in no respect inferior to those of the French lady in sprightly wit, while in the variety of their subjects they are far superior, as giving the account of Turkish scenery and manners, and also of those of other countries which her husband visited on various diplomatic missions, while Mme. de Sevigne’s are for the greater part confined to the gossip of the coteries of Paris.  Her works occupy five volumes; but what we have is but a small part of what we might have had.  D’Israeli points out that “we have lost much valuable literature by the illiberal or malignant descendants of learned and ingenious persons.  Many of Lady Mary Wortley Montague’s letters have been destroyed, I am informed, by her daughters, who imagined that the family honours were lowered by the addition of those of literature.  Some of her best letters, recently published, were found buried in an old trunk.  It would have mortified her ladyship’s daughter to have heard that her mother was the Sevigne of Britain” ("Curiosities of Literature,” i. 54); and, as will be seen in a subsequent letter (No. 67), Walpole corroborates D’Israeli.  Lady Mary was at one time a friend and correspondent of Pope, who afterwards, for some unknown reason, quarrelled with her, and made her the subject of some of the most disgraceful libels that ever proceeded from even his pen.]

[Footnote 3:  She was mother of Lady Bute, wife of the Prime Minister.—­WALPOLE.]

The King of France has avowed a natural son,[1] and given him the estate which came from Marshal Belleisle, with the title of Comte de Gisors.  The mother I think is called Matignon or Maquignon.  Madame Pompadour was the Bathsheba that introduced this Abishag.  Adieu, my dear sir!

[Footnote 1:  This was a false report.—­WALPOLE.]

HIS OWN “ANECDOTES OF PAINTING”—­HIS PICTURE OF THE WEDDING OF HENRY VII.—­BURNET’S COMPARISON OF TIBERIUS AND CHARLES II.—­ADDISON’S “TRAVELS."

TO THE REV.  HENRY ZOUCH.

ARLINGTON STREET, March 20, 1762.

I am glad you are pleased, Sir, with my “Anecdotes of Painting;” but I doubt you praise me too much:  it was an easy task when I had the materials collected, and I would not have the labours of forty years, which was Vertue’s case, depreciated in compliment to the work of four months, which is almost my whole merit.  Style is become, in a manner, a mechanical affair, and if to much ancient lore our antiquaries would add a little modern reading, to polish their language and correct their prejudices, I do not see why books of antiquities should not be made as amusing as writings on any other subject.  If Tom Hearne had lived in the world, he might have writ an agreeable history of dancing; at least, I am sure that many modern volumes are read for no reason but for their being penned in the dialect of the age.

I am much beholden to you, dear Sir, for your remarks; they shall have their due place whenever the work proceeds to a second edition, for that the nature of it as a record will ensure to it.  A few of your notes demand a present answer:  the Bishop of Imola pronounced the nuptial benediction at the marriage of Henry VII., which made me suppose him the person represented.[1]