Books: Letters of Horace Walpole, V4

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(271) See in Walpole's Works, vol. iv. the Papers relative to
Chatterton; see also vol- i. P. 61 of this collection.-E.

Letter 122 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Strawberry Hill, July 10, 1777. (page 168)

Don't be alarmed at this thousandth letter in a week. This is
more to Lady Hamilton(272) than to you. Pray tell her I have
seen Monsieur la Bataille d'.Agincourt.(273) He brought me her
letter yesterday: and I kept him to sup, sleep in the modern
phrase, and breakfast here this morning; and flatter myself he
was, and she will be, content with the regard I paid to her
letter.

The weather is a thought warmer to-day, and I am as busy as bees
are about their hay. My hayssians(274) have cost me as much as
if I had hired them of the Landgrave.(275)

I am glad your invasion(276) is blown over. I fear I must invite
those flat-bottomed vessels hither, as the Swissess Necker has
directed them to the port of Twickenham. Madame de Blot is too
fine, and Monsieur Schomberg one of the most disagreeable, cross,
contemptuous savages I ever saw. I have often supped with him at
the Duchess de Choiseul's, and could not bear him; and now I must
be charm`e, and p`en`etr`e, and combl`e, to see him: and I shall
act it very ill, as I always do when I don't do what I like.
Madame Necker's letter is as affected and pr`ecieuse, as if
Marmontel had written it for a Peruvian milk-maid. She says I am
a philosopher, and as like Madame de S`evign`e as two peas--who
was as unlike a philosopher as a gridiron. As I have none of
Madame de S`evign`e's natural easy wit, I am rejoiced that I am
no more like a philosopher neither, and still less like a
philosophe; which is a being compounded of D'Urfey and Diogenes,
a pastoral coxcomb, and a supercilious brute.

(272) The first wife of Sir William Hamilton, envoy extraordinary
at the court of Naples. She was a Miss Barlow-E.

(273) M. le Chevalier d'Agincourt, a French antiquary, long
settled in Italy. 1. B. L. Seroux d'Agincourt, born at Beauvais
in 1730, died at Rome in 1814, having, during thirty-six years,
laboured assiduously in the composition of his grand work,
"Histoire de l'Art par les Monumens depuis sa D`ecadence au
Quatri`eme Si`ecle jusqu'`a son Renouvellement au Seizi`eme". Of
this splendid book, in six vols. folio, which was not published
until 1823, nine years after the death of the author, an
interesting review will be found in the seventh volume of the
Foreign Quarterly Review.-E.

(274) Hessians.

(275) An allusion to the seventeen thousand which had been hired
for the American service, by treaties entered into the preceding
year with the Landgravine of Hesse Cassel, the Duke of Brunswick,
and the Hereditary Prince of Hesse Cassel.-E.

(276) A party of French nobility then in England, who were to
have made a visit at Parkplace.

Letter 123 To Robert Jephson, Esq.(277)
Strawberry Hill, July 13, 1777. (page 169)

You have perhaps, Sir, paid too much regard to the observations I
took the liberty to make, by your order, to a few passages in
"Vitellia," and I must hope they were in consequence of your own
judgment too. I do not doubt of its success on the stage, if
well acted but I confess I would answer for nothing with the
present set of actors, who are not capable in tragedy of doing
any justice to it. Mrs. Barry seems to me very unequal to the
principal part, to which Mrs. Yates alone is suited. Were I the
author, I should be very sorry to have my tragedy murdered,
perhaps miscarry. Your reputation is established; you will never
forfeit it yourself-and to give your works to unworthy performers
is like sacrificing a daughter to a husband of bad character. As
to my offering it to Mr. Colman, I could merely be the messenger.
I am scarce known to him, have no right to ask a favour of him,
and I hope you know me enough to think that I am too conscious of
my own insignificance and private situation to give myself an air
of protection, and more particularly to a work of yours, Sir.
What could I say, that would carry greater weight, than "This
piece is by the author of Braganza?"(278)

