The Letters of Horace Walpole, Earl of Orford — Volume 3 — A Closer Reading

A Connoisseur's Frustrations

Walpole's letters in this volume are filled with specific grievances about the art world. He complains that the 'beauties at Windsor' are 'daily perishing for want of fires in that palace,' yet no engraver will undertake the work. When he pressed an artist named Walker to consider his reputation, the reply was: 'he had got fame enough!' Walpole's tone is one of weary resignation: 'What hopes, Sir, can one entertain after so shameful an answer?'

He also describes his own publishing efforts with a mixture of pride and bitterness. His two first volumes of Anecdotes of Painting were bought up by booksellers and sold 'for an advanced price before my face.' The 'plague' he endured with printers, engravers, and booksellers 'almost discouraged me from what I took up at first as an amusement.' These details give a vivid picture of the practical obstacles facing an eighteenth-century gentleman publisher.

Political and Social Observations

While the catalog subjects list Walpole as a legislator and nobleman, the excerpts show him more as a commentator than an active politician. He mentions Lord Ferrers's execution, Lord George Sackville's court-martial, and the 'tumults in Ireland' in passing, often as items in a list of news. His interest seems to lie in the human and dramatic aspects: the murder of a steward, the public breakfast of Miss Chudleigh, the duel between the Duke of Bolton and Mr. Stewart.

Walpole's style is anecdotal and personal. He writes to Sir Horace Mann about 'Caserta' and the 'character of Mr. Thomas Pitt,' and to George Montagu about a visit to Princess Emily. These letters are not formal state papers but the correspondence of a well-connected observer who moves between court, country house, and London society. The political events are filtered through his own social circle and his sharp, often ironic, perspective.

The Business of Literature

Walpole's letters reveal a man deeply involved in the mechanics of publishing. He discusses Macpherson's 'Erse poetry,' Gray's queries about it, and Home's 'Siege of Aquileia.' He mentions 'Tristram Shandy' and Edwards's 'Canons of Criticism.' But his most revealing passages are about his own projects. He tells a correspondent that his press 'goes very slow' and that he has 'many other avocations.'

He is particularly scathing about the London booksellers, who 'will do nothing to promote the sale' unless allowed 'ridiculous profit.' Yet he also admits his own limitations: 'how little is it that a private man, with a moderate fortune, and who has many other avocations, can accomplish alone?' This self-awareness, combined with his detailed accounts of failed schemes, gives the reader a rare inside view of the literary marketplace in the 1760s.

Readers approaching this volume should expect not a continuous narrative but a series of vivid snapshots of eighteenth-century life, filtered through Walpole's distinctive voice. The letters reward those who read for detail: a complaint about an engraver, a remark about a book's price, a passing reference to a political scandal. Walpole's world is one of constant negotiation between taste and commerce, ambition and frustration. To appreciate these letters, attend to the specific grievances and the specific pleasures he records—they are the substance of his correspondence.

There’s something touching about watching a sharp mind fuss over engravers and bindings, as Walpole does here—the collector’s quiet ache for perfection. It reminds me of Cicero, fretting to Atticus about politics and papyrus, desperate for a friend who simply understands the weight of it all. Cicero: Letters to Atticus, Vol. 2 of 3 — Background and Themes carries that same intimate weariness, a letter’s soft sigh across centuries.