The Press.
London, England, 1857-04-25 00:00:00

THE PRESS.

Queensburys. Lady Caroline will give me leave to wonder
at her being so awkward as to like to hear L tdy Emily
Lenox] commecded rather than herself; and even you
who are so fond of that uncouth sense of hers, may be
amazed that she thinks her sister handsomer than her-
self; but since she is so ungenteel, and has so many of
those strange properties called good qualities, which being
out of fashion and out of character, I can't help reckoning
a want of knowing the world, I have e'en humoured her
in her own way, and said of her sister what, if she had
been like other people, I should naturally have said of
herself.

wish, my dear Harry, you loved Lady Emily as well as
your wife does, and then 1 should have no excuses to make
for sending you the inclosed lines, which I command
La ly Caroline to like on pain of Dayrolles's eternal dis-
pleasure, but as a fit of poetry is a distemper which I am
never troubled with but in the country, you will have no
reason to apprehend much trouble of th's sort : the
trees at Vauxhall and purling basins of gold fish never in-
spire me.

The next is better, and is more in the true
‘Valpolian vein
_ _ _

Dear Sir,—You frighten me out of my wits, which is,
indeed, a fair step towards making me in earnest a poet, a
title I should dread more than that of patriot, and which I
should certainly get into no wills by. I will be so honest
as to own that the obliging things you say to me please me
vastly. I find I have enough of the author in me to be ex•
tre:nely sensible to flattery, and were I far enough gone to
publish a miscellany, there would certainly be one copy to
my honoured friend Henry Fox on his commending my
verses. But seriously, my dear sir, you alarm me, with
talking of making those I sent you public. I never
thought poetry excusable but in the manner I sent you
mine, just to divert anybody one loves for half an hour—
and I know I must love anybody, to put myself so much
in their power for their diversion. But to make anything
one writes, especially poetry, public, is giving everybody
leave undtr one's own hand to call one foul. You think
me modesty, but all my modesty is pride; while I am
unknown, I am as great as my own imagination pleases to
make me, the instant I get into that dreadful Court of
Requests you talk of, I am as silly a fellow as Thomson or
Glover—you even reduce me to plead that foolish excuse
against being published which authors make to excuse
themselves when they have published—that their composi-
tions were made in a hurry or extempore. Rigby will
assure you that what I sent you was literally wrote in leas
than three hours ; and, my dear Harry, I ant not vain
enough to think that I can write in three hours what
would deserve to live three days. I will give you two
more very material reasons for your suppressing my
verses, and have done : one is, I don't care to make all
the women in England my enemies, bnt sixteen, as their
resentments would probably hurt me more than the
gratitude of my goddesses would do me good, with all
their charms ; and the other reason is, that the conclusion
of the poem is more particular than I would choose pub-
licly to subscribe to.

The following letter, addressed to Mr. Pelham,
will explain itself. It shows Horace Walpole
in a supplicatory mood, and is altogether out
of h►s usual style. It is too long, but it bears
the stamp of personal petitions in that age.
In the present time such a request should be
condensed into a third of the space. We print
the letter in extenso

Sir,—When I did myself the honour to apply to you
last, to beg your interest with the King, that I might
obtain the enjoyment of the patent for my own life, which
now depends upon that of my brother, you told me, that
if I could prevail upon my brother to consent that his
life might be changed for mine, you would willingly under-
take to serve me: and you added very kindly (for which,
sir, whatever success I may have, I must always thank
you) that no interest of your own should interfere with
my suit. Indeed, sir, the consideration of that would have
prevented me, who am neither apt to ask, nor disposed to
think that I have much title to favours, from troubling
you at first, if I had not reflected that what I begged was
not so unreasonable, either from my brother's life being as
good as my own, or at least if the event should happen of
his death before mine, that the other large reversions
attending it, would make the emolument which I must be
obliged to hope to receive from it, appear of the less value
to you. I do not mean, sir, to detract from the very
handsome manner in which you treated it, though I am
desirous of not being thought to prefer an extravagant suit.
My reason for troubling you again, sir, is to represent to
you how impossible it will be for me to make any advan-
tage of the method you proposed, as I cannot undertake
the necessary steps. As the patent now stands, it is for
my brother's life, but far the greater profits are given to
me. If he dies. the whole drops : if I die first, the whole
falls to him What, therefore, I must have asked of him
would be, not only to risk upon my life what he now
enjoys for his own, but to resign his chance of the great
benefit which he would reap from my death : in short, I
must ask him to run all the risk instead of me. This, sir,
would be difficult to ask of any brother or any friend ; un-
reasonable, I am afraid, to ask of one who has a large
family; and impracticable, I sin very sure, to obtain from
one who, though I believe he loves me very well, I have no
reason to think prefers me to himself.
You will excuse my stating the case thus plainly, sir,
hich, after long consideration, I think myself obliged to
do, lest you should suppose that I have neglected to make
advantage of your kindness to me. I hope you gee that it
is out of my power to obtain the previous conditions. If
without them you will be so good as to serve me by adding
my life, a request which I again make to you, there is
nobody will be more pleased to be, sir, your much
obliged and upst obedient servant,
Hoa. WALPOLE.