A tragedy can never suffer by delay: a comedy may, because the
allusions or the manners represented in it maybe temporary. I
urge this, not to dissuade your presenting Vitellia to the stage,
but to console you if both theatres should be engaged next
winter. My own interests, from my time of life, would make me
with reason more impatient than you to see it represented, but I
am jealous of the honour Of your poetry, and I should grieve to
see Vitellia, at Covent-garden not that, except Mrs. Yates, I
have any partiality to the tragic actors at Drury-lane, though
Smith did not miscarry in Braganza-but I speak from experience.
I attended "Caractacus" last winter, and was greatly interested,
both from my friendship for Mr. Mason and from the excellence of
the poetry. I was out of all patience; for though a young Lewis
played a subordinate part very well, and Mrs. Hartley looked her
part charmingly, the Druids were so massacred and Caractacus so
much worse, that I never saw a more barbarous exhibition.
Instead of hurrying "The Law of Lombardy,"(279) which, however, I
shall delight to see finished, I again wish you to try comedy.
To my great astonishment there were more parts performed
admirably in "The School for Scandal,"(280) than I almost ever
saw in any play. Mrs. Abington was equal to the first of her
profession, Yates, the husband, Parsons, Miss Pope, and Palmer,
all shone. It seemed a marvellous resurrection of the stage.
Indeed, the play had as much merit as the actors. I have seen no
comedy that comes near it since the "Provoked Husband."

I said I was Jealous of your fame as a poet, and I truly am. The
more rapid your genius is, labour will but the more improve it.
I am very frank, but I am sure that my attention to your
reputation will excuse it. Your facility in writing exquisite
poetry may be a disadvantage; as it may not leave you time to
study the other requisites of tragedy so much as is necessary.
Your writings deserve to last for ages; but to make any work
last, it must be finished in all parts to perfection. You have
the first requisite to that perfection, for you can sacrifice
charming lines, when they do not tend to improve the whole. I
admire this resignation so much, that I wish to turn it to your
advantage. Strike out your sketches as suddenly as you please,
but retouch and retouch them, that the best judges may for ever
admire them. The works that have stood the test of ages, and
been slowly approved at first, are not those that have dazzled
contemporaries and borne away their applause, but those whose
intrinsic and laboured merit have shone the brighter on
examination. I would not curb your genius, Sir, if I did not
trust it would recoil with greater force for having obstacles
presented to it.

You will forgive my not having sent you the "Thoughts on Comedy,"
(281) as I promised, I have had no time to look them over and put
them into shape. I have been and am involved in most unpleasant
affairs of family, that take up my whole thoughts and attention.
The melancholy situation of my nephew Lord Orford, engages me
particularly, and I am not young enough to excuse postponing
business and duties for amusement. In truth, I am really too old
not to have given up literary pleasures. Nobody will tell one
when one grows dull, but one's time of life ought to tell it one.
I long ago determined to keep the archbishop in Gil Blas in my
eye. when I should advance to his caducity; but as dotage steals
in at more doors than one, perhaps the sermon I have been
preaching to you is a symptom of it. You must judge of that,
Sir. If I fancy I have been wise, and have only been peevish,
throw my lecture into the fire. I am sure the liberties I have
taken with you deserve no indulgence, if you do not discern true
friendship at the bottom of them.

(277) Now first printed.
Robert Jephson, Esq. was born in Ireland in 1736. He attained
the rank of captain in the 73d regiment, and when it was reduced
at the peace of 1763, he retired on half-pay, and procured,
through the influence of Mr. Gerard Hamilton, a Pension on the
Irish establishment. Besides several tragedies, he wrote the
farce of "Two Strings to your Bow," and "Roman Portraits," a
poem. Hardy, in his Memoirs of Lord Charlemont, says, "he was
much caressed 'and sought after by several of the first societies
in Dublin, as he possess'd much wit and pleasantry, and, when not
overcome by the spleen, was extremely amusing and entertaining."
He was a member of the Irish House of Commons, and died in 1803.
Walpole's "Thoughts on Tragedy" had been addressed, in 1775, to
this gentleman.-E.

