Though I am touchy enough with those I love, I did not think
you
dilatory, nor expect that answers to letters should be as quick
as repartees. I do pity you for the accident that made you
think
yourself remiss.(648) I enjoy your patient's recovery; but
almost smiled unawares at the idea of her being sopped, and
coming out of the water brustling up her feathers and ermines,
and assuming the dignity of a Jupiter Pluvius.
I beseech you not to fancy yourself vain on my being your
printer
would Sappho be proud, though Aldus or Elzevir were her
typographer? My press has no rank but from its narrowness,
that
is, from the paucity of its editions, and from being a
volunteer.
But a truce to compliments, and to reciprocal humility. Pray
tell me how I shall convey your parcel to you: the impression
is
begun. I shall not dare, vu le sujet, to send a copy to Mrs.
Garrick;(649) I do not know whether you will venture. Mrs.
Boscawen shall have one, but it shall be in your name: so
authorize me to present It, that neither of us may tell the
whitest of fibs. Shall I deliver any others for you within my
reach, to save you trouble?
I have no more corrections to make. I told you brutally at
first
of the only two faults I found, and you sacrificed them with
the
patience of a martyr; for I conclude that when a good poet
knowingly sins against measure twice, he is persuaded that he
makes amends by greater beauties: in such case docility
deserves
the palmbranch. I do not applaud your declining a London
edition; but you have been so tractable, that I will let you
have
your way in this, though you only make over profit to
magazines.
Being an honest printer myself, I have little charity for those
banditti of my profession who pilfer from every body they find
on
the road.
(648) "You will think me a great brute and savage, dear Sir,
for
not having directly thanked you for your letter, till you have
read my piece justificative, and then you will think I should
have been a greater brute and savage if I had; for the very day
I
received it, a very amiable neighbour, coming to call on us,
was
overturned from her phaeton into some water, her husband
driving
her. The poor lady was brought into our house, to all
appearance
dying. I thank God, however, she is now out of danger; but our
attendance, day and night, on the maimed lady and the
distressed
husband banished poetry from my thoughts, and suspended all
power
of writing nonsense." Miss More to Walpole. Memoirs, vol. ii.
p.
160.-E.
(649) Mrs. Garrick was a Roman Catholic.-E.
Letter 335 To The Hon. H. S. Conway.