I shall now go and show you Mr. Chute in a different light from heraldry, and in one in which I believe you never saw him. He will shine as usual; but, as a little more severely than his good-nature is accustomed to, I must tell you that he was provoked by the most impertinent usage. It is an epigram on Lady Caroline Petersham, whose present fame, by the way, is coupled with young Harry Vane. WHO IS THIS? Her face has beauty, we must all confess, Her mouth's a rabbit feeding on a rose; With eyes - ten times too good for such a nose! Her blooming cheeks — what paint could ever draw 'em? - That paint, for which no mortal ever saw 'em. Air without shape — of royal race divine 'Tis Emily-oh! fie!-'tis Caroline. Do but think of my beginning a third sheet! but as the Parliament is rising, and I shall probably not write you a tolerably long letter again these eight months, I will lay in a stock of merit with you to last me so long. Mr. Chute has set me too upon making epigrams; but as I have not his art, mine is almost a copy of verses: the story he told me, and is literally true, of an old Lady Bingley:1 Celia now had completed some thirty campaigns, Provide me a new one? how oft have I chid you?" "Lord, Madam!" cried Jane, "you're so hard to be pleased! I am sure every glassman in town I have teased: I have hunted each shop from Pall-mall to Cheapside : 2 Both Miss Carpenter's man and Miss Banks's3 I've tried." Lady Elizabeth Finch, eldest daughter of Heneage, Earl of Aylesford, and widow of Robert Benson, Lord Bingley. 2 Countess of Egremont. 3 Miss Margaret Banks, a celebrated beauty. prevent any breach, and thereby what you fear, which yet I think you would have no reason to fear. I could not say enough of my anger to your father, but I shall take care to say nothing, as I have not forgot how my zeal for you made me provoke him once before. Your genealogical affair is in great train, and will be quite finished in a week or two. Mr. Chute has laboured at it indefatigably: General Guise has been attesting the authenticity of it to-day before a justice of peace. You will find yourself mixed with every drop of blood in England that is worth bottling up: the Duchess of Norfolk and you grow on the same bough of the tree. I must tell you a very curious anecdote that Strawberry King-at-Arms1 has discovered by the way, as he was tumbling over the mighty dead in the Heralds' Office. You have heard me speak of the great injustice that the Protector Somerset did to the children of his first wife, in favour of those by his second; so much, that he not only had the dukedom settled on the younger brood, but, to deprive the eldest of the title of Lord Beauchamp, which he wore by inheritance, he caused himself to be anew created Viscount Beauchamp. Well, in Vincent's Baronage, a book of great authority, speaking of the Protector's wives, are these remarkable words: "Katherina, filia et una Coh. Gul: Fillol de Fillol's hall in Essex, uxor prima; repudiata, quia Pater ejus post nuptias eam cognovit." The Speaker has since referred me to our journals, where are some notes of a trial in the reign of James the First, between Edward, the second son of Katherine the dutiful, and the Earl of Hertford, son of Anne Stanhope, which in some measure confirms our MS.; for it says, the Earl of Hertford objected, that John, the eldest son of all, was begotten while the Duke was in France. This title, which now comes back at last to Sir Edward Seymour, is disputed: my Lord Chancellor has refused him the writ, but referred his case to the Attorney General, the present great Opinion of England, who, they say, is clear for Sir Edward's succession.3 1 Mr. Chute. 2 Sir Dudley Ryder. 3 Sir Edward Seymour, when he became Duke of Somerset, did not inherit the title of Beauchamp.-D. I shall now go and show you Mr. Chute in a different light from heraldry, and in one in which I believe you never saw him. He will shine as usual; but, as a little more severely than his good-nature is accustomed to, I must tell you that he was provoked by the most impertinent usage. It is an epigram on Lady Caroline Petersham, whose present fame, by the way, is coupled with young Harry Vane. WHO IS THIS? Her face has beauty, we must all confess, Her mouth's a rabbit feeding on a rose; With eyes ten times too good for such a nose! Her blooming cheeks - what paint could ever draw 'em? That paint, for which no mortal ever saw 'em. Air without shape of royal race divine "Tis Emily-oh! fie!