Book 4 — CHAPTER VIII (continued 2)
Reading edition
I am, &c.
T. H.
To the same.
Sir, I am very much concerned at not knowing where or which way to remit the copy of the comedy to you, being ignorant of where you are, or where this may find you. I went on Tuesday with it into Somerset Street, but found the house entirely shut up. The trouble you have taken in reading and advising, demands every attention from me. It is to be played on Saturday the 13th. If you come to town, or can instruct me how to send the comedy to you, I shall be happy. I assure you, Sir, you can scarcely conjecture the trouble and chagrin attending things of this nature: there have been three epilogues written before there was one to please the speaker; and at this instant, I am not certain of finding any person to speak the prologue. Mr Henderson said he could not please himself in it, and therefore declined it; and Mr Lee Lewis, to whom it was afterwards given, who fancies himself a wit and a critic, does not find opportunities enough of regaling his acquaintance in the upper gallery; whether he will or will not speak it, is yet to be determined. There have been various alterations made in the play, and a very considerable one relative to the loss of Melissa’s fortune, though your objection is not entirely obviated. I have written a speech for Sir Harry, on the effects of gaming, as consonant to the ideas you hinted as I could; and I believe it will have a 265charming effect. Your turn too for the denouement is exceedingly happy. I can only add, Sir, that I think myself exceedingly obliged to you for these favours, and shall take the earliest opportunity when you are in town, with your permission, of thanking you in person.
I am, Sir, &c.
To the same.
Sir, I am exceedingly happy that you do not suspect me of ingratitude: indeed, Sir, I should detest myself had I, by my own neglect, treated you with the least disrespect. It would have been a symptom not only of an inflated, silly mind, but of a bad heart also. I repeat this, Sir, because I assure you I was very uneasy till the receipt of your obliging letter removed my doubts. I cannot help again observing to you, Sir, that the approbation of people of known worth and undoubted abilities is very flattering; and I hope there will be nothing wrong or indelicate in saying that I feel myself peculiarly happy and elevated at having gained the esteem of Mr and Mrs. Greville; and I am certain I shall neglect no opportunity of endeavouring to improve a friendship so honourable to me, and, at one period of my life, so seemingly incompatible. I know, Sir, the most effectual mode of accomplishing this will be to do my duty in society, and assiduously to cultivate such talents as accident or nature has bestowed upon me; and this, Sir, is my most serious intention. Respecting the play, I, Sir, was never satisfied with making Sir Harry lose his sister’s fortune; besides that I find it is an incident in the tragedy of the Gamester, where, as the hero does not survive the dishonour, it is very proper and happy. However, as few are sufficiently refined to feel properly on this occasion, it has a good stage effect. You can hardly conceive how great the effect of the denouement was on the first night, the whole house seemed taken by surprise; and Osborne’s generous account of the reason of his conduct greatly heightened, or rather gave a complete finish to their pleasure. There is another speech, which was written in consequence of some hints I received from conversing with you, which I think one of the best conceived in the whole play. It is Sir Harry’s soliloquy in the fourth act, after Melissa has put her fortune in his hands. I very much approve what you are pleased to term the niceties of verbal criticism. An exact and well regulated machine depends as much, if not more, upon small things, as great; but still there must be vast labour and precision indeed, if no particle of dust insinuates itself among the cogs and wheels; however, when such is discovered, it would be folly not to brush it away. The epilogue I wrote, and it has a good effect in speaking. The 266curtailings have some of them been suggested at rehearsals by the performers, and some were my own, but the greatest part were Mr Harris’s. I dislike Sir Harry’s squeezing Clara’s hand, as much as you can do, I assure you, Sir, it was the insertion of the actors: and I chose rather to submit to that, and many other things I disapproved, than to appear obstinate or opinionated. Mrs. Holcroft desires me to assure you, Sir, she is exceedingly obliged by the kind mention you have made of her, and only wishes it were possible to have an opportunity of expressing her gratitude in actions both to you and Mrs. Greville: but this she despairs of.
I am, Sir, &c.
Oct. 28.
To Mr Freeman.
Bath.