(278) "Braganza" came out at Drury-lane theatre in 1775, and was
very successful. Walpole supplied the epilogue.-E.

(279) "The Law of Lombardy" was brought out at Drury-lane in
1779, but was only acted nine nights.-E.

(280) Sheridan's "School for Scandal" was first performed at
Drury-lane on the 8th of May, 1777.

(281) Walpole's "Thoughts on Comedy" were written in 1775 and
1776, and will be found in his Works.-E.

Letter 124 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.
Strawberry Hill, August 31, 1777. (page 171)

You are very kind, dear Sir, in giving me an account of your
health and occupations, and inquiring after mine. I am very
sorry you are not as free from gout, as I have been ever since
February; but I trust it will only keep you from other
complaints, and never prevent your amusing yourself, which you
are one of those few happy beings that can always do; and your
temper is so good, and your mind so naturally philosophic,
composed, and contented, that you neither want the world, care
about it, nor are affected by any thing that occurs in it. This
is true wisdom, but wisdom which nothing can give but
constitution. Detached amusements have always made a great part
of my own delight, and have sown my life with some of its best
moments. My intention was, that they should be the employments
of my latter years, but fate seems to have chalked out a very
different scene for me! The misfortune of my nephew has involved
me in business, and consequently care, and opens a scene of
disputes, with which I shall not molest your tranquillity.

The dangerous situation in which his Royal Highness the Duke of
Gloucester has been, and out of which I doubt he is scarce yet
emerged, though better, has added more thorns to my uneasy mind.
The Duchess's daughters are at Hampton-court, and partly under my
care. In one word, my whole summer has been engrossed by duties,
which has confined me at home, without indulging myself in a
single pursuit to my taste.

In short, as I have told you before, I often wish myself a monk
at Cambridge. Writers on government condemn, very properly, a
recluse life, as contrary to Nature's interest, who loves
procreation; but as Nature seems not very desirous that we should
procreate to threescore years and ten, I think convents very
suitable retreats for those whom our Alma Mater does not
emphatically call to her Opus Magnum. And though, to be sure,
gray hairs are fittest to conduct state affairs, yet as the
Rehoboams of the world (Louis XVI. excepted) do not always trust
the rudder of government to ancient hands, old gentlemen,
methinks, are very ill placed [when not at the council-board] any
where but in a cloister. As I have no more vocation to the
ministry than to carrying on my family, I sigh after a dormitory;
and as in six weeks my clock will strike sixty, I wish I had
nothing more to do with the world. I am not tired of living,
but-what signifies sketching visions? One must take one's lot as
it comes; bitter and sweet"are poured into every cup. To-morrow
may be pleasanter than to-day. Nothing lasts of one colour. One
must embrace the cloister, or take the chances of the world as
they present themselves; and since uninterrupted happiness would
but embitter the certainty that even that must end, rubs and
crosses should be softened by the same consideration. I am not
so busied, but I shall be very glad of a sight of your
manuscript, and will return it carefully. I will thank you, too,
for the print of Mr. Jenyns, which I have not, nor have seen.'
Adieu! Yours most cordially.

Letter 125 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.
Strawberry Hill, Sept. 16, 1777. (page 172)

I have received your volume safely, dear Sir, and hasten to thank
you before I have read a page, that you may be in no pain about
its arrival. I will return it with the greatest care as soon as
I have finished it, and at the same time will send Mr. Essex the
bills, as I beg you will let him know. I have no less reason for
writing immediately, to thank you for the great confidence you
place in me. You talk of nonsense; alas! what are all our
opinions else? if we search for truth before we fix our
principles, what do we find but doubt? And which of us begins
the search a tabula rasa? Nay, where can we hunt but in volumes
of error or purposed delusion? Have not we, too, a bias in our
Minds--our passions? They will turn the scale in favour of the
doctrines most agreeable to them. Yet let us be a little vain:
you and I differ radically in our principles, and yet in forty
years they have never cast a gloom over our friendship. We could
give the world a reason that it would not like. We have both
been sincere, have both been consistent, and neither adopted our
principles nor have varied them for our interest.

