The Letters of Horace Walpole, Earl of Orford Volume IV Part 50

Adieu! my dear lord! If my reveries are foolish, remember, I give them for no better, If I depreciate human wisdom, I am sure I do not a.s.sume a grain to myself; nor have any thing to value myself upon more than being your lordship's most obliged humble servant.

Letter 278 To Mr. Dodsley.(526) Strawberry Hill, August 8, 1784. (page 350)

I must beg, Sir, that you will tell Mr. Pinkerton, that I am much obliged to him for the honour he is willing to do me, though I must deg his leave to decline it. His book(527) deserves an eminent patron: I am too inconsiderable to give any relief to it, and even in its own line am unworthy to be distinguished. One of my first pursuits was a collection of medals; but I early gave it over, as I could not afford many branches of virt'u, and have since changed or given away several of my best Greek and Roman medals. What remain, I shall be glad to show Mr. Pinkerton; and, if it would not be inconvenient to him to come hither any morning by eleven o'clock, after next Thursday, that he Will not only see my medals, but any other baubles here that can amuse him. I am, Sir, your most obedient humble servant.

(526) Now first collected.

(527) The first edition of Pinkerton's "Essay on Medals" was published by Dodsley, in two volumes octavo, in this year, without the name of the author.-E.

Letter 279 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.

Strawberry Hill, August 14, 1784. (page 350)

As Lady Cecilia Johnston offers to be postman, I cannot resist writing a line, though I have not a word to say. In good sooth, I know nothing hear Of nothing but robberies and housebreaking; consequently never think of ministers, India directors, and such honest men. Mrs. Clive has been broken open, and Mr. Raftor miscarried, and died of the fright. Lady Browne has lost all her liveries and her temper, and Lady Blandford has cried her eyes out on losing a lurch and almost her wig. In short, as I do not love exaggeration, I do not believe there have been above threescore highway robberies within this week, fifty-seven houses that have been broken open, and two hundred and thirty that are to be stripped on the first opportunity. We are in great hopes, however, that the King of Spain, now he has demolished Algiers, the metropolitan see of thieves, will come and bombard Richmond, Twickenham, Hampton-court, and all the suffragan cities that swarm with pirates and banditti, as he has a better knack at destroying vagabonds than at recovering his own.

Ireland is in a blessed way; and, as if the climate infected every body that sets foot there, the viceroy's aides-do-camp have blundered into a riot, that will set all the humours afloat. I wish you joy of the summer being come now it is gone, which is better than not coming at all. I hope Lady Cecilia will return with an account of your all being perfectly well. Adieu! Yours ever.

Letter 280 To John Pinkerton, Esq.(528) Strawberry Hill, August 24, 1784. (page 351)

I am much obliged to you, Sir, for the pieces you have sent me of your own composition.(529) There is great poetic beauty and merit in them, with great knowledge of the ancient masters and of the best of the modern. You have talents that will succeed in whatever you pursue, and industry to neglect nothing that will improve them. Despise petty critics, and confute them by making your works as perfect as you can.

I am sorry you sent me the old ma.n.u.script; because, as I told you, I have so little time left to enjoy any thing, that I should think myself a miser if I coveted for a moment what I must leave so soon. I shall be very glad, Sir, to see you here again, whenever it is convenient to you.

(528) This is the first of the series of letters addressed by Mr.

Walpole to Mr. Pinkerton. They are taken from his " Literary Correspondence," first printed in 1830, in two volumes octavo, by Dawson Turner, Esq. M.A. F.R.S. from the originals in his valuable collection. Mr. Pinkerton was born at Edinburgh, in February 1758, and died at Paris in May 1826. "He was," says Mr.

Dawson Turner, "a man of a capacious mind, great acuteness, strong memory, restless activity, and extraordinary perseverance: the anecdotes contained in this correspondence afford a striking proof of the power of talent,, and industry to raise their possessor in the scale of society, as well as in the opinion of the world: unfortunately, they are also calculated to read us another and not less instructive lesson, that somewhat more is required to turn such advantages to their full account; and that the endowments of the mind, unless accompanied by sound and consistent principles, can tend but little to the happiness of the individual, or to the good of society."-E.

(529) In 1781, Mr. Pinkerton had published an octavo volume ent.i.tled "Rimes;" a second edition of which, with additions, appeared in the following year.-E.

Letter 281 To The Earl Of Strafford.