To a heart like mine, addicted, both by principle and constitution, to the glowing emotions of friendship, the philanthropy and warmth of sentiment so conspicuous in your letters, and particularly in your last, are very acceptable. And though I have not leisure to answer you so fully as I wish, nor opportunity to return those many kindnesses you do me, yet to be totally silent would be ungrateful. Let me therefore return you my most sincere thanks for all your favours, particularly for those done to my father: believe me, Sir, they shall never be forgotten. You are pleased to style yourself my friend, and I am proud of the appellation: the friendship of good men is not to be obtained upon slight and trivial terms: they know not only their own worth, but that the merits or demerits of those to whom they apply that serious and respectful word, are in a great measure reflected back upon themselves; and this makes them cautious. For my own part, Sir, small as my consequence is in this world, nothing but a thorough conviction of the goodness of a man’s heart, could make me accept him for my friend. I am convinced you think in this like me, and I esteem your friendship, Sir, and the friendship of men like you too highly ever to wilfully make myself unworthy of it. Men who feel the dignity of virtue are too proud to be vicious. Excuse this, Sir, I only mean to assure you I will endeavour to equal the good opinion you are pleased to entertain of me, and not to write my own eulogy.
To Mr Freeman.
Dear Sir, I received yours of the 25th in due course, and have forborne to answer it till now, because I had not money to pay any part of the account before; as soon as I go out to-day I shall pay ten pounds in part to Mr Ellis, and hope to pay as much more in a few 267weeks; should you think this too tardy, be kind enough to hint as much, and I will endeavour to quicken my motions. Had I any means of conveyance, I would send you a book just published (by me) in French and English, very curious,—‘Memoires de Voltaire écrits par lui-même.’ If you will be kind enough in your next to inform me who in London sends you parcels oftenest, I can take occasion now and then to send you such trifles as I have any concern in. We complain in London of literary envy among literary men, and often with reason; but our men of letters are far behind those of France in that particular; parties there are as high among the learned, as here among politicians. Their passions are sudden, their wit keen, and their tongues imprudent; all these must have exercise, and as they dare not, like us, talk of beheading prime ministers, tell kings they are fools, and regulate the affairs of nations; they are all judges of wit, taste, poetry, and the belles lettres; and much in the same proportion as we are of politics: that is to say, there are a thousand who affirm and dogmatize, for one who discriminates and judges with temperance and taste. Their authors of the present century, who have been famous, are most of them dead or old, and they themselves say they have little hopes from any of the rising generation: but this is a common-place complaint of all ages, and I have no doubt is without foundation now as heretofore. Notwithstanding their universal pretensions to dispute and decide in works of wit and taste, the common people are very ignorant and ill-educated, insomuch that you will see, in the best streets of Paris, the inscriptions on the signs frequently misspelt; which is matter of astonishment to an Englishman, who seldom sees such a thing even on a village chandler’s shop sign. I have written the above sketch in obedience to a wish expressed in your last; it is hasty and slight, for I am pressed at present for time, as indeed I generally am. My father is at present in Manchester; but he has taken a cottage in Cheshire, whither he and his wife are going in a few days. In his last he desired me to give his kindest love and sincerest thanks to you and your family, for all your kindness and goodness to him; he likewise wishes to know who is Mr F——’s successor, and if it is necessary he should come to Bath at the expiration of his lease. A line when you have leisure, Sir, will be very acceptable to your sincere friend, and obliged humble servant,
T. H.
To Mr Professor Dugald Stewart.
Dear Sir, I am ashamed of myself, I have treated you with seeming disrespect, by neglecting to answer your letter. This is a thing I should be ashamed of with any person, and especially with 268one who I believe deserves the best esteem of the best men. Hear what I can urge in mitigation, and I hope to obtain your pardon. Your letter arrived just at the moment when my opera of the Noble Peasant was in rehearsal; and I exceedingly hurried and teazed, not only with attending every day at the theatre, but with alterations, writing new songs, new scenes, making retrenchments, &c. &c. to suit the circumstances of introducing this performer, leaving out that, and so on; by which you will readily conjecture I was not idle: add to which the necessity of supplying printers with copy of Les Veillêes du Chateau, which I am translating. I even began this letter yesterday, but was cut short at the word teazed in the last paragraph, par un impertinent, and was obliged to defer the subject till this morning. My defence is ended in which I even plead guilty, but hope you will find lenity not ill-bestowed. Mr de Bonneville has been several months at Evreux. I wrote letter after letter, and received no answer, till at last I grew very seriously uneasy. My letters lay at Paris for him; he is returned, has written, and I am recovered of my fears. I believe, Sir, you know how deeply I am interested in whatever concerns Monsieur de Bonneville. At present, or rather at the moment he wrote, he was severely afflicted with the toothache; but this, though a terrible evil while it lasts, is not I hope a lasting evil. I shall transcribe your kind expressions concerning him in my next, for which give me leave to thank you: I assure you they gave me pleasure, yes, Sir, great pleasure. My delay has had one good effect; had I written sooner I could not have told you where he was, or if any where. I received his letter on Thursday last, shall write in a few days, and would advise you, Sir, to do likewise: your letter will be sure to reach him if you direct to him, ‘Chez Monsieur Barrois le jeune Libraire Rue Hurepaix à Paris.’ You are kind enough to say, Sir, you will call on me when you come to London. I have a house and table, Sir; and such as they are, if you will do me the honor of making them your own, while you stay, be it short or long, I shall remember the favor: this is said in plain and simple sincerity, and not in compliment. If you should see Mr Robertson, junior, pray present my kind respects.
