Chapter 20

Arlington Street, Christmas-day. (page 43)

If poplar-pines ever grow,(21) it must be in such a soaking season as this. I wish you would send half-a-dozen by some Henley barge to meet me next Saturday at Strawberry Hill, that they may be as tall as the Monument by next summer. My cascades give themselves the airs of cataracts, and Mrs. Clive looks like the sun rising out of the ocean. Poor Mr. Raftor(22) is tired to death of their solitude; and, as his passion is walking, he talks with rapture of the brave rows of lamps all along the street, just as I used formerly to think no trees beautiful without lamps to them, like those at Vauxhall.

As I came to town but to dinner, and have not seen a soul, I do not KNOW whether there is any news. I am just going to the Princess,(23) where I shall hear all there is. I went to King Arthur(24) on Saturday, and was tired to death, both of the nonsense of the piece and the execrable performance, the singers being still worse than the actors. The scenes are little better (though Garrick boasts of rivalling the French Opera,) except a pretty bridge, and a Gothic church with windows of painted glass. This scene, which should be a barbarous temple of Woden, is a perfect cathedral, and the devil officiates at a kind of high-mass! I never saw greater absurdities. Adieu!

(21) The first poplar-pine (or, as they have since been called, Lombardy poplar) planted in England was at Park-place, on the bank of the river near the great arch. It was a cutting brought from Turin by Lord Rochford in his carriage, and planted by General Conway's own hand.

(22) Brother of Mrs. Clive. He had been an actor himself, and, when his sister retired from the stage, lived with her in the house Mr. Walpole had given her at Twickenham.

(23( The Princess Amelia.

(24) Dryden's dramatic opera of King Arthur, or the British Worthy, altered by Garrick, was this year brought out at Drury Lane, and, by the aid of scenery, was very successful.-E.