Your labour, as far as I am acquainted with it, astonishes me: it
shows what can be achieved by a man that does not lose a moment;
and, which is still better, how happy the man is who can always
employ himself I do not believe that the proud prelate, who would
not make you a little happier, is half so much to be envied.
Thank you for the print of Soame Jenyns: it is a proof of Sir
Joshua's art, who could give a strong resemblance of so uncouth a
countenance without leaving it disagreeable.

The Duke of Gloucester is miraculously revived. For two whole
days I doubted whether he was not dead. I hope fatalists and
omenmongers will be confuted; and thus, as his grandfather broke
the charm of the second of the name being an unfortunate prince,
the Duke will baffle that, which has made the title of Gloucester
unpropitious. Adieu!

Letter 126 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Tuesday evening, Sept. 16, 1777. (page 173)

I have got a delightful plaything, if I had time for play. It is
a new sort of camera-obscura(282) for drawing the portraits of
persons, or prospects, or insides of rooms, and does not depend
on the sun or any thing. The misfortune is, that there is a vast
deal of machinery and putting together, and I am the worst person
living for managing it. You know I am impenetrably dull in every
thing that requires a grain of common sense. The inventor is to
come to me on Friday, and try if he can make me remember my right
hand from my left. I could as soon have invented my machine as
manage it; yet it has cost me ten guineas, and may cost me as
much more as I please for improving it. u will conclude it was
the dearness tempted me. I believe I must keep an astronomer,
like Mr. Beauclerk, to help me play with my rattle. The
inventor, who seems very modest and simple, but I conclude an
able flatterer, was in love with my house, and vowed nothing ever
suited his camera so well. To be sure, the painted windows and
the prospects, and the Gothic chimneys, etc. etc. were the
delights of one's eyes, when no bigger than a silver penny. You
would know how to manage it, as if you had never done any thing
else. Had not you better come and see it? You will learn how to
conduct it, with the pleasure of correcting my awkwardness and
unlearnability. Sir Joshua Reynolds and West have each got one;
and the Duke of Northumberland is so charmed with the invention,
that I dare say he can talk upon and explain it till I should
understand ten times less of the matter than I do. Remember,
neither Lady Ailesbury, nor you, nor Mrs. Damer, have seen my new
divine closet, nor the billiard-sticks with which the Countess of
Pembroke And Arcadia used to play with her brother Sir Philip;
nor the portrait of la belle Jennings in the state bedchamber. I
go to town this day s'ennight for a day or two; and as, to be
sure, Mount Edgecumbe has put you out of humour with Park-place,
you may deign to leave it for a moment. I never did see
Cotchel,(283) and am sorry. Is not the old wardrobe there still?
There was one from the time of Cain; but Adam's breeches and
Eve's under-petticoat were eaten by a goat in the ark.
Good-night!

(282) The machine called a Delineator.

(283) The old residence of the family of Edgecumbe, twelve miles
distant from Mount Edgecumbe.

Letter 127 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.
Strawberry Hill, Sept. 22, 1777. (page 173)

I return YOU Your manuscript, dear Sir, with a thousand thanks,
and shall be impatient to hear that you receive it safe. It has
amused me much, and I admire Mr. Baker(284) for having been able
to show so much sense on so dry a subject. I wish, as you say
you have materials for it, that you would write his life. He
deserved it much more than most of those he has recorded. His
book on the Deficiencies of Learning is most excellent, and far
too little known. I admire his moderation, too, which was
extraordinary in a man who had suffered so much for his
principles. Yet they warped even him, for he rejects Bishop
Burnet's character of Bishop Gunning in p. 200, and yet in the
very next page gives the same character of him. Burnet's words
are, "he had a great confusion of things in his head, but could
bring nothing into method:" pray compare this with p. 201. I see
nothing in which they differ, except that Mr. Burnet does not
talk so much of his comeliness as Mr. Baker.

