Event Comment: [This day
Horace Walpole wrote as follows to
George Montagu, forshadowing an event to take place on 27 July: "If you will stay with me a fortnight or three weeks, perhaps I may be able to carry you to a play of
Mr Bentley's--you stare--but I am in earnest--nay, and de par le roy. In short, here is
the history of it. You know
the passion he always had for
the Italian comedy. About two years ago he writ one, intending to get it offered to
Rich--but without his name--he would have died to be supposed an author, and writing [I, 372] for gain. I kept this a most inviolable secret. Judge
then of my surprise when about a fortnight or three weeks ago I found my
Lord Melcomb reading this very Bentleiad in a circle at my
Lady Hervey's.
Cumberland had carried it to him, with a recommendatory copy of verses, containing more incense to
the King and my
Lord Bute, than
the Magi brought in
their portmanteaus to
Jerusalem.
The idols were propitious, and to do
them justice,
there is a great deal of wit in
the piece, which is called
The Wishes or Harlequin's Mouth Opened. A bank note of #200 was sent from
the Treasury to
the author, and
the play ordered to be performed by
the summer company.
Foote was summoned to Lord Melcomb's, where Parnassus was composed of
the peer himself, who, like
Apollo as I am going to tell you, was dozing,
the two
Chief Justices and Lord Bute.
Bubo read
the play himself, with handkerchief and orange by his side. But
the curious part is a prologue which I never saw. It represents
the god of verse fast asleep by
the side of
Helicon.
The race of modern bards try to wake him, but
the more
they repeat of
their works,
the louder he snores. At last "Ruin seize
thee ruthless King" is heard, and
the god starts from his trance. This is a good thought, but will offend
the bards so much, that I think
Dr Bentley's son will be abused at least as much as his fa
ther was.
The prologue concludes with young
Augustus, and how much he excels
the ancient one, by
the choice of his friend. Foote refused to act this prologue, and said it was too strong. 'Indeed,' said Augustus's friend, 'I think it is.'
They have softened it a little, and I suppose it will be performed. You may depend upon
the truth of all this; but what is much more credible, is that
the comely young author appears every night in
the Mall in a milkwhite coat with a blue cape, disclaims any benefit, and says he has done with
the play now it is out of his own hands, and that
Mrs Hannah Clio alias Bentley writ
the best
scenes in it. He is going to write a tragedy, and she, I suppose, is going--to court."--
Horace Walpole's Correspondence with George Montagu. Ed.
W. S. Lewis and
Ralph S. Brown Jr (
New Haven: Yale University Press, 1941), I, 372-73. [IX, 372-373.