I am, &c.
T. H.
To Madame de Genlis.
I have received your favor, Madam, and am happy to find the books came safe to hand. As to the retrenchments you are pleased to notice, I will not pretend to justify either my own false delicacy, or that of my nation; but I can affirm, that be it false or true, it exists,
269and that to an English reader, I have done the book a service, and no injury. A person of your genius, Madam, need not appeal to the approbation of journalists (I speak generally); however, if that were any consolation, I can likewise plead their support on this very subject, as you will see if you will please to read the Critical Review for February last; but I would rather have given you satisfaction, Madam, than fifty Reviewers. You may well imagine, Madam, I acted for the good of the work, according to the best of my judgment, but I will by no means presume that judgment infallible.—Permit me, Madam, to relate a short story.—A certain young nobleman was remarkable for the elegance of his dress, the symmetry of his person, and the refinement of his manners. The old ladies admired him, the young ladies loved him, and even the handsomest among the men envied him. He was the chief inventor of modes, the leader of fashions, and the arbiter of taste and tailors: above all, he was remarkable for a fine head of hair. Proud of his power, and conscious of his abilities, his ambition was insatiable. One day, while waiting for his hair-dresser, he happened by some odd accident to be turning over the leaves of a folio, in which he saw engravings of Eastern habits—he burst into a laugh.—What strange figures, cried he! how little do they understand of grace and elegance! were I among them, I would soon teach them better. Full of this idea, and urged by a thirst of still superior fame, he determined to take a voyage to China, in order to begin by humanizing and converting that vast empire to the principles of good taste. Arrived at Pekin, and being a master of his art, his first endeavour was to gain the suffrages of the fair sex: to effect this, he assailed, and hoped to captivate the daughter of a Mandarine, acknowledged to be the greatest beauty in all Pekin, and, as her admirers daily swore, in all the world. Much depended on a first impression, and this he knew: he therefore pared his nails and powdered his hair, and some add (perhaps maliciously) painted his cheeks. Full of the remembrance of former celebrity, and elate with the consciousness of present perfection, he walked up to the glass, admired the image it reflected, and with the step of ease and self-approbation, called for his palanquin and proceeded on his visit. Thus prepossessed, I need not describe his surprise and chagrin, when instead of meeting the approbation he thought so certain, he heard the beauteous Chinese, though struck with his fine form (for proportion must ever please) find fault with that European art—that taste, which he had held so irresistible: the smart short cut of his clothes suffered a thousand ridiculous comparisons; and his frizzed and powdered hair, so bushy and so full, afforded endless laughter. A circumstantial detail is needless. The 270European, when he beheld the Chinese in their own country, and in great numbers, did not find their fashions so absurd as he thought them in an engraving. He fell desperately in love with the Mandarine’s daughter, soon consented to cut off his fine hair, except a single lock, to let his nails grow, and wear a long vest; for without such condescension he found it impossible to win the affection of his mistress—that is, he translated himself into Chinese. Truth and nature are the same in all countries, but the mode of decoration varies in each.—This I hope, Madam, will be a sufficient apology for any occasional liberties I may have taken with your very estimable work; and which, notwithstanding, I believe few people think more highly of than I do, because few have studied its numerous excellences with such minute attention. There is a new edition now in the press, and I shed tears daily over the proofs as I read. I shall receive the favor of your ‘Theatre d’Education,’ with the respect and thanks such a present, coming from such a person, deserves.
I am, Madam, &c.
T. H.
To Fulke Greville, Esq.
