I am glad to find, Sir, that we agree so much on the Dialogues of the Dead; indeed, there are very few that differ from us. It is well for the author, that none of his critics have undertaken to ruin his book by improving it, as you have done in the lively little specimen you sent me., Dr. Brown has writ a dull dialogue, called Pericles and Aristides, which will have a different effect from what yours, would have. One of the most objectionable passages in lord Lyttelton's book is, in my opinion, his apologizing for 'the moderate government of Augustus. A man who had exhausted tyranny in the most lawless and Unjustifiable excesses is to be excused, because, out of weariness or policy, he grows less sanguinary at last!
There is a little book coming Out, that will amuse you. It is a new edition of Isaac Walton's Complete Angler,. full of anecdotes and historic notes. It is published by Mr. Hawkins,(76) a very worthy gentleman in my neighbourhood, but who, I could wish, did not think angling so very innocent an amusement. We cannot live without destroying animals, but shall-we torture them for our sport—sport in their destruction?(77) I met a rough officer at his house t'other day, who said he knew such a person was turning Methodist; for, in the middle of conversation, he rose, and opened the window to let out a moth. I told him I did not know that the Methodists had any principle so good, and that I, who am certainly not on the point of becoming one, always did so too. One of the bravest and best men I ever knew, Sir Charles Wager, I have often heard declare he never killed a fly willingly. It is a comfortable reflection to me, that all the victories of last year have been gained since the suppression of the bear garden and prize-fighting; as it is plain, and nothing else would have made it so, that our valour did not, singly and solely depend upon, those two universities. Adieu.!
(75) Now first collected.
(76) Afterwards Sir John Hawkins, Knight, the executor and biographer of Dr. Johnson.-E.
(77) Lord Byron, like Walpole, had a mortal dislike to angling, and describes it as " the cruelest, the coldest, and the stupidest of pretended sports." Of good Isaac Walton he says,
"The quaint, old, cruel coxcomb,. in his gullet
Should have a hook, and a small trout to pull it."-E.
Letter 30 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.(78)
Strawberry Hill, June 21, 1760. (page 70)
There is nothing in the world so tiresome as a person that always says they will come to one and never does; that is a mixture of promises and excuses; that loves one better than anybody, and yet will not stir a step to see one; that likes nothing but their own ways and own books, and that thinks the Thames is not as charming in one place as another, and that fancies Strawberry Hill is the only thing upon earth worth living for-all this you would say, if even I could make you peevish: but since you cannot be provoked, you see I am for you, and give myself my due. It puts me in mind of General Sutton, who was one day sitting by my father at his dressing. Sir Robert said to Jones, who was shaving him, "John, you cut me"—presently afterwards, "John, you cut me"—and again, with the same patience or Conway-ence, "John, you cut me." Sutton started up and cried, "By God! if he can bear it, I can't; if you cut him once more, damn my blood if I don't knock you down!" My dear Harry, I will knock myself down-but I fear I shall cut you again. I wish you sorrow for the battle of Quebec. I thought as much of losing the duchies of Aquitaine and Normandy as Canada.
However, as my public feeling never carries me to any great lengths of reflection, I bound all my Qu`ebecian meditations to a little diversion on George Townshend's absurdities. The Daily Advertiser said yesterday, that a certain great officer who had a principal share in the reduction of Quebec had given it as his opinion, that it would hold out a tolerable siege. This great general has acquainted the public to-day in an advertisement with—what do you think?—not that he has such an opinion, for he has no opinion at all, and does not think that it can nor cannot hold out a siege,—but, in the first place, that he was luckily shown this paragraph, which, however, he does not like; in the next, that he is and is not that great general, and yet that there is nobody else that is; and, thirdly, lest his silence, till he can proceed in another manner with the printer, (and indeed it is difficult to conceive what manner of proceeding silence is,) should induce anybody to believe the said paragraph, he finds himself under a necessity of giving the public his honour, that there is no more truth in this paragraph than in some others which have tended to set the opinions of some general officers together by the ears—a thing, however, inconceivable, which he has shown may be done, by the confusion he himself has made in the King's English. For his another manner with the printer, I am impatient to see how the charge will lie against Matthew Jenour, the publisher of the Advertiser, who, without having the fear of God before his eyes, has forcibly, violently, and maliciously, with an offensive weapon called a hearsay, and against the peace of our sovereign Lord the King, wickedly and traitorously assaulted the head of George Townshend, general, and accused it of having an opinion, and him the said George Townshend, has slanderously and of malice prepense believed to be a great general; in short, to make Townshend easy, I wish, as he has no more contributed to the loss of Quebec than he did to the conquest of it, that he was to be sent to sign this capitulation too.
There is a delightful little French book come out, called "Tant Mieux pour elle." It is called Cr`ebillon's, and I should think was so. I only borrowed it, and cannot get one; tant pis pour vous. By the way, I am not sure you did not mention it to me; somebody did.