Letters from the Hon. Horace Walpole, to George Montagu, Esq. from the Year 1736 to the Year 1770; Now First Published from the Originals in the Possession of the Editor (Paperback)

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1818 edition. Excerpt: ...of its not being catholic enough. I had been in dread of being coupled with some boy of ten years old; but the heralds were not very accurate, and I walked with George Grenville, taller and older to keep me in countenance. When we came to the chapel of Henry the seventh, all solemnity and decorum ceased; no order was observed, people sat or stood where they could or would; the yeomen of the guard were crying out for help, oppressed by the immense weight of the coflin; the bishop read sadly, and blunclered in the prayers; the fine chapter, man that is born qfa woman, was chaunted, not read; and the anthem, besides being immeasurably tedious, would have served as Well for a nuptial. The real serious part was the figure of the duke of Cumberland, heightened by a thousand melancholy circumstances. He had a dark brown adonis, and a cloak of black cloth, with a train of five yards. Attending the funeral of a father could not be pleasant: his leg extremely bad, yet forced to stand upon it near two hours; his face bloated and distorted with his late paralytic stroke, which has affected too one of his eyes, and placed over the mouth of the vault, into which, in all probability, he must himself so soon descend; think how unpleasant a situation He bore it all with a firm and unaffected countenance. This grave scene was fully contrasted by the burlesque duke of N----------. He fell into a fit of crying the moment he came into the chapel, and flung himself back in a stall, the archbishop hovering over him with a smelling-bottle; but in-two minutes his curiosity got the better of his hypocrisy, and he ran about the chapel with his glass to spy who was or was-not there, spying with one hand, and mopping his eyes with the other. Then returned the fear...