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 e
arnest--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 father 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</a> (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1941), I, 372-73. [IX, 372-373.