Dear Sir, When I returned from Blackheath, I found your kind note, in which you speak in that mild and true spirit of philosophy, which is worthy of a liberal and philosophic mind. Proof respecting the subject in question (Instinct) is not to be had. To me the difficulties seem less to suppose the actions of all animals the consequence of reflection, than to suppose them blind impulse. I care not a farthing, whether my opinion be right or wrong; but while it is my opinion, however weak or absurd it may be, I will never pretend to a conviction I do not feel: and in this I am sure to meet your approbation, because a contrary conduct would be contemptible. A hen that has chickens, rakes up a barley-corn on a dunghill and stands clucking over it till her brood come round her. I could as soon suppose this an action of instinct, viz. an action without an intention, for that is what I understand by the word instinct; I repeat, I could as soon suppose the hen acted from instinct, and without any idea passing in her mind, as I could at seeing a tomtit carry moss into the hollow of a tree, for the safety of itself and young: the action is much more complicated in the one case, than in the other, but I do not see that it warrants me to conclude the tomtit is acting without any intention. My mind revolts at the idea of a bird selecting a hole just capacious enough to creep into, remarking in what tree that hole happens to be, flying away and looking round for materials to make its nest, placing those materials in a 271certain form, leaving its mate to watch, and give notice if an enemy approach, and going through a rational and well connected system, without rationality, and without meaning. It seems to me much less difficult to suppose the bird has a greater capacity than I am habituated to attribute to birds, or that it learns to do these things from seeing others of the same species with which it lives in society do the like. Pray Sir, do me the justice to believe, that I mean to give all this as mere opinion, and that I am superior to dogmatizing. The fact you mention of the squirrel, may, as you say, Sir, if I am not mistaken, afford deductions for either side of the question. The first thing I should wish to inquire into would be, whether the squirrel had never been in company with other squirrels that had the like habits; and, if that were proved against me, I should next inquire, whether a young squirrel that had never been in company with any other squirrel did, the very first time it had nuts given it, go and seek for a corner to hide them, and if even this extraordinary thing were to happen, I should still be much more inclined to attribute it to the fears and cunning of the animal, than to suppose it went and came and knew nothing about the matter; for so, I think, acting from instinct or without intention, implies. Your Wilbury horses, Sir, are surely on my side of the question, and my very good friends on this occasion, or I am once more egregiously deceived. They not only choose to leave the heat and retire to the shade, but they moreover select that part of the shade which suits them best, that is, where they are least annoyed by flies. Just so an over-roasted cook-maid retires behind her fire-screen, and if she happens to sit down on an uneasy chair removes to another, and gives the easiest the preference. Men play on the harpsichord and talk, as men walk and talk; i.e. the thing is so familiar, it employs only a part of their attention; but give them music which is too difficult for them, that is, which employs their whole attention, and I from experience will answer for their silence. The respect due to your friendly mode of arguing, has occasioned me to do what I have a great aversion to, write a long letter. But however convinced you may be of the fallacy of my arguments, I hope I shall never give you cause to suspect the sincerity and friendship with which I am, and shall ever remain,
Your very respectful,
Humble servant,
T. H.
P.S.—I have sent you the magazine, and a volume of the Harleian manuscript, a very scarce, curious, and dear book, and hope it may afford something that will entertain. I have not got the other book: Lord Kaimes’s Sketches of Man is the title.
272To the Hon. Horace Walpole.
Sir, The politeness with which I was received on my accidental visit to Strawberry-hill, in company with Mr Mercier, and the pleasure I felt not only in viewing so rare a collection of the works of art, but in the very kind manner in which they were shewn, will not easily be forgotten. As a small testimony of the truth of this, I then projected, and having received them from the binders, now take the liberty to send you copies of such dramatic works of mine, as have been already played and published, which I beg you to accept, not as a task imposed upon you to read them, nor yet with an expectation of praise, but as an acknowledgement of as much thankfulness as I dare express. I have also inclosed a copy of a manuscript comedy, for which I can give no better reason, than that though every motive of delicacy would make me avoid laying you under the least restraint, yet it may happen that the perusal of it may afford you an hour’s amusement, which is the best return I am at present able to make for the attention with which you were pleased to treat me, and the invitation you gave me to revisit Strawberry-hill in a more favourable season.
I am, Sir,
Your very respectful,
Humble servant,
T. H.
ANSWER.
To Mr Holcroft.
Berkley Square, Nov. 28th, 1788.