Strawberry Hill, Sept. 7, 1784. (page 351)

The summer is come at last, my lord, drest as fine as a birthday, though with not so many flowers on its head. In truth, the sun is an old fool, who apes the modern people of fashion by arriving too late: the day is going to bed before he makes his appearance; and one has scarce time to admire his embroidery of green and gold. It was cruel to behold such expanse of corn every where, and yet see it all turned to a water-souchy. If I could admire Dante,--which, asking Mr. Hayley's pardon, I do not,--I would have written an olio of jews and Pagans, and sent Ceres to reproach Master Noah with breaking his promise of the world never being drowned again. But this last week has restored matters to their old channel; and I trust we shall have bread to eat next winter, or I think we must have lived on apples, of which to be sure there is enough to prevent a famine. This is all I know, my lord; and I hope no news to your lordship. I have exhausted the themes of air-balloons and highwaymen; and if you will have my letters, you must be content with my commonplace chat on the seasons. I do nothing worth repeating, nor hear that others do: and though I am content to rust myself, I should be glad to tell your lordship any thing that would amuse you. I dined two days ago at Mrs. Garrick's -with Sir William Hamilton, who is returning to the kingdom of cinders. Mrs. Walsingham(530) Was there with her son and daughter. He is a very pleasing young man; a fine figure; his face like hers, with something of his grandfather, Sir Charles Williams, without his vanity: very sensible, and uncommonly well-bred. The daughter is an imitatress of Mrs. Damer, and has modelled a bust of her brother.

Mrs. Damer herself is modelling two masks for the keystones of the new bridge at Henley. Sir William, who has seen them, says they are in her true antique style. I am in possession of her sleeping dogs in terra cotta. She asked me if I would consent to her executing them in marble for the Duke of Richmond? I said gladly; I should like they should exist in a more durable material; but I would not part with the original, Which is sharper and more alive. Mr. Wyat the architect saw them here lately; and said, he was sure that if the idea was given to the best statuary in Europe, he would not produce so perfect a group.

Indeed with those dogs and the riches I possess by Lady Di,(531) poor Strawberry may vie with much prouder collections.

Adieu, my good lord! when I fold up a letter I am ashamed of it; but it is your own fault. The last thing I should think of would be troubling your lordship with such insipid stuff, if you did not command it. Lady Strafford will bear me testimony how often I have protested against it.

(530) Charlotte, daughter of Sir Charles Hanbury Williams, Bart, married to the Hon. Robert Boyle Walsingham.-E.

(531) The number of original drawings by Lady Diana Beauclerc, at Strawberry Hill.

Letter 282 To John Pinkerton, Esq.(532) Strawberry Hill, Sept. 27, 1784. (page 353)

I have read your piece, Sir, very attentively; and, as I promised, will give you my opinion of it fairly. There is much wit in it, especially in the part of Nebuchadnezer and the dialogue is very easy, and the dinouement in favour of Barbara interesting. There are, however, I think, some objections to be made, which, having written so well, you may easily remove, as they are rather faults in the mechanism than in the writing.

Several scenes seem to me to finish too abruptly, and not to be enough connected. Juliana is not enough distinguished, as of an age capable of more elevated sentiments: her desire of playing at hot-c.o.c.kles and blind-man's-buff sounds more childish than vulgar. There is another defect, which is in the conduct of the plot: surely there is much too long an interval between the discovery of the marriage of Juliana and Philip, and the anger of her parents. The audience must expect immediate effect from it; and yet the noise it is to make arrives so late, that it would have been forgotten in the course of the intermediate scenes.

I doubt a little, whether it would not be dangerous to open the piece with a song that must be totally incomprehensible to at least almost all the audience. It is safer to engage their prejudices by something captivating. I have the same objection to Julia's mistaking deposit for posset, which may give an ill turn: besides, those mistakes have been too often produced on the stage: so has the character of Mrs. Winter, a romantic old maid; nor does she contribute to the plot or catastrophe. I am afraid that even Mrs. Vernon's aversion to' the country is far from novel; and Mr. Colman, more accustomed to the stage than I am, would certainly think so. Nebuchadnezer's repartees of "Very well, thank you!" and bringing in Philip, when bidden to go for a rascal, are printed in the Terrce Filius, and, I believe, in other jest-books; and therefore had better be omitted.

I flatter myself, Sir, you will excuse these remarks; as they are intended kindly, both for your reputation and interest, and to prevent them being made by the manager, or audience, or your friends the reviewers. I am ready to propose your piece to Mr.

Colman at any time; but, as I have sincerely an opinion of your parts and talents, it is the part of a friend to wish you to be very correct, especially in a first piece; for, such is the ill-nature of mankind, and their want of judgment too, that, if a new author does not succeed in a first attempt on the stage, a prejudice is contracted against him, and may be fatal to others of his productions, which might have prospered, had that bias not been taken. An established writer for the stage may venture almost any idleness; but a first essay is very different.

