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                                                         Berkeley Square
                                                         December 22. 1787.


      I have had a long combat with myself, Madam, before I
could decide whether I should take the liberty of writing to you or
not on a most flattering Portrait which you found in the Spectator,
& sent to our poor Friend Mrs Vesey, thinking with a most
partial eye, that It resembled me -- how you will be surprised,
Madam, when I do write, & you find nothing but reproaches,
instead of gratitude! Grateful I am indeed for the partiality
that could blind such penetration & judgement as yours -- but
should not I be the vainest of Mankind, if I did not protest against
your Friendship adapting to me a finished picture of a most
amiable character drawn by the exquisite Pencil of Mr Addison?
Oh! Madam, I am covered with confusion -- & so, forgive me for
saying, would you be, should They who know me better, be apprised
of your Compliment. In rigorous Justice I ought to lay open all my
faults & defects to you -- but though I disclaim all pretensions to the
Portrait, am I obliged to destroy your good Opinion, which does
me so much honour? must I punish myself because you are too

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benevolent? May not the few remaining Days that are left to me
taste the sweetness of thinking that one excellent Woman has favourable thoughts
of me? Age & repeated Illness do not strew many flowers on the
end of our Path; & is not the reflection that We must leave those we love,
sufficient trial of our Philosophy? are we enjoined to labour that
they should not regret us? yes, Madam, I could contradict your Panegyric
paragraph by Paragraph; but though I again & again disavow it, Self Love,
I confess, does make me wish that some faint traces of it may remain
in the kind breast that conceived it; & that even when you discover the
misapplication, you may say, “well, at least I am sure he wished to
have deserved that I should think so favourably of him: I know he
thought my Esteem infinitely valuable, for except on him, when did
I bestow it unworthily? Was not my Choice of Mr Dickenson a proof
of my Discernment in merit?”
      I am flattered, Madam, with the hope of seeing you in Spring:
then perhaps I may be more frank on the catalogue of my faults and
Deficiencies -- somebody has said, that rather than not talk of ourselves,
we are content even to abuse ourselves -- but nobody has said that we like
to give the Satire under our hands. Still I have so many obligations to
you, Madam, for repeated expressions of favour towards me in your
letters to Miss Clarke, that as I doubt I shall not have all the time I wish
to pay those many Debts, you will probably escape an ugly confession, and

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at least you shall not find Ingratitude in the list of my Sins.
      Miss Anna Clarke to be sure has prepared you, Madam, for the deplorable
Situation in which you will find our poor dear Friend -- it is so dreadful,
that I daily wish to see it worse, for indeed She is scarce sensible of any
thing but her own misery -- oh! yes! momentary gleams of her most constitutional
Virtue, Benevolence, still break out -- the sight of those She loves still
enliven her for a moment -- but she cannot converse with them for two
minutes coherently, nor express the glimmerings of Ideas she retains. The
suffering & Patience of Mrs Hancock are not to be described -- were it not for
her comfort, I could almost wish that very Few were admitted to see her Friend!
Some indeed show they are worthy of performing so respectable a Duty!
      I fear, madam, I have trespassed too long -- I meant to complain of your prejudice --
-- but I doubt I have not been angry enough -- so hard it is for you to
disoblige -- & of all men living who is less disposed to censure you than
                                                         your most obedient
                                                         humble Servant
                                                              Horace Walpole
Berkley Square
Dec. 22d. 1787.

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