The Letters of Horace Walpole - Volume I | Page 4

of friends;
for in his circumstances he was independent, and even opulent; but
seeking to avenge his father by squibs on Mr. Pulteney (now Lord
Bath), as having been the leader of the attacks on him, and on the new
Ministry which had succeeded him. In one respect that age was a happy
one for ministers and all connected with them. Pensions and
preferments were distributed with a lavish hand; and, even while he
was a schoolboy, he had received more than one "patent place," as such
were called, in the Exchequer, to which before his father's resignation
others were added, which after a time raised his income to above
£5,000 a year, a fortune which in those times was exceeded by
comparatively few, even of those regarded as wealthy. So rich, indeed,
was he, that before he was thirty he was able to buy Strawberry Hill, "a
small house near Twickenham," as he describes it at first, but which he
gradually enlarged and embellished till it grew into something of a
baronial castle on a small scale, somewhat as, under the affectionate
diligence of a greater man, Abbotsford in the present century became
one of the lions of the Tweed.
[Footnote 1: The speech was made March 23, 1742; but Sir Robert had
resigned office, and been created Earl of Orford in the February
preceding.]
From this time forth literary composition, with the acquisition of
antiques and curiosities for the decoration of "Strawberry" occupied the
greater part of his life. He erected a printing press, publishing not only
most of his own writings, but some also of other authors, such as
poems of Gray, with whom he kept up uninterrupted intercourse. But,
in fact, his own works were sufficiently numerous to keep his printers
fully employed. He was among the most voluminous writers of a
voluminous age. In the course of the next twenty years he published

seven volumes of memoirs of the last ten years of the reign of George
II. and the first ten of George III.; five volumes of a work entitled
"Royal and Noble Authors;" several more of "Anecdotes of Painting;"
"The Mysterious Mother," a tragedy; "The Castle of Otranto," a
romance; and a small volume to which he gave the name of "Historic
Doubts on Richard III." Of all these not one is devoid of merit. He
more than once explains that the "Memoirs" have no claim to the more
respectable title of "History"; and he apologises for introducing
anecdotes which might be thought inconsistent with what Macaulay
brands as "a vile phrase," the dignity of history. He excuses this, which
he looked on as a new feature in historical composition, on the ground
that, if trifles, "they are trifles relating to considerable people; such as
all curious people have ever loved to read." "Such trifles," he says, "are
valued, if relating to any reign one hundred and fifty years ago; and, if
his book should live so long, these too might become acceptable."
Readers of the present day will not think such apology was needed. The
value of his "trifles" has been proved in a much shorter time; for there
is no subsequent historian of that period who has not been indebted to
him for many particulars of which no other trustworthy record existed.
Walpole had in a great degree a historical mind; and perhaps there are
few works which show a keener critical insight into the value of old
traditions than the "Historic Doubts," directed to establish, not, indeed,
Richard's innocence of the crimes charged against him, but the fact that,
with respect to many of them, his guilt has never been proved by any
evidence which is not open to the gravest impeachment. His "Royal and
Noble Authors," and his "Anecdotes of Painting" are full of
entertainment, not unmixed with instruction. "The Mysterious Mother"
was never performed on the stage, nor is it calculated for representation;
since he himself admits that the subject is disgusting. But dramas not
intended for representation, and which therefore should perhaps be
more fitly called dramatic poems, were a species of composition to
which more than one writer of reputation had lately begun to turn their
attention; though dramas not designed for the stage seem to most
readers defective in their very conception, as lacking the stimulus
which the intention of submitting them to the extemporaneous ocular
judgement of the public can alone impart. Among such works, however,
"The Mysterious Mother" is admitted to rank high for vigorous

description and poetic imagery. A greater popularity, which even at the
present day has not wholly passed away, since it is still occasionally
reprinted, was achieved by "The Castle of Otranto," which, as he
explains it in one of his letters, owed its origin to a dream. Novels had
been