The civilities, Sir, which you are pleased to say you received from me at Strawberry-hill, were no more than were due to any gentleman, and certainly did not deserve such acknowledgement as you have made; and I should be ashamed of your thanking me so much, if the agreeable manner in which you have greatly overpaid them by the present of your works, did not make me easily swallow my shame, though it will not dispense me from assuring you how much I am obliged to you. I shall read them with pleasure as soon as I am settled in town. Just at present, I live between town and country, and should not have leisure but to read them by snatches. It is for this reason, that if you are not in haste for it, I shall beg leave to keep your manuscript comedy, till I can peruse it with proper 273attention. If you should want it soon, I will return it, and ask for it again, for it would be unjust to the merit of your works to run through them too rapidly.
I am, Sir,
Your obliged, and
Obedient humble servant,
H. Walpole.
To Mr Holcroft, sen.
Aug. 31st, 1791.
My dear Father, I have received both your kind letters, and hope you will excuse my not having answered you sooner, my delay having been occasioned by the intense application which I am obliged to pay to a work I am now writing. I imagine it will be printed about Christmas, and you shall receive an early copy. Nothing gives me greater pleasure than to hear of your good health. I am convinced of the efficacy of sea-bathing, and am glad you are near enough to the sea to enjoy the benefit of it. Remember, my dear father, what I repeated to you, when I had last the happiness of your company. Keep your mind alive; exercise every part of your body, fingers, joints, and muscles; endeavour to infuse spirit and vigour into them, and depend upon it you will be surprised at the effects which will be produced. We die piece-meal, by falling into habits of apathy and neglect; and by supposing that debility and inactivity are the inevitable consequences of age. The mind becomes weary of action; it loses its desires, and the body sinks into listlessness, palsy, and universal decay. This I am persuaded is the error of a false supposition, that death is inevitable. Not that I would have you understand I myself think I shall not die: but I very sincerely think, when I do die, it will be of ignorance, and of the disease I have just mentioned; accidents excepted.
You inquire, dear Sir, whether I am married again. I cannot say what miracles may happen in the world; but I really think I have had marriage enough for one man. The woman whom I could truly esteem is not easily to be found; and, if the discovery were made, it would be strange if she were wholly disengaged. Your grandchildren are all in good health, and inquire after you very affectionately. Mrs. Colles and family are well, she dined with us the Sunday before last. With respect to affairs, I am sorry for your sake, my dear father, that I am not so rich as I could wish. The only remedy is strict economy, and hard labour; both of which conditions I am obliged severely to comply with: but, far from being 274discontented; to be able to comply with them, to be rid of the false notions that fix felicity in the enjoyment of superfluous trifles, which none of us want, and to have a mind industrious, active, and delighting to produce, these things are to me happiness, which may be almost called supreme. I shall for some months be exceedingly short of money; but you shall nevertheless hear from me, at the usual time. Pray remember me kindly to Mrs. Holcroft, and assure yourself that I shall always remain
Your dutiful and
Affectionate Son,
T. H.
From Mr Shield.
Turin, September 22nd, 1791.
Dear Holcroft, * * * * * * My health, since I left England, one day excepted, has been extremely good; but passing the Alps in the manner I did, was too much for me. I thought it degraded the race of men too much to suffer two of them to carry me in a sedan over this immense mountain: in consequence of which we had mules; and after riding about one mile, reflection told me that I was shortening the life of an animal, by obliging it to carry me up and down so many precipices; and as I saw women walk it, I was resolved to do the same, for I was then in possession of the temper of the animal which I led, and would not yield to the intreaties of my fellow travellers to remount. I was so much exhausted when I arrived at Laneburg, that I threw myself upon the bed: soon after which, dinner was served up in the same room; but my appetite had entirely left me through fatigue: my heart was good, but my strength failed me. However, after waiting for two hours for some very indifferent tea, it revived me a little, and I got into the coach, and was entirely recovered by the time we reached Turin. A man needs no common share of that inestimable quality which you so eminently possess (fortitude) to travel through the South of France and Savoy, with only a dozen words of the language. I thought change of scene would prove the best medicine for me, and I seem to have been right in my prognostications, for I find myself in the full possession of my faculties, and am determined to exert myself in my profession. A very accomplished Russian is my chief companion. But the greatest original of our voiture party is a Chinese, of a small stature, but of a capacious memory: he speaks the French, Italian, Spanish, German, Dutch, Russian, and Latin languages, so as to astonish the natives and students of the above. His character is so uncommon that, 275were you to draw him for the English stage, he must reside in London before the audience would acknowledge your character to be natural: most people like him, for the only indignity he has yet met with is his being taken for my valet, from his attention to me.
Your’s truly,
Wm. Shield.
