Books: Letters of Horace Walpole, V4

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It was the present Bishop Dean who showed me the pictures and
Ann's tomb, and consulted me on the new altar-piece. I advised
him to have a light octangular canopy, like the cross at
Chichester, placed over the table or altar itself, which would
have given dignity to it, especially if elevated by a flight of
steps; and from the side arches of the octacon, I would have had
a semicircle of open arches that should have advanced quite to
the seats of the prebends, which would have discovered the
pictures; and through the octagon itself you would have perceived
the shrine of Edward the Confessor, which is much higher than the
level of the choir--but men who ask advice seldom follow it, if
you do not happen to light on the same ideas with themselves.

P. S. The Houghton pictures are not lost-but to Houghton and
England!(371)

(371) They had been sold to the Empress of Russia in the
preceding September, and immediately transferred to that
country.-E.

Letter 184 To Robert Jephson, Esq.(372)
Berkeley Square, January 25, 1780. (page 238)

It was but yesterday, Sir, that I received the favour of your
letter, and this morning I sent, according to your permission, to
Mr. Sheridan the elder, to desire the manuscript of your
tragedy;(373) for as I am but just recovering of a fit of the
gout, which I had severely for above two months, I was not able
to bear the fatigue of company at home; nor could I have had the
pleasure of attending to the piece so much as I wished to do, if
I had invited ladies to hear it, to whom I must have been doing
the honours.

I have read your play once, Sir, rapidly, though alone, and
therefore cannot be very particular on the details; but I can say
already, with great truth, that you have made a great deal more
than I thought possible out of the skeleton of a story.; and have
arranged it so artfully, that unless I am deceived by being too
familiar with it, it will be -very intelligible to the audience,
even if they have not read the original fable; and you have had
the address to make it coherent, without the marvellous, though
so much depended on that part. In short, you have put my
extravagant materials in an alembic, and drawn off only what was
rational.

Your diction is very beautiful, often poetic, and yet what I
admire, very simple and natural; and when necessary, rapid,
concise, and sublime.

If I did not distrust my own self-love, I should say that I think
it must be a very interesting piece: and yet I might say so
without vanity, so much of the disposition of the scenes is your
own. I do not yet know, Sir, what alterations you propose to
make; nor do I perceive where the second and fourth acts want
amendment. The first in your manuscript is imperfect. If I
wished for any correction, it would be to shorten the scene in
the fourth act between the Countess, Adelaide, and Austin, which
rather delays the impatience of the audience for the catastrophe,
and does not contribute to it, but by the mother's orders to the
daughter at the end of the scene to repair to the great church.
In the last scene I should wish to have Theordore fall into a
transport of rage and despair immediately on the death of
Adelaide, and be carried off by Austin's orders; for I doubt the
interval is too long for him to faint after Narbonne's speech.
The fainting, fit, I think, might be better applied to the
Countess; it does not seem requisite that she should die, but the
audience might be left in suspense about her.

My last observations will be very trifling indeed, Sir; but I
think you use nobleness, niceness, etc. too often, which I doubt
are not classic terminations for nobility, nicety, etc. though I
allow that nobility will not always express nobleness. My
children's timeless deaths can scarce be said for untimely; nor
should I choose to employ children's as a plural genitive case,
which I think the s at the end cannot imply. "Hearted
preference" is very bold for preference taken to heart. Raymond,
in the last scene says--

"Show me thy wound--oh, hell! 'tis through her heart!"

This line is quite unnecessary, and infers an obedience in
displaying her wound which would be shocking; besides, as there
is often a buffoon in an audience at a new tragedy, it might be
received dangerously. The word "Jehovah" will certainly not be
suffered on the stage.

In casting the parts I conclude Mrs. Yates, as women never cease
to like acting young parts, would prefer that of Adelaide, though
the Countess is more suitable to her age; and it is foolish to
see her representing the daughter of women fifteen or twenty
years younger. As my bad health seldom allows of my going to the
theatre, I never saw Mr. Henderson but once. His person and
style should recommend him to the parts of Raymond or Austin.
Smith, I suppose, would expect to be Theodore; but Lewis is
younger, handsomer, and, I think, a better actor; but you are in
the right, Sir, in having no favourable idea of our stage at
present.

