THIS agreeable Historical Tale has hitherto been secluded from the eye of the general reader, in the retirement of five quarto volumes. The present editor has frequently contemplated an impression detached from the other works of the Noble Author; and as the public attention has recently been directed to his name by an additional volume of his Letters, it was thought that it could not pass the press at a better opportunity than the present. LONDON, APRIL, 1818. His (Horace Walpole's) Reminiscences of the reigns of George I. and II. make us better acquainted with the manners of these princes and their courts than we should be after perusing an hundred heavy historians; and futurity will long be indebted to the chance which threw into his vicinity, when age rendered him communicative, the accomplished ladies to whom these anecdotes were communicated. His certainty of success with posterity indeed will rest upon his Letters and his Reminiscences. Quarterly Review, Sept. 1818. HORACE WALPOLE's REMINISCENCES. CHAPTER I. You were both so entertained with the old stories I told you one evening lately, of what I recollected to have seen and heard from my childhood of the courts of king George the first, and of his son the prince of Wales, afterwards George the second; and of the latter's princess, since queen Caroline; and you expressed such wishes that I would commit those passages (for they are scarce worthy of the title even of anecdotes) to writing; that, having no greater pleasure than to please you both, nor any more important or laudable occupation, I will begin to satisfy the repetition of your curiosity.-But observe, I promise no more than to begin; for I not only cannot answer that I shall have patience to continue, but my memory is still so fresh, or rather so retentive of trifles which first made impression on it, that it is very possible my life, (turned of seventy-one) may be exhausted before my stock of remembrances; especially as I am sensible of the garrulity of old age, and of its eagerness of relating whatever it recollects, whether of moment or not. Thus, while I fancy I am complying with you, I may only be indulging myself, and consequently may wander into many digressions for which you will not care a straw, and which may intercept the completion of my design. Patience, therefore, young ladies; and if you coin an old gentleman into narratives, you must expect a good deal of alloy. I engage for no method, no regularity, no polish. My narrative will probably resemble siege-pieces, which are struck of any promiscuous metals; and, though they bear the impress of some sovereign's name, only serve to quiet the garrison for the moment, and afterwards are merely hoarded by collectors and virtuosos, who think their series not complete, unless they have even the coins of base metal of every reign. As I date from my nonage, I must have laid up no state-secrets. Most of the facts I am going to tell you, though new to you and to most of the present age, were known perhaps at the time to my nurse and my tutors. Thus my stories will have nothing to do with history. Luckily there have appeared within these three months two publications, that will serve as precedents for whatever I am going to say: I mean, Les fragmens of the correspondence of the duchess of Orleans, and those of the Mémoires of the duc de St. Simon. Nothing more décousu than both. They tell you what they please—or rather what their editors have pleased to let them tell. In one respect I shall be less satisfactory. They |