ting play," it had no remarkable merit as a composition, and
depended for its attraction more on some of its surprises and
discoveries than on its wit. But its performance and the reception it
met with were regarded by a large political party as a triumph over the
Ministry; and French historical writers, to whatever party they belong,
agree in declaring that it had given a death-blow to many of the oldest
institutions of the country, and that Beaumarchais proved at once the
herald and the pioneer of the approaching Revolution. (See the Editor's
"Life of Marie Antoinette," c. 19.)]

_GENTLEMEN WRITERS--HIS OWN REASONS FOR WRITING WHEN
YOUNG--VOLTAIRE--"EVELINA"--MISS SEWARD--HAYLEY._

TO MISS HANNAH MORE.

Strawberry Hill, _July_ 12, 1788.

Won't you repent having opened the correspondence, my dear Madam, when
you find my letters come so thick upon you? In this instance, however, I
am only to blame in part, for being too ready to take advice, for the
sole reason for which advice ever is taken,--because it fell in with my
inclination.

You said in your last that you feared you took up time of mine to the
prejudice of the public; implying, I imagine, that I might employ it in
composing. Waving both your compliment and my own vanity, I will speak
very seriously to you on that subject, and with exact truth. My simple
writings have had better fortune than they had any reason to expect; and
I fairly believe, in a great degree, because gentlemen-writers, who do
not write for interest, are treated with some civility if they do not
write absolute nonsense. I think so, because I have not unfrequently
known much better works than mine much more neglected, if the name,
fortune, and situation of the authors were below mine. I wrote early
from youth, spirits, and vanity; and from both the last when the first
no longer existed. I now shudder when I reflect on my own boldness; and
with mortification, when I compare my own writings with those of any
great authors. This is so true, that I question whether it would be
possible for me to summon up courage to publish anything I have written,
if I could recall time past, and should yet think as I think at present.
So much for what is over and out of my power. As to writing now, I have
totally forsworn the profession, for two solid reasons. One I have
already told you; and it is, that I know my own writings are trifling
and of no depth. The other is, that, light and futile as they were,