PERSONAL HABITS AND CHARACTER OF THE WALPOLES.
BY ELIOT WARBURTON.
We are not disposed to consider the elder Horace Walpole a great statesman, or claim for him the consideration accorded to his mere celebrated brother; but he was superior in talent to many of his contemporaries who attained a much higher eminence; and his honesty and zeal would have rendered creditable a much less amount of political accomplishments than he could boast of. Measured with the diplomatists of a more modern period, Lord Walpole will probably fall below par; but he had no genius for that fine subtlety which is now expected to pervade every important negotiation, and knew nothing of that scientific game of words, in which diplomatists of the new school are so eager to distinguish themselves.
In appearance he was more fitted to appear as a republican representative, than as an embassador from a powerful sovereign to the most polished court in Europe; his manners were so unpolished, his form so inelegant, and his address so unrefined. He rendered valuable support to the English monarchy, and won the confidence of the shrewd and calculating Queen Caroline, as well as the esteem of the sagacious and prudent States-general. A trustworthy authority has styled him "a great master of the commercial and political interests of this country," and accorded him the merits of unwearied zeal, industry, and capacity. With such advantages, he might well confess, without much regret, that he had never learned to dance, and could not pride himself on making a bow.
Though blunt and unpolished, he was extremely agreeable in conversation; abounding in pleasant anecdote, and entertaining reminiscences; fond of society, affable to every one, sumptuous in his hospitality, and not less estimable in his domestic than in his social relations. Though he wrote, and printed, and spoke lessons of political wisdom, that met with the fate of entire disregard, it is impossible not to admire the unselfish zeal that would almost immediately afterward induce him to write, print, and speak similar instructive lessons, to the same set of negligent scholars.
There is a statement which having found its way into such an authority as "Chandler's Debates," has been incorporated in works pretending to historical accuracy. On a debate arising out of the Bill for the Encouragement and increase of Seamen, in 1740, Pitt is represented as attacking Mr. Horace Walpole for having ventured on a reference to his youth. The fact is, that these debates were imaginary or constructed on a very slight foundation. Dr. Johnson, as is well known, before he had obtained his colossal reputation, drew up fictitious reports of what took place in the House of Commons.
Mr. Walpole having in a discussion been severely handled by Pitt, Lyttleton, and the Granvilles, all of whom were much his juniors, lamented that though he had been so long in business, young men should be found so much better informed in political matters than himself. He added that he had at least one consolation in remembering that his own son being twenty years of age, must be as much the superior of Pitt, Lyttleton, and the Granvilles, as they were wiser than himself. Pitt having his youth thus mercilessly flung in his face, got up in a rage, commencing—"With the greatest reverence to the gray hairs of the gentleman," but was stopped by Mr. Walpole pulling off his wig, and disclosing a grizzled poll beneath. This excited very general laughter, in which Pitt joined with such heartiness, as quite to forget his anger.
The younger Walpole always preserved a delicacy of figure, approaching effeminacy: his dress was simple: his manners studiously courteous: but his features, though agreeable, were not handsome; the most expressive portion being his eyes, which, when animated in conversation, flashed with intelligence. A close observer has stated, that "his laugh was forced and uncouth, and even his smile not the most pleasing." This may, perhaps, be attributed to the pain he habitually suffered, since the age of twenty-five, from the gout, which in the latter part of his life attacked his hands and feet with great severity. During the last half of his existence he was not only extremely abstemious, but his habits indicated a constitution that could brave alterations of temperature, from which much stronger men would shrink.
His hour of rising was usually nine, and then, preceded by his favorite little dog, which was sure to be as plump as idleness and good feeding could render it, he entered the breakfast-room. The dog took his place beside him on the sofa. From the silver tea-kettle, kept at an even temperature by the lamp beneath, he poured into a cup of the rarest Japan porcelain, the beverage "that cheers, but not inebriates." This was replenished two or three times, while he broke his fast on the finest bread, and the sweetest butter that could be obtained. He, at the same time, fed his four-footed favorite, and then, mixing a basin of bread and milk, he opened the window, and threw it out to the squirrels, who instantly sprang from bough to bough in the neighboring trees, and then bounded along the ground to their meal.
At dinner, which was usually about four o'clock, he ate moderately of the lightest food, quenching his thirst from a decanter of water that stood in an ice-pail under the table. Coffee was served almost immediately, to which he proceeded up stairs, as he dined in the small parlor or large dining-room, according to the number of his guests. He would take his seat on the sofa, and amuse the company with a current of lively gossip and scandal, relieved with observations on books and art, in illustration of objects brought from the library or any other portion of the house—for the whole might be regarded as a museum. His snuff-box, filled from a canister of tabac d'etrennes from Fribourg's, placed in a marble urn at one of the windows to keep it moist, was handed round, and he frequently enjoyed its pungent fragrance till his guests had departed—this was rarely till about two o'clock. If earlier, Walpole was sure to be found with pen in hand, continuing whatever work he might have in progress, or communicating to some of his numerous friends the news and gossip of the day.
The whole of the forenoon, till dinner-time, was often employed by him in attending upon visitors, rambling about the grounds, or taking excursions upon the river. He rarely wore a hat, his throat was generally exposed, and he was quite regardless of the dew, replying, to the earnest solicitude of his friends, "My back is the same with my face, and my neck is like my nose."
Sometimes of an evening he would go out to pay a visit to his neighbor, Kitty Clive, and then the hours passed by in a rivalry of anecdote and pleasantry; for Kitty, like himself had seen a great deal of the world, and was full of its recollections.