I am sorry, Sir, that neither my talents nor health allow me to
offer to supply you with Prologue and Epilogue. Poetry never was
my natural turn; and what little propensity I had to it, is
totally extinguished by age and pain. It is honour enough to me
to have furnished the canons of your tragedy; I should disgrace
it by attempting to supply adventitious ornaments. The
clumsiness of the seams would betray my gouty fingers. I shall
take the liberty of reading your play once more before I return
it. It will be extraordinary indeed if it is not accepted, but I
cannot doubt but it will be, and very successful; though it will
be great pity but you should have some zealous friend to attend
to it, and who is able to bustle, and see justice done to it by
the managers. I lament that such a superannuated being as myself
is not only totally incapable Of that office, but that I am
utterly' unacquainted -with the managers, and now too retired to
form new Connexions. I was still more concerned, Sir, to hear of
your unhappy accident, though the bad consequences are past.

(372) now first published.

(373) Mr. Jephson's tragedy of The Count of Narbonne, founded on
Walpole's Gothic story of the Castle of Otranto. It will be
seen, that it was brought out, in the following year, With
considerable success, at Covent Garden theatre. "On Friday
evening" says Hannah More, in a letter to one of her sisters, "I
went to Mr. Tighe's to hear him read Jephson's tragedy.
'Praise,' says Dr. Johnson, 'is a tribute which every man is
expected to pay for the grant of perusing a manuscript;' and
indeed I could praise without hurting my Conscience, for The
Count of Narbonne has considerable merit; the language is very
Poetical, and parts of the fable very interesting; the plot
managed with art, and the characters well drawn. The love scenes
I think are the worst: they are prettily written, and full of
flowers, but are rather cold; they have more poetry than passion.
I do not mean to detract from Mr. Jephson's merit by this remark;
for it does not lessen a poet's fame to say he excels more in
Painting the terrible, than the tender passions."-Memoirs, vol.
i, P, 206.-E.

Letter 185 To Robert Jephson, Esq.(374)
Berkeley Square, Jan. 27, 1780. (page 240)

I have returned Your tragedy, Sir, to Mr. Sheridan, after having
read it again, and without wishing any more alterations than the
few I hinted before. There may be some few incorrectnesses, but
none of much consequence. I must -again applaud your art and
judgment, Sir, in having made so rational a play out of my wild
tale - and where you have changed the arrangement of the
incidents, you have applied them to great advantage The
Characters of the mother and daughter you have rendered more
natural by giving jealousy to the mother, and more passion to the
daughter. In short, you have both honoured and improved my
outlines: my vanity is content, and truth enjoins me to do
justice. Bishop Warburton, in his additional notes to Pope's
works, which I saw in print in his bookseller's hands, though
they have not yet been published, observed that the plan of The
Castle of Otranto was regularly a drama(375) (an intention I am
sure I do not pretend to have conceived; nor, indeed, can I
venture to affirm that I had any intention at all but to amuse
myself--no, not even a plan, till some pages were written). You,
Sir, have realized his idea, and yet I believe the Bishop would
be surprised to see how well you have succeeded. One cannot be
quite ashamed of one's follies, if genius condescends to adopt,
and put them to a sensible use. Miss Aikin flattered me even by
stooping to tread in my eccentric steps. Her " Fragment," though
but a specimen, showed her talent for imprinting terror. I
cannot compliment the author of the " Old English Baron,"
professedly written in imitation, but as a corrective of The
Castle of Otranto. It was totally void of imagination and
interest, had scarce 'any incidents, and, though it condemned the
marvellous, admitted a ghost. I suppose the author thought a
tame ghost might come within the laws of probability. You alone,
Sir, have kept within nature, and made superstition supply the
place of phenomenon, yet acting as the agent of divine justice--a
beautiful use of bigotry.

I was mistaken in thinking the end of the first act deficient.
The leaves stuck together, and, there intervening two or three
blank pages between the first and second acts, I examined no
farther, but concluded the former imperfect, which on the second
reading I found it was not.

I imagine, Sir, that the theatres of Dublin cannot have fewer
good Performers than those of London; may I ask why you prefer
ours? Your own directions and instructions would be of great
advantage to your play; especially if you suspect antitragic
prejudices in the managers. You, too, would be the best judge of
the rehearsal of what might be improvements. Managers will take
liberties, and often curtail necessary speeches, so as to produce
nonsense. Methinks it is unkind to send a child, of which you
have so much reason to be proud, to a Foundling Hospital.

(374) NOW first printed.

(375) Bishop Warburton's panegyric on the Castle of Otranto
appears in a note to the following lines in Pope's imitation of
one of Horace's epistles:--

"Then peers grew proud in horsemanship t'excel,
Newmarket's glory rose as Britain's fell'
The soldier breathed the gallantries of France,
And ev'ry flow'ry courtier Writ Romance."