I Shall not commend your moderation, when you excuse such a man
as Bishop Watson. Nor ought you to be angry with Burnet, but
with the witnesses on whose evidence Watson was convicted. To
tell you the truth, I am glad when such faults are found with
Burnet; for it shows his enemies are not angry at his telling
falsehoods, but the truth. Must not an historian say a bishop
was convicted Of Simony, if he was? I will tell you what was
said of Burnet's History, by one whose testimony you yourself
would not dispute--at least you would not in any thing else.
That confessor said, "Damn him, he has told a great deal of
truth, but where the devil did he learn it?" This was St.
Atterbury's testimony.

I shall take the liberty of reproving you, too, dear Sir, for
defending that abominable murderess Queen Christina--and how can
you doubt her conversation with Burnet? you must know there are
a thousand evidences of her laughing at the religion she
embraced. If you approve her, I will allow YOU to Condemn Lord
Russel and Algernon Sidney. Well, as we shall never have the
same heroes, we Will not dispute about them, nor shall I find
fault when you have given me so much entertainment: it would be
very Ungrateful, and I have a thousand obligations to you, and
want to have more. I want to see more of your manuscripts: they
are full of curiosities, and I love some of your heroes, too: I
honour Bishop Fisher, and love Mr. Baker. If I might choose, I
should like to see your account of the persons educated at
King's-but as you may have objections, I insist, if you have,
that you make me no word of answer. It is, perhaps, impertinent
to ask it, and silence will lay neither of us under any
difficulty. I have no right to make such a request, nor do now,
but on the foot of its proving totally indifferent to you. You
will make me blame
myself, if it should a moment distress you; and I am sure you are
too good-natured to put me out of humour with myself, which your
making no answer would not do.

I enclose my bills for Mr. Essex, and will trouble you to send
them to him. I again thank you, and trust you will be as
friendly free with me, as I have been with you: you know I am a
brother monk in every thing but religious and political opinions.
I only laugh at the thirty' nine articles: but abhor Calvin as
much as I do the Queen of Sweden, for he was as thorough an
assassin. Yours ever.

P. S. As I have a great mind, and, indeed, ought, when I require
it, to show moderation, and when I have not, ought to confess it,
which I do, for I Own I am not moderate on certain points; if you
are busy yourself and will send me the materials, I will draw up
the life 4 Mr. Baker; and, if you are not content with it, you
shall burn it in Smithfield. In good truth, I revere
conscientious martyrs, of all sects, communions, and parties--I
heartily pity them, if they are weak men. When they are as
sensible as Mr. Baker, I doubt my own understanding more than
his. I know I have not his virtues, but should delight in doing
justice to them; and, perhaps, from a man of a different party
the testimony would be more to his honour. I do not call myself
of different principles; because a man that thinks himself bound
by his oath, can be a man of no principle if he violates it. I
do not mean to deny that many men might think King James's breach
of his oath a dispensation from theirs; but, if they did not
think so, or did not think their duty to their country obliged
them to renounce their King, I should never defend those who took
the new oaths from interest.

(284) Thomas Baker, the learned author of "Reflections on
Learning, wherein is shown the insufficiency thereof in its
several particulars, in order to evince the usefulness and
necessity Of Revelation;" a work which has gone through numerous
editions, and /was at one time one of the most popular books in
the language, He was born at Durham in 1656, and died in the
office of commoner master of st. John's College, Cambridge, in
July 1740.-E.

Letter 128 To Robert Jephson, Esq.(285)
Strawberry Hill, Oct. 1, 1777. (page 175)

To confer favours, Sir, is certainly not giving trouble: and had
I the most constant occupation, I should contrive to find moments
for reading your works. I have passed a most melancholy summer,
from different distresses in my family; and though my nephew's
situation and other avocations prevent my having but very little
time for literary amusements, I did not mean to debar myself of
the pleasure of hearing from my friends. Unfortunately, at
present, it is impossible for me to profit of your kindness; not
from my own business, but from the absence of Mr. Garrick. He is
gone into Staffirdshire to marry a nephew, and thence will pass
into Wales to superintend a play that is to be acted at Sir
Watkin Williams's. I am even afraid I shall not be the first
apprised of his return, as I possibly may remove to town in
expectation of the Duchess of Gloucester,' before he is at home
again. I shall not neglect my own satisfaction; but mention this
circumstance, that you may not suspect me of inattention, if I
should not get sight of your tragedy so soon as I wish. I am,
Sir, with great regard.

