Horace Walpole

Horace Walpole

Horatio Walpole, 4th Earl of Orford (24 September 1717 – 2 March 1797) was an English art historian, man of letters, antiquarian and Whig politician. He is now largely remembered for Strawberry Hill, the home he built in Twickenham, south-west London where he revived the Gothic style some decades before his Victorian successors, and for his Gothic novel, The Castle of Otranto. Along with the book, his literary reputation rests on his Letters, which are of significant social and political interest. He was the son of Sir Robert Walpole, and cousin of the 1st Viscount Nelson.

Read more about Horace Walpole:  Early Life: 1717–1739, Grand Tour: 1739–1741, Early Parliamentary Career: 1741–1754, Strawberry Hill, Later Parliamentary Career: 1754–1768, Later Life: 1768–1788, Last Years: 1788–1797, Writings, Formal Styles From Birth To Death

Famous quotes by horace walpole:

    When the Prince of Piedmont [later Charles Emmanuel IV, King of Sardinia] was seven years old, his preceptor instructing him in mythology told him all the vices were enclosed in Pandora’s box. ‘What! all!’ said the Prince. ‘Yes, all.’ ‘No,’ said the Prince; ‘curiosity must have been without.’
    Horace Walpole (1717–1797)

    When the Prince of Wales [later King George IV] and the Duke of York went to visit their brother Prince William [later William IV] at Plymouth, and all three being very loose in their manners, and coarse in their language, Prince William said to his ship’s crew, ‘now I hope you see that I am not the greatest blackguard of my family.’
    Horace Walpole (1717–1797)

    ‘In short, Isabella, since I cannot give you my son, I offer you myself.’ -- ‘Heavens!’ cried Isabella ... ‘what do I hear! You, my lord! You! my father in law! the father of Conrad! the husband of the virtuous and tender Hippolita!’ -- ‘I tell you,’ said Manfred imperiously, ‘Hippolita is no longer my wife; I divorce her from this hour.’
    Horace Walpole (1717–1797)

    Poetry is a beautiful way of spoiling prose, and the laborious art of exchanging plain sense for harmony.
    Horace Walpole (1717–1797)

    I have sometimes seen women, who would have been sensible enough, if they would have been content not to be called women of sense—but by aiming at what they had not, they only proved absurd—for sense cannot be counterfeited.
    Horace Walpole (1717–1797)