-'tis Caroline. Do but think of my beginning a third sheet! but as the Parliament is rising, and I shall probably not write you a tolerably long letter again these eight months, I will lay in a stock of merit with you to last me so long. Mr. Chute has set me too upon making epigrams; but as I have not his art, mine is almost a copy of verses: the story he told me, and is literally true, of an old Lady Bingley:1 Celia now had completed some thirty campaigns, Provide me a new one? how oft have I chid you?" "Lord, Madam!" cried Jane, "you 're so hard to be pleased! I am sure every glassman in town I have teased: I have hunted each shop from Pall-mall to Cheapside : Both Miss Carpenter's' man and Miss Banks's' I've tried." 1 Lady Elizabeth Finch, eldest daughter of Heneage, Earl of Ayles ford, and widow of Robert Benson, Lord Bingley. 2 Countess of Egremont. 3 Miss Margaret Banks, a celebrated beauty. "Don't tell me of those girls! - all I know, to my cost, One used to have mirrors so smooth and so bright, After an epigram that seems to have found out the longitude, I shall tell you but one more, and that wondrous short. It is said to be made by a cow. You must not wonder; we tell as many strange stories as Baker and Livy: A warm winter, a dry spring, A hot summer, a new King. Though the sting is very epigrammatic, the whole of the distich has more of the truth than becomes prophecy; that is, it is false, for the spring is wet and cold. There is come from France a Madame Bocage, who has translated Milton: my Lord Chesterfield prefers the copy to the original; but that is not uncommon for him to do, who is the patron of bad authors and bad actors. She has written a play too, which was damned, and worthy my lord's approbation. You would be more diverted with a Mrs. Holman, whose passion is keeping an assembly, and inviting literally everybody to it. She goes to the drawing-room to watch for sneezes; whips out a curtsey, and then sends next morning to know how your cold does, and to desire your company next Thursday. Mr. Whithed has taken my Lord Pembroke's house at 'Charlotte, sister of Lord Howe, and wife of Mr. Fettiplace. 2 These lines are published in Walpole's Works.-D. 3 Madame du Boccage published a poem in imitation of Milton, and another founded on Gesner's Death of Abel. She also translated Pope's Temple of Fame; but her principal work was "La Columbiade."` It was at the house of this lady, at Paris, in 1775, that Johnson was annoyed at her footman's taking the sugar in his fingers and throwing it into his coffee. "I was going," says the Doctor, "to put it aside, but hearing it was made on purpose for me, I e'en tasted Tom's fingers." She died in 1802.-E. Whitehall; a glorious situation, but as madly built as my lord himself was. He has bought some delightful pictures too, of Claude, Gaspar and good masters, to the amount of four hundred pounds. Good night! I have nothing more to tell you, but that I have lately seen a Sir William Boothby, who saw you about a year ago, and adores you, as all the English you receive ought to do. He is much in my favour. TO GEORGE MONTAGU, ESQ. Arlington Street, May 15, 1750. THE High-bailiff, after commending himself and his own impartiality for an hour this morning, not unlike your cousin Pelham, has declared Lord Trentham. The mob declare they will pull his house down to show their impartiality. The Princess has luckily produced another boy; so Sir George Vandeput may be recompensed with being godfather. I stand to-morrow, not for a member, but for godfather to my sister's girl, with Mrs. Selwyn and old Dunch: were ever three such dowagers? when shall three such meet again? If the babe has not a most sentimentally yellow complexion after such sureties, I will burn my books, and never answer for another skin. You have heard, I suppose, that Nugent must answer a little more seriously for Lady Lymington's child. Why, she was as ugly as Mrs. Nugent, had had more children, and was not so young. The pleasure of wronging a woman, who had bought him so dear, could be the only temptation. Adieu! I have told you all I know, and as much is scandal, very possibly more than is true. I go to Strawberry on Saturday, and so shall not know even scandal. |