Patapan is the little aristocrat whom you see beside Mr. Walpole in the picture. The whims of “His Patapanic Majesty” were all indulged, his tastes consulted; his master idolized, and royalty itself caressed him; finally his vanity, already large, was puffed out like a balloon, by Mr. Chute’s poem in his praise. Thus it sums up his perfections:
“Patá is frolicsome, and smart
As Geoffrey once was—(oh! my heart),
He’s purer than a turtle’s kiss,
And gentler than a little miss;
A jewel for a lady’s ear,
And Mr. Walpole’s pretty dear.”
When the pretty dear was frisking through Strawberry Hill, he may very likely have brushed in his frolics against a great bowl of blue and white china occupying a place of honor in one of the rooms.