Shall I send you your piece, Sir; and how? As Mr. Colman's theatre will not open till next summer, you will have full time to make any alterations you please. I mean, if you should think any of my observations well founded, and which, perhaps, are very trifling. I have little opinion of my own sagacity as a critic, nor love to make objections; nor should have taken so much liberty with you, if you had not pressed it. I am sure in me it is a mark of regard, and which I never pay to an indifferent author: my admiration of your essay on medals was natural, uninvited, and certainly unaffected. My acquaintance with you since, Sir, has Confirmed my opinion of your good sense, and interested me In behalf of' your works; and, having lived SO long in the world myself, if My experience can be of any service to you, I cannot withhold it when you ask it; at the same time leaving you perfectly at liberty to reject it, if not adopted by your own judgment. The experience of old age Is very likely to be balanced by the weaknesses incident to that age. I have not, however, its positiveness yet; and willingly abandon my criticism to the vigour of your judgment.

(532) Now first collected.

Letter 283 To John Pinkerton, Esq.(533) Strawberry Hill, Oct. 6, 1784. (page 354)

You have accepted my remarks with great good-humour, Sir: I wish you may not have paid too much regard to them: and I should be glad that you did not rest any alterations on my single judgment, to which I have but little respect myself. I have not thought often on theatric performances, and of late not at all. A chief ground of my observations on your piece proceeded from having taken notice that an English audience is apt to be struck with some familiar sound, though there is nothing, ridiculous in the pa.s.sage; and fall into a foolish laugh, that often proves fatal to the author. Such was my objection to hot-c.o.c.kles. You have, indeed, convinced me that I did not enough attend to your piece, as a farce; and, you must excuse me, my regard for you and Your wit made me consider it rather as a short comedy. Very probably too, I have retained the pedantic impression,, of the French, and demanded more observance of their rules than is necessary or just: yet I myself have often condemned their too delicate rigour. Nay, I have wished that farce and speaking harlequins were more encouraged, in order to leave open a wider field of invention to writers for the stage. Of late I have amply had my wish: Mr. O'Keefe has brought our audiences to bear with every extravagance; and, were there not such irresistible humour in his utmost daring, it would be impossible to deny that he has pa.s.sed even beyond the limits of nonsense. But I confine this approbation to his Agreeable Surprise. In his other pieces there is much more untempered nonsense than humour. Even that favourite performance I wondered that Mr. Colman dared to produce.

Your remark, that a piece full of marked characters would be void of nature, is most just. This is so strongly my opinion, that I thought it a great fault in Miss Burney's Cecilia, though it has a thousand other beauties, that she has laboured far too much to make all her personages talk always in character; whereas, in the present refined or depraved state of human nature, most people endeavour to conceal their real character, not to display it. A professional man, as a pedantic fellow of a college or a seaman, has a characteristic dialect; but that is very different from continually letting out his ruling pa.s.sion. This brings me, Sir, to the alteration you offer in the personage of Mrs. Winter, whom you wittily propose -to turn into a mermaid. I approve the idea much: I like too the restoration of Mrs. Vernon to a plain reasonable woman. She will be a contrast to the bad characters, and but a gradation to produce Barbara, without making her too glaringly bright without any intermediate shade. In truth, as you certainly may write excellently if you please, I wish you to bestow your utmost abilities on whatever you give to the public.

I am wrong when I would have a farce as chaste and sober as a comedy; but I would have a farce made as good as it can be. I do not know how that is to be accomplished; but I believe you do.

You are so obliging as to offer to accept a song of mine, if I have one by me. Dear Sir, I have no more talent for writing a song than for writing an ode like Dryden's or Gray's. It is a talent per se; and given, like every other branch of genius, by nature alone. Poor Shenstone was labouring through his whole life to write a perfect song, and, in my opinion at least, never once succeeded; not better than Pope did in a St. Cecilian ode.

I doubt whether we have not gone a long, long way beyond the possibility of writing a good song. All the words in the language have been so often employed on simple images (without which such a song cannot be good), and such reams of bad verses have been produced in that kind, that I question whether true simplicity itself could please now. At least we are not likely to have any such thing. Our present choir of poetic virgins write in the other extreme. They colour their compositions so highly with choice and dainty phrases, that their own dresses are not more fantastic and romantic. Their nightingales make as many divisions as Italian singers. But this is wandering from the subject; and, while I only meant to tell you what I could not do myself, I am telling you what others do ill..I will yet hazard one other opinion, though relative to composition in general.