P.S.—I cannot view the beautiful scenes which at present surround me, without recollecting the strokes of Milton’s pencil in his sublime picture of Paradise Lost.
To Mr Shield.
London, Oct. 11, 1791.
Dear Shield, You cannot easily imagine the pleasure which your letter gave me. The passions, hopes, and alarms of the heart are necessarily excited in behalf of those for whom it has an affection by distance, and by its ignorance of the good or ill health, happiness or misfortune of those it loves. I heard of you at Lyons, and for the moment was satisfied. I knew from the numbers who cross the Alps, that there would be little or no danger in traversing the tremendous Mount Cenis; yet I was anxiously desirous to hear you had passed it in safety. I have accompanied you in imagination, and looked down from its summit on the surrounding nations. Fanny supposes that, being placed there, the eye has a survey, as it were, of all Europe, though in reality its powers are too feeble to see distinctly and accurately at a few yards’ distance; but fancy delights in these deceptions, nor can the scenery be other than sublime and astonishing. You are at present in what, perhaps, more than any other, may properly be called the country of contradictions. The noble works of art, of sculpture, of painting, and the monuments of architecture, which are to be met with in almost every city of Italy, form a surprising contrast to the ignorance, poverty, sloth, and present depravity of its inhabitants. Men who, by the baneful influence of priesthood and bad government, have, from the first of mankind, become almost the lowest. Sunk in ignorance, deprived of energy, destitute of all noble emulation, we ask with amazement, how could a people like this produce works so magnificent; or tower, as they have done, above the rest of mankind? You are sensible, dear Shield, I now speak of them as a nation; there are, no doubt, individuals among them who still possess those powers, and that genius, of which the herd of their fellow citizens is deprived. They only wait a more happy moment, and a return of times more fortunate, to become all that they have been, and I hope much more. I need not tell you the infinite 276pleasure it would give me, could I, at this moment, transport myself to the palace in which you lodge, for such no doubt it is, and accompany you in all your peregrinations: I have a very earnest desire to see Rome, that queen of cities, and take a view of all her treasures, which as I am told, are so immense and multifarious, as presently to satiate the most inquisitive mind.
Do not forget, dear Shield, to fix your attention on the various works of Michael Angelo: in painting, sculpture, and architecture, I am persuaded he was the first of modern artists. Nor must Raphael escape your notice. Rome, I am told, is the only place on earth to view his pictures, for all the best of them are there. I shall ask you a thousand questions concerning them on your return, and of the effect they produced upon you. The remains of ancient architecture: the Pantheon, Trajan’s Pillar, the Tower of St. Angelo, &c. &c. you will certainly not forget. I should indeed prefer fixing my attention on a select few of the grandest objects, to that of dividing it into too many parts, and thus rendering it without efficacy. No passage in your letter gave me so much pleasure as that in which you tell me you are in full possession of your faculties, which you are determined to exert.—The determination is well worthy of a mind like your’s, Shield, which to possess, and not to employ, is, in my opinion, the true sin against the Holy Ghost; it is unpardonable. Familiarized as your mind at present is to harmony, and stored with musical ideas, what can be so desirable for the world, or so delightful to yourself, as to arrange those stores, to pour them forth, and to dig the gold from the mountain where, while it lies buried, it is worthless. Not that any accusation of the kind can be brought against you, yet, Shield, distance will authorise friendship in speaking a truth which false modesty unjustly forbids us to repeat vivâ voce. Your works are already an honour to your nation and your art; and had you not been under the malignant influence of absurd prejudices, they would have been infinitely more honourable. We are at present all, more or less, under similar influences, and obliged to obey the dictates of necessity. I hope, however, that you will be less so in future than heretofore; and the end of my present very severe labours is to free myself from them if possible. There needed not any caution relative to the newspapers; I believe you are too generally beloved to be in danger of attack; but should illiberality or envy shew their fangs, be certain, you will not want a defender. Forgive me, dear Shield, for not transcribing this letter myself; my brain is exceedingly busy, and not a little fatigued; you will see on what, when you return to England. I am obliged to employ every moment in that severe labour which is requisite to form a consistent, efficacious, and excellent whole; 277whether the work I am writing will be such must be left to the proof, but such at least I must endeavour to make it, and I hope my efforts will not be unsuccessful. All good, all happiness, all pleasure, be with you wherever you go.
T. H.
To Mr Godwin.
July 20th, 1797.
