To MRS. RUXTON.
EDGEWORTHSTOWN, Oct 13, 1814.
I had a letter from the Duchess of Wellington the day before yesterday, dated from Deal, just when she was going to embark for France. The whole of the letter was full of her children and of sorrow for quitting them.
Two days ago came a young gentleman, Mr. James Gordon, a nephew of Lady
Elizabeth Whitbread's, with a very polite introductory note from Lady
Elizabeth. He has a great deal of anecdote and information. He has just
come from Paris, and he has given me a better account of Paris, and more
characteristic, well-authenticated anecdotes than I have heard from
anybody else. He mentioned some instances of the gratitude which Louis
XVIII. has shown to people of inferior note in England from whom he had
received kindness, especially to the innkeeper's wife at Berkhampstead. I am glad for the honour of human nature that this is so.
What do you think Walter Scott says is the most poetical performance he
has read for years? That account of the battle of Leipsic which Richard
lent to us.
We went to Coolure and had a pleasant day. Waverley was in everybody's
hands. The Admiral does not like it: the hero, he says, is such a
shuffling fellow. While he was saying this I had in my pocket a letter
from Miss Fanshawe, received that morning, saying it was delightful. Lady Crewe tells me that Madame d'Arblay cannot settle in England because the King of France has lately appointed M. d'Arblay to some high situation in consequence of his distinguished services.
Shall I tell you what they, my father and all of them, are doing at this
moment? Sprawling on the floor looking at a new rat-trap. Two pounds of
butter vanished the other night out of the dairy; they had been put in a
shallow pan with water in it, and it is averred the rats ate it, and
Peggy Tuite, the dairymaid, to make the thing more credible, gives the
following reason for the rats' conduct. "Troth, ma'am, they were
affronted at the new rat-trap, they only licked the milk off it, and
that occasioned them to run off with the butter!"
Mr. and Mrs. Pollard have spent a day here, and brought with them Miss
Napier. My father is charmed with her beauty, her voice, and her
manners. We talked over Waverley with her. I am more delighted with it
than I can tell you: it is a work of first-rate genius.
To the AUTHOR of "WAVERLEY."
EDGEWORTHSTOWN, Oct. 23, 1814.
Aut Scotus, Aut Diabolus!
We have this moment finished Waverley. It was read aloud to this large
family, and I wish the author could have witnessed the impression it
made—the strong hold it seized of the feelings both of young and
old—the admiration raised by the beautiful descriptions of nature—by
the new and bold delineations of character—the perfect manner in which
character is ever sustained in every change of situation from first to
last, without effort, without the affectation of making the persons
speak in character—the ingenuity with which each person introduced in
the drama is made useful and necessary to the end—the admirable art
with which the story is constructed and with which the author keeps his
own secrets till the proper moment when they should be revealed, whilst
in the meantime, with the skill of Shakspear, the mind is prepared by
unseen degrees for all the changes of feeling and fortune, so that
nothing, however extraordinary, shocks us as improbable: and the
interest is kept up to the last moment. We were so possessed with the
belief that the whole story and every character in it was real, that we
could not endure the occasional addresses from the author to the reader. They are like Fielding: but for that reason we cannot bear them, we cannot bear that an author of such high powers, of such original genius, should for a moment stoop to imitation. This is the only thing we dislike, these are the only passages we wish omitted in the whole work: and let the unqualified manner in which I say this, and the very vehemence of my expression of this disapprobation, be a sure pledge to the author of the sincerity of all the admiration I feel for his genius.