413

And upon this elaborate production we have
the following hearty letter from Henry Fos.
It is also now printed for the first time :

Dear Hori,—l return you your very proper and genteel
application to Mr. Pelham, which appears to me such, that
I really think it will succeed, so far at least as that he will
try it with the King. I have been in doubt whether men-
tioning the very little self denial that his getting this for
you would be, was right. But you do it very civilly, sad I
am not sure that, without cmsidering the matter, he may
not think it a great one. Adieu! I heartily wish you
success. H. Fox.

The chronological arrangement of the letters
adds great value to this edition ; and the
editor, on the whole, deserves the praise of
painstaking research. We hope that an edition
of the select letters will yet be given to the
public. The literary merit of Walpole, his
subtle vivacity, and animated fancy, appear
more conspicuous than ever in turning over
his collected compositions.

The Night Side of London. By J. Ewing
Ritchie, Author of " The London Pulpit,"

do. London: Tweedie.
THE school of literary humanitarianism intro-
duced by Mr. Dickens, and some other popular
writers, is gradually dying out, in consequence
of c-rtain evils which it had an undesigned
tendency to foster. Twenty years since people
were pleased with the novelty of introduction
to the low classes of Loudon life, described
with pathos and humour, and curiosity was
roused about " Sam Wellers " and their com-
rades. A fashion of talking, writing, and
preaching about" low life" flourished, and bulky
volumes were written to justify the fanciful
sketches of brilliant fictionists, whom their
too panegyrical critics used to call " great ob-
" servers." Unfortunately the classes of " low
" life" which most require the inspection of true
lovers of humanity are those to which the ge-
neral public cannot be introduced without har-
rowing the feelings and at the same time im-
perilling morality, by making things notorious
which ought to be left in the shade. We doubt
much whether " Mayhewism " is beneficial
to public morality. A morbid sense of social
pollution is apt to take hold of the imagination
of some minds after long contemplation of the
horrors of " Blue hooks." Pope's lines ought
to be weighed more carefully:—

Vice is a monster of such hideous mien
As to be hated needs but to be seen.
The poet does not stop there, though the quo•
tations often do. He continues, and expresses
a profound troth:—

But seen too oft, familiar with its face,
We first endure, next pity, then embrace.
After experience of the evils produced by
Eugene Sue and other writers, we think that
society is agreed on the evil of detailed publi-
cations of " low life" under the plea of super-
ficial philanthropy. Mr. Thackeray, in " The
Newcotnes," merely glanced at the " Cave of
Harmony." He did not dwell upon it, nor did
he conduct his heroes or his readers through
many similar scenes.
In defence of wilting a book like the present
the author says :

It offends our modern sense of propriety to speak of
such matters. English people only see what they wish to
see. If you are true—if you look at real life and say What
you think of it, you shock our modern sense of propriety.
We may talk about drainage and ventilation, and the ad-
vantages of soap, but there we must stop. Keep the out-
side clean, but don't look within. Thus is it our writer*
make such blunders.

It does offend our sense of propriety to speak
of such matters, and it is proper, as society
now is, that such should be the case. The
plea, " If you are true, if you look at real life,"
&c., is a mero piece of cant and sophistry.
The most detestable kinds of literature might
be sanctioned under such a dangerous form of
excuse.

It is not possible to address with benefit
the general public on questions which in-
volve the considerations of dissipation and
vice, and where reprobate classes must
figure prominently. It is obvious that no
skill in literary treatment, or taste in coin-
position, could render " The Night Side of
" London" here depicted at all suitable
for popular authorship, aiming at wide circu-
lation. " The Town," under some of its
most hideously repulsive aspects, is neces-
sarily suggested by chapters treating of