very amusing; he told several stories about Voltaire, with whom he had been intimate in the early part of his life. The Collège de Montaigne was remarkable for its filthiness; the _régent_ of it, when the _écoliers_ were to act a play, was puzzled at their choice. It was _Mérope_. The female name offended him, and he altered it to _Méropus_: upon which Voltaire said it was in compliment of the place to call it _Mère au puce_, it being the _foyer_ of dirt. Necker’s conduct in France, he said, was exactly like that of a _Curé_, who at a jovial dinner heard the bell ringing to Vespers, upon which he immediately chanted the Psalm of _Deus in adjutorium meum intende_, etc.; the people made the response _Gloria Patri et Filio et Spiritui sancto_; a man next to the _Curé_ gave him a _soufflet_, saying if he had not begun the people would not have sung. The application to Necker was that he first sounded the alarm and roused the people of France. At the beginning of the Revolution, when things that now seem insignificant were looked upon as of great importance, two men were overheard talking of the calamities of the country in the Thuileries. One said, ‘Ah! bon Dieu, c’est la fin du monde.’ ‘Bah! bah!’ replied the other, ‘Comment donc, Monsr., il y a des exemples?’

He recited his translation of the fourth book of the _Aeneid_; the tender passages prove his ignorance of the sentiment he expresses. The famous tirade is admirably rendered.

[Sidenote: LORD ABERCORN’S MARRIAGE]

Lord Abercorn’s singular union has at length taken place contrary to every plausible speculation. A few days before it was declared he confided to a friend his intended marriage, without naming the lady. ‘The world will be surprised, do not contradict the report, nor deny it.’ As soon as the event was public the Queen sent Ly. Ely to Miss Copley[88] to desire her to come to Buckingham House. ‘I hear that in consequence of this business, that you intend quitting Ld. A.’s house; remember, Miss Copley, that the worse the affair is, the stronger is the necessity of continuing with your nieces, and remember you have my advice and sanction.’ This maternal, majestic speech had its effect. Sir Lionel Copley told me both of these anecdotes.

The day of the marriage Ly. A. was sitting with Ly. Bess. talking of the event that was fixed for 8 o’clock in the ensuing eve., when their conversation was interrupted by the entrance of the porter to inform them, ‘That Lord Abercorn had just called and left word that Ly. Ann must make haste, as she was to be married at 4.’ This intelligence _so_ communicated surprised them, but compliance and punctuality are indispensable qualities where Ld. A. is concerned, therefore they obeyed. As soon as the ceremony was over, which was performed at Lord Sudley’s,[89] Ld. A. made the Marchioness a low bow, handed his eldest daughter out to his carriage, and went and dined with his own family, whilst the Marchioness went and dined in Cavendish Square. He came with a cavalcade of servants and _flambeaux_ to bear off his prize to the Priory.

He is haughty and capricious, with enough of vanity to make him do a generous action, and with a dash of madness to make him do a lively one. Ly. Bess. went down for a few days; she described an evening between the new married pair, which was an exact reproduction of a scene in _The Taming of the Shrew_. To cure a headache he made her play blindman’s buff, and the more she complained the more violent he made the sport. A person remarked the livery, which is the same as the younger branches of the Royal Family, and said, ‘I suppose your family took it from them.’ ‘My family took it from them? No, it was the livery of the Hamiltons before the House of Brunswick had a servant to put it on.’ When he told the Dowager Lady Warwick that Sir Wm. Hamilton (her brother) was to marry Mrs. Hart, and that _he_ should give her away, she said it was a disgrace to the family, but if done by any of them the deed was fitted to the one who had the blot in his escutcheon and a crack in his skull.

The Duke of Somerset is to marry Ly. Charlotte Hamilton;[90] his mother withholds her consent. She is much older than the Duke. Her superior coquetry has obtained the palm, for his love began with her younger sister, Lady Susan.

A circumstance, half ridiculous, half distressing, embarrassed me last Saturday at Lansdown House. I met an old lover whom I had not set eyes on for 14 years; the last time I beheld him was when he solicited an interview to propose marriage. His mode of making the overture was singular at least. He began by approaching his chair close to mine, and followed this close-quartering with an endearing embrace round my waist; he then complimented me upon my love of literature, and said, ‘I love books as much as you do, and we may fairly hope to have a very literary little family.’ Tho’ barely fifteen years old, the ridicule of the man’s proceeding struck me so much that I could scarcely contain my laughter, and my mother did for me that which my own timidity prevented, for he immediately received his final _congé_. He used to write verses upon me, and sent me a copy, with a dog, the turn of which was that as I was afraid of thieves this cur would protect me until I ‘a bolder guardian took,’ meaning his precious self.

[Sidenote: A FORMER SUITOR]

_22nd April, 1800._--Ld. Thurlow yesterday in the House of Lords, with every expression of contempt, animadverting upon the folly of the Bills now brought before Parliament, the one for protecting bull baiting, the marriage of a divorced woman with the culprit, etc., addressed himself sarcastically to Lord Auckland, and said, ‘And pray, my Lord, why do you not bring in a Bill against ingratitude,’ alluding to Ld. A.’s desertion of Ld. North.[91] The reproof was coarse and uncalled for. The Union was debated last night in both Houses. Mr. Grey, in spite of secession, attended and made a very able speech.

The above story of Ld. Thurlow’s sarcasm is murdered. The sting lies in the absurdity of attempting to correct moral vices by law, which makes the sneer wittier.

Ly. Ann’s change from poverty and dependence to stately grandeur reminds me of the pretty _Epître des Vous et des Tu_, in which Voltaire sketches the delights of his youthful mistress, contrasted with the dull pomp she was surrounded by after a splendid alliance:--

Philis, qu’est devenu ce temps Où dans un fiacre promenée Sans laquais, sans ajustements, De tes grâces seules ornée, etc.

I invited Mr. Lattin to dine here to-day, and as an inducement mentioned that it was to meet Dr. Parr. He wrote a gallant reply, accompanied by the following verses, which he says are the first he ever wrote in French:--

L’Histoire nous apprend, que pour être écoutée La Sagesse eut recours Aux grâces, aux amours, Et même de la Fable, à la voix empruntée. Mais pour nous persuader, c’est la première fois Que la beauté s’adresse A la froide sagesse, Où Vénus de Minerve ait employé la voix.

_27th April._--On Wednesday, ye 23rd, Dr. Parr dined and slept here. He was pleasant enough and not too full of grammatical niceties. I overheard him and Knight condemn various corrupt pronunciations and agree in saying, ‘You and I can never pass them: we can never call Xenophon otherwise than Xeno_pho_.’

[Sidenote: THE CZAR PAUL]