"Amidst all this nonsense," says the Bishop, "when things were at
the worst, we have been lately entertained with what I will
venture to call, a masterpiece in the Fable; and of a new species
likewise. The piece I mean is, The Castle of Otranto. The scene
is laid in Gothic chivalry; where a beautiful imagination,
supported by strength of judgment, has enabled the author to go
beyond his Subject, and effect the full purpose of the ancient
tragedy; that is, to purge the passions by Pity and terror, in
colouring as great and harmonious as in any of the best dramatic
writers."-E.

Letter 186 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.
Berkeley Square, Feb. 5, 1780. (PAGE 242)

I have been turning over the new second volume of the Biographia,
and find the additions very poor and lean performances. The
lives entirely new are partial and flattering, being
contributions of the friends of those whose lives are recorded.
This publication made at a time when I have lived to see several
of my contemporaries deposited in this national temple of fame
has made me smile, and reflect that many preceding authors, who
have been installed there with much respect, may have been as
trifling personages as those we have l(nown and now behold
consecrated to memory. Three or four have struck me
particularly, as Dr. Birch,(376) who was a worthy, good-natured
soul, full of industry and activity, and running about like a
young setting-dog in quest of any thing, new or old, and with no
parts, taste, or judgment. Then there is Dr. Blackwell,(377) the
most impertinent literary coxcomb upon earth--but the editor has
been so just as to insert a very merited satire on his Court of
Augustus.

The third is Dr. Brown, that mountebank, who for a little time
made as much noise by his Estimate, as ever quack did by a
nostrum. I do not know if I ever told you how much I was struck
the only time I ever saw him. You know one object, and the
anathemas of his Estimate was the Italian Opera; yet did I find
him one evening, in Passion Week, accompanying some of the
Italian singers, at a concert at Lady Carlisle's. A clergyman,
no doubt, is not obliged to be on his knees the whole week before
Easter, and music and a concert are harmless amusements; but when
Cato or Calvin are out of character, reformation becomes
ridiculous--but poor Dr. Brown was mad,(378) and therefore might
be in earnest, whether he played the fool or the reformer.

You recollect, perhaps, the threat of Dr. Kippis to me, which is
to be executed on my father, for my calling the first edition of
the Biographia the Vindicatio Britannica--but observe how truth
emerges at last! In his new volume he confesses that the article
of Lord Arlington, which I had specified as one of the most
censurable, is the one most deserving that censure, and that the
character of Lord Arlington is palliated beyond all truth and
reason"-words stronger than mine--yet mine deserved to draw
vengeance on my father! so a Presbyterian divine inverts divine
judgment, and visits the sins of the children on the parents!

Cardinal Beaton's character, softened in the first edition,
gentle Dr. Kippis pronounces "extremely detestable"--yet was I to
blame for hinting such defects in that work!--and yet my words
are quoted to show that Lord Orrery's poetry was ridiculously
bad. In like manner Mr. Cumberland, who assumes the whole honour
of publishing his grandfather's Lucan, and does not deign to
mention its being published at Strawberry Hill, (though by the
way I believe it will be oftener purchased for having been
printed there, than for wearing Mr. Cumberland's name to the
dedication,) and yet he quotes me for having praised his ancestor
in one of my publications. These little instances of pride and
spleen divert me, and then make me reflect sadly on human
weaknesses. I am very apt myself to like what flatters my
opinions or passions, and to reject scornfully what thwarts them,
even in the same persons. The more one lives, the more one
discovers one's uglinesses in the features of others! Adieu! dear
Sir; I hope you do not suffer by this severe season.

P. S. I remember two other instances, where my impartiality, or
at least sincerity, have exposed me to double censure. You
perhaps condemned my severity on Charles the First; yet the late
Mr. Hollis wrote against me in the newspapers, for condemning the
republicans for their destruction of ancient monuments. Some
blamed me for undervaluing the Flemish and Dutch pictures in my
preface to the Aedes Walpolianae. Barry the painter, because I
laughed at his extravagances, says, in his rejection of that
school, "But I leave them to be admired by the Hon. Horace
Walpole, and such judges."
Would not one think I had been their champion!

(376) See vol. i. p. 434, letter 177.-E.

(377) Dr. Thomas Blackwell, principal of the Marischal College in
Aberdeen. Besides the above work, he wrote "An Enquiry into the
Life and Writings of Homer," and "Letters concerning Mythology."
He died in 1757.

