It seemed that her Grace had expressed her views regarding the prodigality of Nature in the case of Elizabeth Linley more than once before she had met Mr. Walpole, and more than once after that rencontre, so that her phrases were vieing with the sparkle of the waters the next morning.
“Have you heard what the Duchess of Devonshire said about Miss Linley, Mr. Walpole?” cried Mrs. Thrale.
“Madam,” said Mr. Walpole, “her Grace forgot that even Shakespeare is enhanced when bound in fine levant.”
“To be sure, sir,” said the lady; “but in the case of a singer——”
“Madam, you have in your mind the nightingale and Dr. Goldsmith,” said Walpole. “But I do not mean to destroy the printing-press at Strawberry Hill because a clown can read the types in the Advertiser without a qualm.”
And Dr. Johnson, too, had his views on the subject of Nature and Miss Linley.
“Sir,” said Dr. Johnson, when his friend Beauclerk made an allusion to the topic which was being turned into verse in half the garrets in Grub Street, “sir, ’twere preposterous to assume that Nature works solely for the gratification of such people as have ears. I am more gratified to see Miss Linley sing than I should be to hear a less beautiful songstress.”
“Nature created Miss Linley to set my mind at rest on a matter which has been puzzling me for years,” said Dr. Goldsmith, when in the company of his dear friends, the beautiful Miss Horneck and her sister, Mrs. Bunbury.
“Then Miss Linley has not been created in vain,” said Mr. Bunbury, who was busy with his sketch-book.
“Nay, let us hear what is your puzzle which has been solved,” cried Mrs. Bunbury.