It was my intention to write, for I feel a kind of vacuity of heart, when I am deprived of the intercourse of my accustomed friends; but as I cannot write to them all, and as we have many friends in common, I think there are few whom you may not safely assure on my part, that they have their turn in my thoughts. I deferred this pleasant duty, however, till I had seen your mother, whom I thought it right and respectful to visit. My coming occasioned some little alarm; the Major, Mrs. Harwood, and Fanny, accompanied me; we were seen from the windows as we came up to the gate. I had my spectacles on, and your sister-in-law ran to inform your mother that yourself and Mrs. Godwin were arrived. The old lady stood in the portico; the young ones advanced; there was an anxious curiosity in their countenances, and your sister said, addressing herself to me, ‘I think I know you, Sir.’ I scarcely knew what to reply: imagination had winged her and myself up to London, where I supposed, some years ago, I might have seen her at your lodgings; taking it for granted she was a relation: but as I did not answer, Major Harwood relieved our embarrassment by announcing my name. The change of countenance, perhaps, could not have fully persuaded her that my face was actually yours, yet she seemed rather to trust to her hopes, than to her recollection; and these being disappointed, an immediate blank took possession of her features, and the rising joy was damped. Your mother, however, very kindly invited us in, and gave us all the good things she had, that could administer to our immediate pleasures. The expectations which Major Harwood had raised by his description of your mother were not entirely answered. She was neither so alert, so commanding, nor so animated, as he and Ann had described. I think her very rapidly on the decline: having quitted her farming business I have no doubt myself but that her faculties will be impaired much faster than they would have been had she continued to exert them. Her memory is good, her conceptions, speaking comparatively, are clear, and her strength considerable. I have seen more of the county of Norfolk, than of its inhabitants; of which county I remark, that, to the best of my recollection, it contains more churches, more flints, more turkeys, more turnips, more 278wheat, more cultivation, more commons, more cross-roads, and from that token probably more inhabitants, than any county I ever visited. It has another distinguishing and paradoxical feature, if what I hear be true: it is said to be more illiterate than any other parts of England, and yet I doubt if any county of like extent have produced an equal number of famous men. This is, however, merely a conjecture made, not from examination, but from memory. As it is necessary for me to bathe, I shall immediately depart for Yarmouth, and pass through Norwich, which I have not yet seen. If you, or Mrs. Godwin, or both, can but prevail on yourself or selves to endure the fatigue of writing to me, I hope I need not use many words to convince you of the pleasure it will give me: and be it understood that this letter is addressed to you both, whatever the direction on the back may affirm to the contrary. Professions are almost impertinent, and yet I am almost tempted to profess to you how sincerely and seriously I am interested in your happiness, but as I am sure my words would ill describe my thoughts, I shall forbear. Pray inform me, sweet lady, in what state is your novel? And on what, courteous Sir, are you employed? Though I am idle myself, I cannot endure that anybody else should be so. Direct to me at the Post-Office, Yarmouth.
To Mr Holcroft.
December 11th, 1794.
Sir, Were I not writing to Mr Holcroft, I should think it needful to apologize for my abrupt self-introduction to you in London, and the liberty I now take in addressing you: but I trust you will not deem me impertinent, nor expect any professions to convince you of the esteem and admiration I have for your character. These sentiments induced me to visit you in your late unjust confinement, to be anxious for your safety, and sincerely to rejoice that you are now restored to your friends, and your extensive circle of usefulness. You may perhaps recollect the scheme[17] of which I gave you an imperfect outline; I much desired your opinion and advice on the subject; but your mind being then much engaged on its peculiar situation, I forbore to intrude the subject. Hoping you may now be happily settled at your rightful home, and believing you would be happy to assist me by advice, as well as enforce by precept any virtuous intention, I would engage your thoughts to our projected plan of establishing a genuine system of property. America presents many advantages to the accomplishment of this scheme—the easy rate at 279which land may be purchased, is not the least important: yet we are not determined on emigration. Principle, not plan, is our object. A friend has suggested that the plan is practicable in some of the uncultivated parts of Wales. I recollect your expressing a desire that we might form such a society without leaving the kingdom. As we wish to consult all who may render our efforts more serviceable to the cause of truth and virtue, we should be happy if in some unemployed hour, you would consider the subject, and impart to us any objection which may occur peculiar to the scheme of emigration. From the writings of William Godwin and yourself, our minds have been illuminated, we wish our actions to be guided by the same superior abilities; perhaps when together, you may bestow some thoughts to our advantage. To him, and your friend Nicholson, I would request the remembrance of an admirer. Long may they continue to instruct and amend mankind! If we could practise our scheme in this kingdom, it would save much expense, perhaps danger, and at the same time be more agreeable to our private inclinations; but the probability of being obnoxious to Government, and subject to tythes, are in our opinions serious objections. I forbear to make any remark on the late trials, or formally to congratulate you on your acquittal. I hope the spirit of enquiry will be excited to advantage; perhaps you would rather have had your trial proceeded in; though the Court authority prevented your speaking, they cannot prevent you from printing your injured case. I am anxious to see your appeal on the subject.
