The Letters of Horace Walpole - Volume II | Page 6

ann. 1771).]
My bower is determined, but not at all what it is to be. Though I write
romances, I cannot tell how to build all that belongs to them. Madame

Danois, in the Fairy Tales, used to tapestry them with jonquils; but as
that furniture will not last above a fortnight in the year, I shall prefer
something more huckaback. I have decided that the outside shall be of
treillage, which, however, I shall not commence, till I have again seen
some of old Louis's old-fashioned Galanteries at Versailles.
Rosamond's bower, you, and I, and Tom Hearne know, was a labyrinth:
but as my territory will admit of a very short clew, I lay aside all
thoughts of a mazy habitation: though a bower is very different from an
arbour, and must have more chambers than one. In short, I both know,
and don't know what it should be. I am almost afraid I must go and read
Spenser, and wade through his allegories, and drawling stanzas, to get
at a picture. But, good night! you see how one gossips, when one is
alone, and at quiet on one's own dunghill!--Well! it may be trifling; yet
it is such trifling as Ambition never is happy enough to know!
Ambition orders palaces, but it is Content that chats for a page or two
over a bower.
ILLNESS OF THE KING--FRENCH AND ENGLISH ACTORS AND
ACTRESSES: CLAIRON, GARRICK, QUIN, MRS. CLIVE.
TO THE EARL OF HERTFORD.
ARLINGTON STREET, March 26, 1765.
Three weeks are a great while, my dear lord, for me to have been
without writing to you; but besides that I have passed many days at
Strawberry, to cure my cold (which it has done), there has nothing
happened worth sending across the sea. Politics have dozed, and
common events been fast asleep. Of Guerchy's affair, you probably
know more than I do; it is now forgotten. I told him I had absolute
proof of his innocence, for I was sure, that if he had offered money for
assassination, the men who swear against him would have taken it.
The King has been very seriously ill, and in great danger. I would not
alarm you, as there were hopes when he was at the worst. I doubt he is
not free yet from his complaint, as the humour fallen on his breast still
oppresses him. They talk of his having a levée next week, but he has
not appeared in public, and the bills are passed by commission; but he

rides out. The Royal Family have suffered like us mortals; the Duke of
Gloucester has had a fever, but I believe his chief complaint is of a
youthful kind. Prince Frederick is thought to be in a deep consumption;
and for the Duke of Cumberland, next post will probably certify you of
his death, as he is relapsed, and there are no hopes of him. He fell into
his lethargy again, and when they waked him, he said he did not know
whether he could call himself obliged to them.
I dined two days ago at Monsieur de Guerchy's, with the Count de
Caraman, who brought me your letter. He seems a very agreeable man,
and you may be sure, for your sake, and Madame de Mirepoix's, no
civilities in my power shall be wanting. I have not yet seen
Schouvaloff,[1] about whom one has more curiosity--it is an
opportunity of gratifying that passion which one can so seldom do in
personages of his historic nature, especially remote foreigners. I wish
M. de Caraman had brought the "Siege of Calais," which he tells me is
printed, though your account has a little abated my impatience. They
tell us the French comedians are to act at Calais this summer--is it
possible they can be so absurd, or think us so absurd as to go thither, if
we would not go further? I remember, at Rheims, they believed that
English ladies went to Calais to drink champagne--is this the suite of
that belief? I was mightily pleased with the Duc de Choiseul's answer
to the Clairon;[2] but when I hear of the French admiration of Garrick,
it takes off something of my wonder at the prodigious adoration of him
at home. I never could conceive the marvellous merit of repeating the
works of others in one's own language with propriety, however well
delivered. Shakespeare is not more admired for writing his plays, than
Garrick for acting them. I think him a very good and very various
player--but several have pleased me more, though I allow not in so
many parts. Quin[3] in Falstaff, was as excellent as Garrick[4] in Lear.
Old Johnson far more natural in everything he attempted. Mrs. Porter
and your Dumesnil surpassed him in passionate tragedy; Cibber and
O'Brien were