(378) In September, 1766, he destroyed himself in a fit of
insanity. See vol. ii. p. 232, letter 119, note 234.-E.

Letter 187 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.
Berkeley Square, Feb. 27, 1780. (PAGE 243)

Unapt as you are to inquire after news, dear Sir, you wish to
have Admiral Rodney's victory confirmed.(379) I can now assure
you, that he has had a considerable advantage, and took at least
four Spanish men-of-war, and an admiral, who they say is since
dead of his wounds. We must be glad of these deplorable
successes--but I heartily wish we had no longer occasion to hope
for the destruction of any of our species but, alas! it looks as
if devastation would still open new fields of blood! The
prospect darkens even at home--but, however you and I may differ
in our political principles, it would be happy. if every body
would pursue others with as little rancour. How seldom does it
happen in political contests, that any side can count any thing
but its wounds! your habitudes seclude you from meddling in our
divisions; so do my age and my illnesses me. Sixty-two is not a
season for bustling among young partisans. Indeed, if the times
grow perfectly serious, I shall not wish to reach sixty-three.
Even a superannuated spectator is then a miserable being; for
though insensibility is one of the softenings of old age, neither
one's feelings nor enjoyments can be accompanied with
tranquillity. We veterans must hide ourselves in inglorious
security, and lament what we cannot prevent; nor shall be
listened to, till misfortunes have brought the actors to their
senses; and then it will be too late, or they will calm
themselves faster than they could preach--but I hope the
experience of the last century will have some operation and check
our animosities. Surely, too, we shall recollect the ruin a
civil war would bring on, when accompanied by such collaterals as
French and Spanish wars. Providence alone can steer us amidst
all these rocks. I shall watch the interposition of its aegis
with anxiety and humility. It saved us this last summer, and
nothing else I am sure did; but often the mutual follies of
enemies are the instruments Of Heaven. If it pleases not to
inspire wisdom, I shall be content if it extricates us by the
reciprocal blunders and oversights of all parties--of which, at
least, we ought never to despair. It is almost my systematic
belief, that as cunning and penetration are seldom exerted for
good ends, it is the absurdity of mankind that often acts as a
succedaneum, and carries on and maintains the equilibrium that
Heaven designed should subsist. Adieu, dear Sir! Shall we live
to lay down our heads in peace? Yours ever.

28th.--A second volume of Sir George Rodney's exploits arrived
to-day. I do not know the authentic circumstances, for I have
not been abroad yet, but they say he has taken four more Spanish
ships of the line and five frigates; of the former, one of ninety
guns. Spain was sick of the war before--how fortunate if she
would renounce it!

I have just got a new History of Leicester, in six small volumes.
It seems to be superficial; but the author is young, and talks
modestly which, if it Will not serve instead of merit, makes one
at least hope he will improve, and not grow insolent on age and
more knowledge. I have also received from Paris a copy of an
illumination from La Cit`e des Dames of Christina of Pisa, in the
French King's library. There is her own portrait with three
allegoric figures. I have learnt much more about her, and of
her amour with an English peer;(380) but I have not time to say
more at present.

(379) Admiral Sir George Rodney, who had been despatched to the
relief of Gibraltar, the garrison of which was much distressed
for provisions, after taking a convoy of Spanish ships bound to
the Caraccas, fell in, on the 16th of February off Cape St.
Vincent, with the Spanish fleet, commanded
by Don Juan Langara, which he defeated, and captured
four sail of the line.-E.

(380) John Montacute, Earl of Salisbury; who arriving in Paris,
as ambassador from Richard II. to demand in marriage the Princess
Isabel, daughter of Charles V., soon after the death of Castel,
the husband of Christine, was so struck with her beauty and
accomplishments as to offer her his hand. This Christine
respectfully declined; upon which the Earl bade adieu to love,
renounced marriage, and, with her consent, brought her eldest son
with him to England, to educate and protect.-E.

Letter 188 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.

Berkeley Square, March 6, 1780. (PAGE 245)

I have this moment received your portrait in glass, dear Sir, and
am impatient to thank you for it, and tell you how much I value
it. It is better executed than I own I expected, and yet I am
not quite satisfied with it. The drawing is a little incorrect,
the eyes too small in proportion, and the mouth exaggerated. In
short, it is a strong likeness of your features, but not of your
countenance, which is better, and more serene. However, I am
enough content to place it at Strawberry amongst all my
favourite, brittle, transitory relics, which will soon vanish
with their founder--and with his no great unwillingness for
himself.

