Last night I had a good deal of company to hear Monticelli and Amorevoli, particularly the three beauty-Fitzroys, Lady Euston, Lady Conway, and Lady Caroline.(398) Sir R. liked the singers extremely: he had not heard them before, I forgot to tell you all our beauties there was Miss Hervey,(399) my lord's daughter, a fine, black girl, but as masculine as her father should be;(400) and jenny Conway, handsomer Still,(401) though changed with illness, than even the Fitzroys. I made the music for my Lord Hervey, who is too ill to go to operas: yet, with a coffin-face, is as full of his little dirty politics as ever. He will not be well enough to go to the House till the majority is certain somewhere, but lives shut up with my Lord Chesterfield and Mr. Pultney-a triumvirate, who hate one another more than any body they could proscribe, had they the power. I dropped in at my Lord Hervey's, the other night, knowing my lady had company: it was soon after our defeats. My lord, who has always professed particularly to me, turned his back on me, and retired for an hour into a whisper with young Hammond,(402) at the end of the room. Not being at all amazed at one whose heart I knew so well, I stayed on, to see more of this behaviour; indeed, to rise myself to it. At last he came up to me, and begged this music. which I gave him, and would often again, to see how many times I shall be ill and well with him within this month. Yesterday came news that his brother, Captain William Hervey, has taken a Caracca ship, worth full two hundred thousand pounds. He was afterwards separated from it by a storm, for two or three days, and was afraid of losing it, having but five-and-twenty men to thirty-six Spaniards; but he has brought it home safe. I forgot to tell you, that upon losing the first question, Lord Hervey kept away for a week; on our carrying the next great one, he wrote to Sir Robert, how much he desired to see him, "not upon any business, but Lord Hervey longs to see Sir Robert Walpole."
Lady Sundon(402) is dead, and Lady M- disappointed: she, who is full as politic as my Lord Hervey, had made herself an absolute servant to Lady Sundon, but I don't hear that she has left her even her old clothes. Lord Sundon is in great grief: I am surprised, for she has had fits of madness ever since her ambition met such a check by the death of the Queen.(404) She had great power with her, though the Queen pretended to despise her; but had unluckily told her, or fallen into her power by some secret.(405) I was saying to Lady Pomfret, to be sure she is dead very rich!" She replied, with some warmth, She never took money." When I came home, I mentioned this to Sir R. "No," said he, "but she took jewels; Lord Pomfret's place of master of the horse to the Queen was bought of her for a pair of diamond earrings, of fourteen hundred pounds value." One day that she wore them at a visit at old Marlboro's, as soon as she was gone, the Duchess said to Lady Mary Wortley,(406) "How can that woman have the impudence to go about in that bribe?"-,, Madam," said Lady Mary, "how would you have people know where wine is to be sold, unless there is a sign hung out!" Sir R. told me, that in the enthusiasm of her vanity, Lady Sundon had proposed to him to unite with her, and govern the kingdom together: he bowed, begged her patronage, but said he thought nobody fit to govern the kingdom, but the King and Queen.-Another day.
Friday morning. I was forced to leave off last night, as I found it would be impossible to send away this letter finished in any time. It will be enormously long, but I have prepared you for it. When I consider the beginning of my letter, it looks as if I were entirely of your opinion about the agreeableness of them. I believe you will never commend them again, when you see how they increase upon your hands. I have seen letters of two or three sheets, written from merchants at Bengal and Canton to their wives: but then they contain the history of a twelvemonth: I grow voluminous from week to week. I can plead in excuse nothing but the true reason; you desired it; and I remember how I used to wish for such letters, when I was in Italy. My Lady Pomfret carries this humanity still farther, and because people were civil to her in Italy, she makes it a rule to visit all strangers in general. She has been to visit a Spanish Count (407) and his wife, though she cannot open her lips in their language. They fled from Spain, he and his brother having offended the Queen, (408) by their attachments to the Prince of Asturias; his brother ventured back to bring off this woman, who was engaged to him. Lord Harrington (409) has procured them a pension of six hundred a-year. They live chiefly with Lord Carteret and his daughter,(410) who speak Spanish. But to proceed from where I left off last night, like the Princess Dinarzade in the Arabian Nights, for you will want to know what happened one day. Sir Robert was at dinner with Lady Sundon, who hated the Bishop of London, as much as she loved the Church. "Well," said she to Sir R., "how does your pope do!"-"Madam," replied he, "he is my pope, and shall be my Pope; every body has some pope or other; don't you know that you are one! They call you Pope Joan." She flew into a passion, and desired he would not fix any names on her; that they were not so easily got rid of.
We had a little ball the other night at Mrs. Boothby's, and by dancing, did not perceive an earthquake, which frightened all the undancing part of the town.
We had a civility from his Royal Highness,(411) who sent for Monticelli the night he was engaged here, but, on hearing it, said he would send for him some other night. If I did not live so near St. James's, I would find out some politics in this-should not one?
Sir William Stanhope (412) has had a hint from the same
Highness, that his company is not quite agreeable: whenever he
met any body at Carlton House whom he did not know, he said,
"Your humble servant, Mr. or Mrs. Hamilton."
I have this morning sent aboard the St. Quintin a box for you, with your secretary-not in it.
Old Weston of Exeter is dead. Dr. Clarke, the Dean, Dr. Willes, the decipherer, and Dr. Gilbert of Llandaff, are candidates to succeed him.(413) Sir R. is for Willes, who, he says, knows so many secrets, that he might insist upon being archbishop.
My dear Mr. Chute! how concerned I am that he took all that trouble to no purpose. I will not write to him this post, for as you show him my letters, this here will sufficiently employ any one's patience-but I have done. I long to hear that the Dominichini is safe. Good night. Yours, ever.
(391) The name of Lord Chesterfield.