When you address your charming daughter, (Mrs. C——, of Exeter), whom I saw with you, be good enough to make my remembrance. I wonder not at your drawing the charming character of Anna St. Ives, having so fair an original.
Robert Lovell.
No. 14, Old Market, Bristol, 1794.
From Mr Dermody.
London, June 15th, 1796.
Sir, From the universal celebrity of your talents, and the liberal spirit which breathes through all your productions, I am, though a stranger, emboldened to request your superior guidance in the paths of literature. Very little used to authorship as a trade, inexperienced in the polity of booksellers, and even unacquainted with the city itself, it would, I presume, be no dishonourable employment to direct a wandering muse, and you alone, Sir, are the person I conceive (from general benevolence) best adapted to that task both by affability 280and experience. Without these two qualifications, you could not have written Alwyn, which, next to Fielding’s work, contains the most affecting and sportive scenes that ever adorned that (of which you have given so fine a definition) a novel. I have lately borne a commission in the army, and am, at present, under the patronage of a most learned and amiable nobleman: however, being formerly taught to believe that I had some talents, it is disagreeable to be unemployed with every faculty on the stretch for exertion. By that nobleman’s desire, I left a large poem, ‘The Retrospect,’ with a printer of eminence in Pall Mall; but was much surprised to be informed yesterday that he had embarked for Italy, and the manuscript was locked up. I have but a very rough draught of it now till he returns. Your very great dramatic eminence might be of the most material benefit by pointing out the steps proper to be taken in a line of which I have been ever enamoured. If you deign to direct a short reply to this strange intrusion, I shall have the honour to lay a few pieces of poetry (which fortunately are correctly copied) before your judgment—meanwhile
I am, Sir, with great respect,
Your obedient Servant,
Thomas Dermody.
No. 30, Oxendon-Street, Haymarket.
From the Marquis Dampierre.
Liege, 6 Xbre l’an 1r de la Républic.
Dear Holcroft, I charge my dear friend, the young Mergées, my countermen, to tell you, that I never forgot our old friendship, he’ll tell you my profession of faith, upon the Revolution. He’ll bring you a relation of the victories of the French, and you’ll see my part in it. I have the honour to conduct the liberty lads in the way of the victory.
Adieu, dearer among the dear,
H. Dampierre.[18]
Maj. G. of the French Republic.
281From Madame de Genlis.[19]
Sir, With pleasure, as well as gratitude, I acknowledge the receipt of the translation you were pleased to send me, which came to hand prior to your letter, and consequently before I could well go to make my claim. I have not yet had time to peruse it, but by the preface I am surprised to find you have omitted some incidents in the tales of Eglantine and of Pamela, which in this country have created universal interest. Even the journalists, from whom I had little reason to expect mercy, owing to the severity with which they are treated in my works, have with one accord praised the expunged passages. I mention this to you with the less reserve, because those very passages are not of my own invention, which may be seen by referring to the notes relative to them. I have besides given the place of Madme Busca’s residence; a number of persons have been to see her, and have satisfied themselves of the truth of my statement. Woe be to the false delicacy which is unable to endure a recital honourable to humanity, when made with an appeal to the feelings powerful enough to command tears! However, Sir, be persuaded that I entertain a lively sense of the very great attention you have otherwise shewn me, as well as of the handsome, and by far too flattering encomiums you have passed on my feeble productions. My motives are pure, and I have courage enough to tell truths likely to prove beneficial:—my writings will corrupt no one;—this is the only merit I am anxious to claim for myself; and indeed in our days it is sufficiently rare to satisfy its possessor.
There is now in the press a new edition of the Théatre d’Education, to which I have added another volume, consisting of pieces taken from the Scriptures. This new edition will appear in the course of May next, and I beg your permission, Sir, to forward you a copy, as a small token of my gratitude, and of the sentiments with which I have the honour to be, Sir, your very humble and very obedient servant,
Ducrest Genlis.
Belle Chassee, 22nd Feb. 1785.
FINIS
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