I take it ill, that you should think I should suspect you of
asking indirectly for my Noble Authors-and much more if you would
not be so free as to ask for them directly-a most trifling
present surely--and from you who have made me a thousand! I know
I have some copies in my old house in Arlington-street, I hope of
both volumes, I am sure of the second. I will soon go thither
and look for them.

I have gone through the six volumes of Leicester. The author is
so modest and so humble, that I am quite sorry it is so very bad
a work; the arrangement detestable, the materials trifling, his
reflections humane but silly. He disposes all under reigns of
Roman emperors and English kings, whether they did any thing or
nothing at Leicester. I am sorry I have such predilection for
the histories of particular counties and towns: there certainly
does not exist a worse class of reading.

Dr. E. made me a visit last week. He is not at all less
vociferous for his disgrace. I wish I had any Guinea-fowls. I
can easily get you some eggs from Lady Ailesbury, and will ask
her for some, that you may have the pleasure of rearing your own
chicks--but how can you bear their noise? they are more
discordant and clamorous than peacocks. How shall I convey the
eggs?

I smiled at Dr. Kippis's bestowing the victory on Dean Milles,
and a sprig on Mr. Masters. I regard it as I should, if the
sexton of Broad Street St. Giles's were to make a lower bow to a
cheese-monger of his own parish than to me. They are all three
haberdashers of small wares, and welcome to each other's
civilities. When such men are summoned to a jury on one of their
own trade, it is natural they should be partial. They do not
reason, but recollect how much themselves have overcharged some
yards of buckram. Adieu!

P. S. Mr. Pennicott has shown me a most curious and delightful
picture. It is Rose, the royal gardener, presenting the first
pine-apple ever raised in England to Charles II. They are In a
garden, with a view of a good private house, such as there are
several at Sunbury and about london. It is by far the best
likeness of the King I ever saw; the countenance cheerful,
good-humoured, and very sensible. He is in brown, lined with
orange, and many black ribands, a large flapped hat, dark wig,
not tied up, nor yet bushy, a point cravat, no waistcoat, and a
tasselled handkerchief, hanging from a low pocket. The whole is
of the smaller landscape size, and extremely well coloured, with
perfect harmony. \It was a legacy from London, grandson of him
who was partner with Wise.

Letter 189 To The Rev. Mr. Cole.
Strawberry Hill, March 13, 1780.(PAGE 246)

You compliment me, my good friend, on a sagacity that is surely
very common. How frequently do we see portraits that have
catched the features and missed the countenance or character,
which is far more difficult to hit; nor is it unfrequent to hear
that remark made.

I have confessed to you that I am fond of local histories. It is
the general execution of them that I condemn, and that I call
"the worst kind of reading." I cannot comprehend but that they
might be performed with taste. I did mention this winter the new
edition of Atkyns's Gloucestershire, as having additional
descriptions of situations that I thought had merit. I have just
got another, a View of Northumberland, in two volumes, quarto,
with cuts;(381) but I do not devour it fast; for the author's
predilection is to Roman antiquities, which, such as are found in
this island, are very indifferent, and inspire me with little
curiosity. A barbarous country, so remote from the seat of
empire, and occupied by a few legions that very rarely decided
any great events, is not very interesting, though one's own
country; nor do I care a straw for a stone that preserves the
name of a standard-bearer of a cohort, or of a colonel's
daughter. Then I have no patience to read the tiresome disputes
of antiquaries to settle forgotten names of vanished towns, and
to prove that such a village was called something else in
Antoninus's Itinerary. I do not say the Gothic antiquities I
like are of more importance; but at least they exist. The site
of a Roman camp, of which nothing remains but a bank, gives me
not the smallest pleasure. One knows they had square camps-has
one a clearer idea from the spot, which is barely
distinguishable? How often does it happen, that the lumps of
earth are so imperfect, that it is never clear whether they are
Roman, Druidic, Danish, or Saxon fragments: the moment it is
uncertain, it is plain they furnish no specific idea of art or
history, and then I neither desire to see or read them. I have
been diverted, too, by another work, in which I am personally a
little concerned. Yesterday was published an octavo, pretending
to contain the correspondence of Hackman and Miss Ray, that he
murdered.(382) I doubt whether the letters are genuine; and yet,
if fictitious, they are executed well, and enter into his
character: hers appears less natural, and yet the editors were
certainly more likely to be in the possession of hers than his.
It is not probable that Lord Sandwich should have sent what he
found in her apartments to the press. No account is pretended to
be given of how they came to light.