There are two periods favourable to poets: a rude age, when a genius may hazard any thing, and when nothing has been forestalled - the other is, when, after ages of barbarism and incorrection, a master or two produces models formed by purity and taste: Virgil, Horace, Boileau, Corneille, Racine, Pope., exploded the licentiousness that reigned before them. What happened? n.o.body dared to write in contradiction to the severity established; and very few had abilities to rival their masters.

insipidity ensues, novelty is dangerous, and bombast usurps the throne which had been debased by a race of fain'eants. This rhapsody will probably convince you, Sir, how much you was mistaken in setting any value on my judgment.

February will certainly be time enough for your piece to be finished. I again beg you, Sir, to pay no deference to my criticisms, against your own cool reflections. It is prudent to consult others before one ventures on publication; but every single person is as liable to be erroneous as an author. An elderly man, as he gains experience, acquires prejudices too: Day, old age has generally two faults; it is too quick-sighted into the faults of the time being, and too blind to the faults that reigned in his own youth, which, having partaken of or having admired, though injudiciously, he recollects with complacence. A key in writers for I confess, too, that there must be two distinct views of writers 4 the stage, one of which is more allowable to them than to other authors. The one is durable fame; the other, peculiar to dramatic authors, the view of writing to the present taste, (and, perhaps, as you say, to the level of the audience). I do not mean for the sake of profit; but even high comedy must risk a little of its immortality by consulting the ruling taste; and thence comedy always loses some of its beauties, the transient, and some of its intelligibility. Like its harsher sister satire, many of its allusions must vanish, as the objects it aims at correcting ceases to be in vogue; and, perhaps, that cessation, the natural death of fashion, is often ascribed by an author to his own reproofs. Ladies would have left off patching on the Whig or Tory side of their face, though Mr. Addison had not written his excellent Spectator.(534) Probably even they who might be corrected by his reprimand, adopted some new distinction as ridiculous; not discovering that his satire was levelled at their partial animosity, and not at the mode of placing their patches; for, unfortunately, as the world cannot be cured of being foolish, a preacher who eradicates one folly, does but make room for some other.

(533) Now first collected.

(534) The singularly clever and witty paper here alluded to was written by Addison himself; it is No. 81, "Female Party-spirit Discovered by Patches," and was published June 2, 1711-D. T.

Letter 284 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.

Strawberry Hill, Oct. 15, 1784. (page 356)

As I have heard nothing from you, I flatter myself Lady Ailesbury mends, or I think you would have brought her again to the physicians. you will, I conclude, next week, as towards the end of it the ten days they named will be expired. I must be in town myself about Thursday, on some little business of my own.

As I was writing this, my servants called me away to see a balloon. I suppose Blanchard's, that was to be let off from Chelsea this morning. I saw it from the common field before the window of my 'round tower. It appeared about the third of the size of the moon, or less, when setting, something above the tops of the trees on the level horizon. It was then descending; and, after rising and declining a little, it sunk slowly behind the trees, I should think about or beyond Sunbury, at five minutes after one. But you know I am a very inexact guesser at measures and distances, and may be mistaken in many miles; and you know how little I have attended to those airgonaut;. only t'other night I diverted myself with a sort of meditation on future airgonation, supposing that it Will not only be perfected, but will depose navigation. I did not finish it, because I am not skilled, like the gentleman that used to write political ship-news, in that style, which I wanted to perfect my essay -.

but in the prelude I observed how ignorant the ancients Were in supposing that Icarus melted the wax of his Wings by too near access to the sun, whereas he would have been frozen to death before he made the first post on that road. Next, I discovered an alliance between Bishop Wilkins's art Of flying, and his plan of an universal language the latter of which he no doubt calculated to prevent the want of an interpreter when he should arrive at the moon.

But I chiefly amused myself with ideas of the change that would be made in the world by the subst.i.tution of balloons to ships. I supposed our seaports to become deserted villages; and Salisbury-plain, Newmarhet-heath, (another canva.s.s for alteration of ideas,) and all downs (but the Downs) arising into dock-yards for aerial vessels. Such a field would be ample in furnishing new speculations. But to come to my ship-news:--

"The good balloon Dedalus, Captain Wing-ate, will fly in a few days for China; he will stop at the top of the Monument to take in pa.s.sengers.

"Arrived on Brand-sands, the Vulture, Captain Nabob; the Tortoise snow, from Lapland; the Pet-en-l'air, from Versailles; the Dreadnought, from Mount Etna, Sir W. Hamilton commander; the Tympany, Montgolfier; and the Mine-A-in-a-bandbox, from the Cape of Good Hope. Foundered in a hurricane, the Bird of Paradise, from Mount Ararat. The Bubble, Sheldon, took fire, and was burnt to her gallery; and the phoenix is to be cut down to a second-rate."