(285) Now first printed.

Letter 129 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.
Oct. 5, 1777. (page 176)

You are so exceedingly good, I shall assuredly accept your
proposal in the fullest sense, and to ensure Mrs. Damer, beg I
may expect you on Saturday next the 11th. If Lord and Lady
william Campbell will do me the honour of accompanying YOU, I
shall be most happy to see them, and expect Miss Caroline.(286)
Let me know about them that the state bedchamber may be aired.

My difficulties about removing from home arise from the
consciousness of my own weakness. I make it a rule, as much as I
can, to conform wherever I go. Though I am threescore to-day, I
should not think that an age for giving every thing up; but it
is, for whatever one has not strength to perform. You, though
not a vast deal younger, are as healthy and strong, thank God! as
ever you was: and you cannot have ideas of the mortification of
being stared at by strangers and servants, when one hobbles, or
cannot do as others do. I delight in being with you, and the
Richmonds, and those I love and know; but the crowds of young
people, and Chichester folks, and officers, and strange servants,
make me afraid of Goodwood, I own My spirits are never low; but
they seldom will last out the whole day; and though I dare to say
I appear to many capricious, and different from the rest of the
world, there is more reason in my behaviour than there seems.
You know in London I seldom stir out in a morning, and always
late; it is because I want a great deal of rest. Exercise never
did agree with me: and it is hard if I do not know myself by this
time; and what has done so well for me will probably suit me best
for the rest of my life. It would be ridiculous to talk so much
of myself, and to enter into such trifling details, but you are
the person in the world that I wish to convince that I do not act
merely from humour or ill-humour; though I confess at the same
time that I want your bonhommie, and have a disposition not to
care at all for people that I do not absolutely like. I could
say a great deal more on this head, but it is not proper; though,
when one has pretty much done with the world, I think with Lady
Blandford, that One may indulge one's self in one's own whims and
partialities in one's own house. I do not mean, still less to
profess, retirement, because it is less ridiculous to go on with
the world to the last, than to return to it; but in a quiet way
it has long been my purpose to drop a great deal of it. Of all
things I am farthest from not intending to come often to
Park-place, whenever you have little company; and I had rather be
with you, in November than July, because I am so totally unable
to walk farther than a snail. I will never say any more on these
subjects, because there may be as much affectation in being over
old, as folly in being over young. My idea of age is, that one
has nothing really to do but what one ought, and what is
reasonable. All affectations are pretensions; and pretending to
be any thing one is not, cannot deceive when one is known, as
every body must be That has lived long. I do not mean that old
folks may not have pleasures if they can; but then I think those
pleasures are confined to being comfortable, and to enjoying the
few friends one has not outlived. I am so fair as to own, that
one's duties are not pleasures. I have given up a great deal of
my time to nephews and nieces, even to some I can have little
affection for. I do love my nieces, nay like them; but people
above forty years younger are certainly not the society I should
seek. They can only think and talk of what is, or is to come; I
certainly am more disposed to think and talk of what is past: and
the obligation of passing the end of a long life in sets of
totally new company is more irksome to me than passing a great
deal of my time, as I do, quite alone. Family love and pride
make me interest myself about the young people of my own
family-for the whole rest of the Young world, they are as
indifferent to me as puppets or black children. This is my
creed, and a key to my whole conduct, and the more likely to
remain my creed, as I think it is raisonn`e. If I could paint my
Opinions instead of writing them I don't know whether it would
not make a new sort of alphabet-I should use different colours
for different affections at different ages. When I speak of
love, affection, friendship, taste, liking, I should draw them
rose colour, carmine, blue, green, yellow, for my contemporaries:
for new comers, the first would be of no colour; the others,
purple, brown, crimson, and changeable. Remember, one tells
one's creed only to one's confessor, that is sub sigillo. I
write to you as I think; to others as I must. Adieu!